Nobody Could Approach the Unconscious Mafia Boss Because of His Guard Dog—Then My Five-Year-Old Daughter Calmed Him Instantly.

Sophia stopped beside Adrian, looking up at him with her wide, observant brown eyes. She reached out her small hand, taking hold of Adrian's broad fingers.

Titan sat down beside her white shoes, resting his massive head against her pink skirt, his dark eyes sweeping the room with watchful, calm intensity.

Adrian looked down at his niece, then turned his icy blue-gray eyes back toward the fifty syndicate leaders.

"Under Section One of the founding charter signed by my father forty years ago," Adrian stated, his deep voice filled with profound warmth and unyielding power, "Sophia Moretti is the primary legal heiress to fifty-one percent of the Moretti global shipping terminals and the family foundation."

He reached into his vest pocket, pulling out the antique silver locket that belonged to Marcus, and gently fastened it around Sophia's neck.

The senior boss from Chicago stepped forward, looking down at the open locket containing Marcus's photograph, then at the child's unmistakable features.

"The bloodline is pure," the Chicago boss declared, bowing his head in deep respect. "She carries Marcus's face."

The remaining forty-nine syndicate leaders raised their hands in unanimous, absolute agreement, bowing their heads in deference to the young heiress.

"Sophia Moretti is recognized!" the council echoed in a thunderous chorus.

Adrian looked down at Dante Russo sitting bound in his chair. "Dante Russo, by unanimous vote of this council, your rank is stripped, your assets seized, and you are banished to the subterranean vaults until the Rome situation is resolved."

Dante wept in sheer, naked defeat as four bodyguards hauled him out of the grand ballroom, his cries fading down the long marble corridor.

Sophia looked up at Adrian, squeezing his fingers tightly. "Is the bad man gone now, Uncle Adrian?"