THE MAID’S TODDLER SAVED A DYING MAFIA BOSS WITH HER LAST EPIPEN — THEN HIS OWN BLOOD SAID THE ONE THING SHE SHOULD NEVER HEAR

The basement beneath the Moretti mansion did not exist on any city architectural blueprints.

Carved from old Dutch stone and reinforced with three-inch steel plating, it had served as a wine cellar during Prohibition, a bunker during the mob wars of the 1970s, and a private interrogation center for Aleandro’s reign.

It was midnight.

A single overhead bulb swung gently from a black cord, casting long, dancing shadows across the damp stone walls.

In the center of the room, tied to a heavy iron chair, sat Julian Moretti. His cashmere coat was gone, his hair disheveled, and his hands bruised from trying to slip his cuffs.

Standing near the stone archway was Enzo, the elderly butler, trembling uncontrollably, his head bowed in shame.

The heavy steel door groaned open, and Aleandro walked in.

He was dressed simply in a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing dark, old scars. He didn't carry a weapon. He didn't need one.

"Aleandro!" Julian shrieked, his voice echoing off the stone. "What is the meaning of this treason?! You have your own brother tied up in a cellar like a dog! The Family Council will strip you of your title for this!"

Aleandro didn't answer. He walked over to a small wooden table, picked up a clear glass vial containing a tiny drop of amber liquid, and held it up to the bulb light.

"Potassium cyanide mixed with digitalis extract," Aleandro said calmly, his tone conversational. "Fast-acting. Designed to look like a sudden, massive cardiac arrest. Perfect for a forty-two-year-old Don with high-stress levels."

He turned his cold gray eyes onto Julian.

"Where did you buy it, Julian? The Genovese family? Or did you deal directly with the Russians in Brooklyn?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Julian spat, sweating profusely under the hot bulb. "The maid did it! She’s playing you, Aleandro! She used her kid to manipulate you!"

Aleandro set the vial down. He walked slowly toward the tied-up butler.

"Enzo," Aleandro said softly.

The old butler dropped to his knees, weeping hysterically. "Forgive me, Don Aleandro! Forgive me! He came to my room three days ago... he showed me photos of my daughter in Chicago... he said if I didn't swap the decanters on the dumbwaiter, he would have her killed!"

"Enzo... you lying old bastard!" Julian screamed, kicking his legs frantically against the chair.

Aleandro looked down at the weeping butler. "You have served this family for forty years, Enzo. You should have come to me. I would have protected your daughter."

"I was terrified, Don Aleandro," Enzo sobbed, pressing his forehead against Aleandro’s polished boots. "He promised no one would get hurt... he said he just wanted you forced into early retirement..."

"He lied to you," Aleandro said quietly.

Aleandro turned to Marco, who stood near the door. "Take Enzo to a safe house in Vermont. Bring his daughter there by morning. He is retired from service. He never sets foot in New York again."

Enzo wept louder, bowing repeatedly. "Thank you, Don... thank you for sparing my life..."

Marco led the old man away, leaving the two brothers alone in the dim, stone cellar.

Julian’s arrogant mask finally began to crumble. He looked at his older brother, seeing the cold, unyielding judgment in Aleandro’s gray eyes.

"Aleandro... listen to me," Julian stammered, his voice cracking. "We are blood. Our father gave us this empire together! You've been taking all the power, all the respect, for ten years! I just wanted my fair share!"

"Your fair share?" Aleandro asked, stepping until he was inches from Julian's chair. "You tried to murder me. You tried to ruin an innocent widow. You tried to traumatize a four-year-old child."

"She’s just a maid’s kid!" Julian yelled in desperation. "She doesn't matter!"

Aleandro reached out, grabbing Julian’s throat in a grip of pure steel.

"That four-year-old child saved my life while you were waiting for me to die," Aleandro growled, his thumb pressing dangerously against Julian’s windpipe until his brother gasped for air. "She has more honor in her little finger than you have in your entire body."

Aleandro tightened his grip for three long seconds, watching the panic fill Julian’s eyes, before suddenly releasing him.

Julian slumped forward, coughing violently, gasping for breath.

"You won't die tonight, Julian," Aleandro said coldly, wiping his hands with a linen handkerchief. "Killing you would be too merciful. The Family Council meets tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. You will stand before the Capos, you will confess to your treason, and you will give up every share of the Moretti holdings you own."

Aleandro turned toward the heavy steel door.