My Son Finally Ate in My Maid’s Arms—Then a Symbol on His Bottle Pointed to One of My Most Trusted Men.

"You," Amelia whispered, horror washing over her. "The tattoo wasn't a coincidence. You switched the formula."

"Helena was an idiot who followed orders blindly," Marco said, advancing with lethal precision. "She thought she was administering a proprietary pediatric sedative to help the boy sleep through the colic. She had no idea who was paying the courier."

"Why?" Amelia cried, backing into the edge of the mahogany desk. "Lorenzo trusted you! He considered you family!"

"Lorenzo destroyed this family when he married your sister!" Marco snarled, his calm demeanor shattering into bitter venom. "Clara was reckless. She dug into accounts she had no right touching. She found out about the offshore logistics line I built with the Chicago families. When she threatened to tell Lorenzo, I had to take out her car on Turnpike 9!"

The truth hit Amelia like a physical blow.

Clara hadn't died in a random cartel hit. Her own head of security had run her off the road.

"And now," Marco muttered, his thumb resting on the syringe plunger, "Lorenzo’s grief has made him sloppy. With Leo gone, the Rossi trust defaults to the governing board. To me."

Marco lunged forward.

Amelia didn't scream. She didn't cower. With the fierce, unyielding fury of a mother protecting her child, she grabbed the heavy brass desk lamp beside her and swung it with all her strength.

The heavy base connected squarely with Marco’s temple.

Glass shattered. Metal groaned.

Marco stumbled sideways, dropping the syringe onto the hardwood floor. Blood welled up from a deep gash near his hairline, blinding his left eye. He roared in rage and lunged again, grabbing Amelia’s uniform collar.

A deafening gunshot blasted through the room.

The mirror behind Marco exploded into ten thousand glittering shards.

Marco froze.

Lorenzo stood in the shattered doorway, the smoking barrel of his custom .45 leveled directly at Marco’s chest. His eyes burned with an infernal rage that made the room feel like an active volcano.