His Brother Drugged Him For Three Years To Steal His Empire — Until A 3-Year-Old Pointed At The Untouched Tea

"Vance, Sarah, into the dressing room. Now," Adrian commanded in a razor-thin whisper.

Without a word, the two vanished behind the soundproof mirror doors. Adrian took the cold cup of tea, dumped half of it into the bathroom sink to make it appear half-finished, and placed it back on the nightstand. Then, he sat heavily on the edge of the bed, deliberately slumping his shoulders, letting his head droop, feigning the pale, hollow exhaustion he had worn for three years.

The bedroom door clicked open.

Dominic Moretti stepped into the suite. He was thirty-four, sharply dressed in an Italian three-piece charcoal suit, his hair slicked back, wearing a diamond signet ring on his pinky. His face bore a rehearsed expression of brotherly concern—an expression Adrian had trusted blindly for half a decade.

"Adrian?" Dominic called out softly, stepping across the Persian rug. "Adrian, brother, are you awake?"

Adrian slowly raised his head, letting his eyes appear glazed and disoriented. "Dominic... what time is it?"

Dominic stopped beside the bed. Adrian watched him like a hawk. He saw the subtle micro-flinch in Dominic’s eyes, the slight tightening of his throat. Dominic had expected to find a corpse under the sheets. He had expected to call the paramedics and put on a show of weeping grief.

Instead, Adrian was breathing.

Dominic quickly masked his panic behind a warm, sympathetic smile, dropping a hand onto Adrian’s shoulder. His fingers dug slightly into Adrian's trapezius, testing his muscle tension.

"It’s almost nine, Adrian," Dominic said smoothly, his tone dripping with fake tenderness. "You look terrible, brother. Still so pale. The insomnia is getting worse, isn't it?"

"My chest hurts," Adrian rasped out, playing the dying lion. "My head feels like it’s splitting open."

Dominic’s gaze drifted casually toward the nightstand. He saw the half-empty teacup. A flicker of triumph flashed through his cold gray eyes before he smoothed it over. He believed Adrian had consumed the lethal half of the poison.

"I know, Adrian. I know," Dominic sighed, kneeling down so they were eye to eye. "You’ve carried the syndicate on your back for too long. Since Elena died, you’ve just been crumbling. It breaks my heart to see you like this."

The mention of Elena’s name made Adrian’s jaw twitch, but he kept his face completely blank.

"The elders are worried, Adrian," Dominic continued, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial hush. "At the quarterly summit tonight, they want to question your capability. They’re talking about a vote of no confidence. But don't worry. I drafted the emergency conservatorship papers. If you sign the power of attorney over to me this afternoon, I can protect you. I can protect Lily."

"You want to protect Lily?" Adrian asked, his voice a dry croak.

"Of course," Dominic smiled, patting Adrian’s knee. "She’s my niece. I love her like my own daughter."

At that exact moment, the nursery door down the hall clicked open, and the patter of small feet approached. Lily stood in the doorway holding her rabbit, her eyes freezing in pure terror the second they landed on Dominic.