My Maid’s Three-Year-Old Daughter Warned Me Not to Trust My Fiancée—Then She Revealed What She Heard Before the Wedding.

Saturday morning broke over the East Coast in a brilliant, sunlit gold. The storm had cleared, leaving behind a crisp, clear sky and a sparkling ocean horizon visible from the grand estate gardens.

By eleven o'clock, the Rienzi mansion was filled with over three hundred high-ranking syndicate leaders, politicians, international diplomats, and family members. The grand ballroom had been transformed into a cathedral of white roses, silver silk drapes, and golden seats.

Inside the private groom's suite, Alessandro stood before a tall gilded mirror. He wore a brand-new, flawlessly tailored black tuxedo, a crisp white dress shirt, a black bow tie, his luxury wristwatch, and his heavy family signet ring.

His light stubble was trimmed sharp, his broad shoulders squared, his face an immovable wall of icy resolve.

Marcus stepped into the room, locking the heavy door behind him. He carried a tactical tablet and a concealed sidearm beneath his suit jacket.

"Falcone’s strike team has taken positions along the outer perimeter road, Boss," Marcus reported quietly. "They have four armored SUVs waiting two miles from our main gate."

"Let them stay on the road," Alessandro commanded flatly, adjusting his cuffs in the mirror. "Are my vanguard teams stationed inside the ballroom?"

"Ten of our best men are seated in the rear rows dressed as family guests," Marcus confirmed. "And Arthur has the replacement prenuptial contract ready at the altar."

Alessandro turned around slowly, his tall frame radiating a lethal, terrifying authority that filled the room.

"Where is Fatima and Amara?" Alessandro asked.

"They are in your private safe room on the second floor under heavy guard," Marcus replied. "They're completely secure."

Alessandro nodded once. "Good. It's time."

Meanwhile, in the bridal suite, Genevieve stood before her full-length mirror, looking stunning in an extravagant white lace wedding gown with a flowing silk train. Her blonde hair was styled in an intricate updo adorned with small diamonds, her fair, rosy cheeks glowing under professional bridal makeup.

She held her bridal bouquet of white orchids in her left hand. Hidden deep within the silk ribbon wrapping the stems of the flowers was the small silver vial of liquid poison.