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

The high-rise boardroom of the Moretti Tower was sealed under level-four security lockdown.

All twelve senior syndicate bosses and family elders sat around the fifty-foot polished obsidian table. Tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Armed bodyguards lined the perimeter, their hands resting cautiously on their holstered weapons.

At the head of the table, an empty leather throne sat vacant—the seat of Adrian Moretti.

Dominic stood near the podium at the front of the room. He had cleaned himself up—or rather, Adrian had allowed him to be cleaned up. Dominic wore a fresh designer suit, heavy concealer masking the faint bruise on his neck, though his wrists were raw beneath his starched French cuffs.

Two of Dominic’s loyal lieutenants, whom Dominic believed were still in control of the building, stood behind him. What Dominic didn't know was that every single guard in the building had been quietly disarmed and replaced by Vance’s elite perimeter unit twenty minutes prior.

Dominic tapped his microphone, his voice echoing across the silent boardroom.

"Elders. Captains. Thank you for answering my emergency summons," Dominic began, his tone heavy with theatrical sorrow. He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "It is with a broken heart that I must call this vote today. For the past three years, my beloved brother Adrian has suffered a catastrophic mental and neurological decline."

The elders exchanged uneasy, murmuring glances. Elder Rossi, an old friend of Adrian's father, leaned forward. "Dominic, where is Adrian? He has never missed an elder summit in twenty years."

"Adrian is incapacitated," Dominic stated solemnly, gesturing to a stack of legal documents on the table. "Dr. Mercer has declared him mentally unfit to manage syndicate assets. Last night, Adrian suffered another violent episode. He is currently under heavy medical sedation at his penthouse. If we do not transfer supreme executive authority today, our federal rivals and the Chicago district attorney will dismantle everything our grandfather built."

Dominic clicked a remote. A large screen displayed a medical chart showing Adrian’s supposed deteriorating brain scans, alongside a binding contract naming Dominic Moretti as the sole managing director of the entire multi-billion-dollar empire.

"Under Family Bylaw Article Nine," Dominic declared, his voice rising with triumphant authority, "I move to strip Adrian Moretti of his title and assume complete control of the syndicate. All in favor, sign the decree before you."

Elder Rossi hesitated, his pen hovering over the paper. "This feels rushed, Dominic. I want to hear from Adrian himself."

"Adrian can no longer speak for himself, Rossi!" Dominic snapped, dropping his polite facade, his eyes flashing with raw arrogance. "Sign the paper, or you will be removed from this board by midnight!"

Suddenly, the heavy double oak doors of the boardroom unlocked with a deafening metallic thud.