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

From the dark end of the long subterranean hallway, the slow, rhythmic sound of heavy footsteps approached.

A tall figure stepped into the light of the flickering halogen bulb. He wore a charcoal-gray tailored coat, his hair streaked with silver, and a jagged, vicious burn scar running down the left side of his neck, disappearing beneath his collar.

Cassian Vance smiled, but the smile never reached his dead, predatory eyes.

"You always were too sentimental, little brother," Cassian said, his voice a gravelly rasp damaged by smoke and fire. "Hiding behind maids and children. Grandfather would be disgusted."

Damian stepped forward, completely shielding Mara and Lila from his brother’s view. His twin handguns were raised, both barrels leveled straight between Cassian’s eyes.

"You should have stayed dead, Cassian," Damian said, his voice flat, devoid of any brotherly warmth. "I buried our father. I rebuilt what you tore apart. You have nothing left in this city."

"I have everything," Cassian countered smoothly, taking another step forward without showing the slightest fear of the guns pointed at him. "The syndicate charters don't care about your hard work, Damian. They care about lineage. And standing behind you is my direct descendant."

Cassian’s gaze pierced through the space between them, landing coldly on Lila. "Come here, Lila. Come to your father."

Lila didn't move. She held Mara’s hand tighter, her small face pale, but her eyes were cold and unyielding.

She lifted her free hand and signed a single gesture at Cassian.

Cassian’s smug smile vanished. "What did that mute little thing just sign?"

Mara, holding her bleeding shoulder, raised her head, her voice trembling with raw maternal venom. "She said... 'You smell like ashes, monster.'"