The silence in the hallway felt suddenly suffocating.

The revelation sent a chill through the room. Matteo Valenti was not just a senior captain in the Moretti crime syndicate; he was the uncle of the twin boys.

“Why would their own uncle want them dead?” I asked, following Vincent back up the basement stairs while Marco stayed behind to keep Blake secured.

“If my sons die, and I have no other heirs,” Vincent explained, his jaw tight as we walked into his private study, “the succession law of our organization dictates that control of the syndicate passes to the nearest blood relative of my late wife’s line. Matteo would inherit the entire multi-state network, the legitimate real estate holdings, and over two hundred million dollars in hidden assets.”

“And if he poisoned them slowly,” I added, connecting the pieces, “you would be so consumed by grief and distracted by medical consultations that you wouldn’t notice him quietly re-routing your business operations until it was too late.”

Vincent sat behind his heavy desk, rubbing his temples. “Isabella loved her brother. When she died of cancer four years ago, I swore to her that I would protect Matteo, that I would keep him close. I made him my second-in-command out of respect for her memory.”

“He used your grief against you,” I said, sitting across from him. “He knew you were vulnerable. But right now, Matteo thinks Dr. Blake is still quietly poisoning the boys. He doesn't know I’ve found the toxin or that Blake has confessed.”

Vincent looked at me, a cold, calculating spark returning to his eyes. “Which gives us the element of surprise.”

Before we could construct a plan, the study door flew open.

A tall, sharply dressed man in his late thirties strode into the room. He wore a tailored charcoal suit, slicked-back hair, and an expression of deep, exaggerated concern. Beside him was a sleek, dark-haired woman in an expensive velvet dress.

“Vincent!” the man exclaimed, marching toward the desk. “I came as soon as I heard from the perimeter guards that you put the estate on lockdown! What happened? Did Lucas or Leo have another seizure? Is it the end?”

It was Matteo Valenti.

And beside him was Julianna Vance—a high-society lawyer who managed the syndicate’s legal affairs and was known to be close to the family.

Vincent didn't move a muscle. He remained seated, his hands folded neatly over the mahogany desk, his face an unreadable mask of stoic composure.

“Matteo,” Vincent said smoothly. “Julianna. You came quickly.”

“Of course I came quickly!” Matteo said, reaching out to place a hand on Vincent’s shoulder in a display of brotherhood that made my stomach turn. “They’re my nephews, Vincent! My sister’s boys! I’m worried sick! Why are the cell phone jammers active? Why are the guards armed with assault rifles at the front gate?”

Matteo’s eyes shifted toward me, narrowing with immediate suspicion. “And who is she?”

“This is Claire Morgan,” Vincent said, his tone entirely neutral. “The new residential specialist I hired.”

Julianna Vance gave a faint, dismissive chuckle, crossing her arms. “A specialist? Vincent, darling, you’ve brought in dozens of specialists. You’re letting stress cloud your judgment. Matteo and I were just reviewing the trust estate documents. If the boys’ condition deteriorates further, we need to ensure the legal transition of the family assets is protected from federal seizure.”

I watched Julianna carefully. She had stepped into the room with an aura of supreme confidence, but as her eyes swept over the desk, she noticed something: a small, empty glass vial I had used during the chemical analysis earlier, sitting near the lamp. Her right hand gave a tiny, involuntary twitch, clutching her designer handbag a little tighter.

She knew. She wasn’t just Matteo’s lawyer; she was his co-conspirator.

“The boys are resting,” Vincent said, leaning back in his chair. “In fact, Dr. Blake informed me earlier that he noticed a slight stabilization in their vital signs this morning.”

Matteo’s eyes flashed with a split-second flicker of shock before he quickly forced a relieved smile. “Stabilization? Really? That’s… that’s miraculous news! Where is Dr. Blake now? I’d like to speak with him.”

“He stepped out to retrieve additional medical supplies,” I lied smoothly, stepping forward and offering Matteo a pleasant, innocent smile. “He mentioned he had an appointment with his financial advisor regarding an offshore investment account in the Caymans.”

Matteo froze. The color didn't completely leave his face, but his eyes locked onto mine with lethal intensity.

“Is that so?” Matteo murmured, his voice losing its warm, brotherly tone. “You seem very knowledgeable for a nanny, Miss Morgan.”

“I’m observant, Mr. Valenti,” I replied sweetly. “I notice things that people assume are hidden.”

Julianna quickly stepped between us, putting a hand on Matteo’s arm. “Matteo, we should let Vincent rest. He clearly has things under control here.” She turned to Vincent, her smile tight. “We’ll be at the city office if you need us, Vincent. Call us if there’s any… change.”

“I will,” Vincent said quietly.

As Matteo and Julianna turned and walked out of the study, Matteo paused at the door, glancing back at me over his shoulder. The look he gave me was an unwritten death warrant.

The moment the oak door clicked shut, Vincent reached under his desk and hit an intercom button.

“Marco,” Vincent commanded into the speaker. “Put two discreet tail cars on Matteo and Julianna. I want every phone call, every meeting, and every stop monitored. Do not let them leave the state.”

“Understood, boss.”

Vincent turned to me, his gaze intense. “You poked the bear, Claire.”

“No,” I said, leaning over his desk. “I forced him to make a move. He knows Dr. Blake is compromised, which means he knows his window of opportunity is closing fast. He’s going to make a desperate move to strike before we can expose him publicly to the rest of your syndicate captains.”

Vincent slowly stood up, walking around the desk until he was standing directly in front of me. The height difference was intimidating, but I held my ground.

“You’re a dangerous woman, Claire Morgan,” Vincent whispered, a subtle, dark fascination gleaming in his eyes. “Most people run away from fire. You walk right into it.”

“I don’t like seeing children hurt,” I said softly. “And I don’t like arrogant men who think they can play god.”