The Billionaire Mafia Boss Fire-Fired His Maid — Until Her 4-Year-Old Deaf Daughter Signed the Murderer's Name

"Touch her, and I'll skin you alive in front of your gods," Damian growled, the barrel of his gun never wavering from Julian’s forehead.

Julian didn't look intimidated. He slowly lowered his right hand, dipping two fingers into his tailored vest pocket. "You're surrounded, Damian. Cassian didn't come with a few street mercenaries. He brought an entire tactical division funded by the northern cartels. They control the surface. They control the estate."

Mara scrambled up from the bench, pulling Lila behind her. Her maternal fear transformed instantly into savage defiance. "Cassian abandoned us to die! He never cared about this child—he only wants her because of the trust fund Don Marco established before his death!"

Damian’s eyes narrowed slightly, processing the information. The Vance bloodline was governed by a centuries-old syndicate charter: the direct firstborn child of the Vance blood held sixty percent of the family’s global offshore holdings upon turning five years old. Cassian didn't want a daughter; he wanted an untouchable financial key.

Lila peeked out from behind Mara’s legs. She watched Julian carefully, noticing that while his face looked calm, his left hand behind his back was tapping against the concrete wall in a strange, deliberate pattern: three taps, a pause, two taps.

Suddenly, Lila stepped forward. She didn't sign to Damian this time. Instead, she picked up an empty brass shell casing from the floor and tossed it hard against the steel door frame behind Julian.

The metallic clatter echoed sharply through the bunker.

Julian startled, instinctively glancing over his shoulder toward the noise.

That split-second distraction was all Damian needed.

With blinding mafia speed, Damian closed the distance. His fist struck Julian’s jaw like a sledgehammer, sending the financial officer crashing onto the concrete floor, his concealed detonator skittering across the tiles.