A Barefoot Toddler Walked Past Thirty-Eight Guards and Fell Asleep on a Mafia Boss — Then Her Rabbit's Watch Reopened His Father's Grave

Damian walked into the underground conference room with his hands resting calmly at his sides.

Sitting at the far end of the long mahogany table was Uncle Silvio. He was seventy-four, breathing with the assistance of a portable oxygen tank, wrapped in a cashmere scarf. Behind him stood four towering bodyguards in dark suits, their hands hovering near their coats.

"Damian," Silvio said, his voice raspy and rattling. "You look tired, nephew. You shouldn't let the stresses of the city get to you."

"You came a long way on a stormy night, Uncle," Damian said, pulling out a chair at the opposite end and sitting down. "Especially for a man whose lungs are giving out."

"Family duties don't wait for good health," Silvio replied with a faint, mocking smile. "I hear an intruder broke into the garden tonight. A lost child. In our business, Damian, loose ends are dangerous. I came to take the child off your hands. My people can relocate her... somewhere quiet. Somewhere she won't be a burden."

"Her name is Mia," Damian said quietly.

Silvio’s smile vanished. "Names don't matter. What matters is stability. Your father was a sentimental fool at the end of his life. He fractured our accounts, hid billions behind shell companies, and left half of it to a bastard daughter. Anthony thought he could cheat the family."

"You poisoned him," Damian stated plainly, his eyes locked on his uncle.

Silvio didn't blink. "I did what the council demanded. Anthony grew weak. He wanted to legitimize the business, put everything into trust funds for children who never bled for this family. He was going to dismantle everything our grandfathers built."

"And Clara?" Damian asked, his knuckles whitening under the table. "Where is she?"

Silvio tapped his oxygen tank with a manicured fingernail. "Clara is alive. For now. Hand over the cylinder the girl brought you, Damian. Give me the access codes to Anthony’s offshore reserves, and I might let Clara live long enough to see her daughter again."

Damian smiled—a cold, terrifying grin that made Silvio’s guards tense.

"You made one mistake, Uncle," Damian said.

"And what was that?"