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

Dominic turned toward the doorway, his smile broadening into something slick and performative. "Lily-bug! Look at you in your little lion pajamas. Come give Uncle Dominic a hug."

He held out his arms, taking a step toward the child.

Lily didn't move forward. She recoiled, pressing her small back hard against the doorframe. Her tiny hands gripped her gray stuffed rabbit so hard her knuckles turned white. Her lower lip quivered, and tears welled up in her hazel eyes.

"No," she whimpered, her voice trembling. "Stay away from me."

Dominic’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, his eyes flashing with irritation. "What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did you have a bad dream? Come here."

"No!" Lily cried out, ducking behind the corner of the wall. "Don't put me in the dark closet! Don't take Barnaby!"

The air in the room froze.

Dominic’s back stiffened. He turned back toward Adrian, letting out an awkward, nervous chuckle. "Kids and their imaginations, right? Maria must be letting her watch scary movies again. I’ll speak to her."

Adrian sat on the bed, his dark eyes boring into his brother with an intensity that could melt iron. The haze in Adrian’s gaze was completely gone. In its place was an icy, ancient predatory focus.

"She doesn't watch scary movies, Dominic," Adrian said. His voice was no longer raspy. It was deep, clear, and vibrated through the floorboards.

Dominic blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in Adrian's demeanor. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small amber prescription bottle. "Well... you need your morning medication. Dr. Mercer said these new stabilizers will balance the neuro-chemical firing in your brain. Take two. I'll pour you some fresh water."

"Dr. Mercer," Adrian repeated slowly, standing up from the bed.

Adrian was six-foot-three, broad-shouldered, and towered over his younger brother. As he stood tall, shoulders squared, the predatory aura of the syndicate boss who had conquered three rival cartels returned in full force.

Dominic instinctively took a half-step back, his throat bobbing. "Adrian? You... you look stronger."

"I slept seven hours, Dominic," Adrian said, stepping forward until he was inches from Dominic's face. "The first time in three years. Do you know why?"

Dominic's eyes darted toward the nightstand, then back to Adrian's chest. "Why?"

"Because I didn't drink the tea," Adrian whispered into his ear.

Before Dominic could process the words, Adrian’s right hand shot out like an iron clamp, grabbing Dominic by the throat and slamming him backward against the wall. The antique portrait of their grandfather rattled violently against the plaster.

Dominic gasped for air, his hands clawing desperately at Adrian’s arm. "A-Adrian... what are you... doing?!"

"Vance!" Adrian roared.

The dressing room doors flew open. Vance stepped out, his gun drawn and leveled at Dominic’s forehead, while Dr. Sarah Lin secured the toxicology report in her briefcase.

"Search his penthouse suite," Adrian commanded Vance, his fingers tightening around his brother's windpipe until Dominic’s face turned purple. "And bring Dr. Mercer to the docks warehouse. Alive. If Mercer resists, break his knees."