The Traitorous Brother Hired a Desperate Nurse to Poison the Wounded Mafia Boss — Until She Crushed the Syringe and Saved His Life Instead

The luxurious master bedroom suite was completely dark, suffocatingly hot, and incredibly tense. A single, thin strip of gray daylight cut through the heavy velvet curtains, illuminating the dust floating in the air.

Dominic Rossi, the thirty-four-year-old apex predator of the city’s underworld, sat propped against dark pillows. He was shirtless from the waist up, his heavily tattooed right shoulder wrapped in thick, blood-soaked bandages. His pale face was covered in a cold sweat beneath his dark stubble. He had been ambushed three hours ago, barely making it back to his heavily guarded estate alive.

The heavy double doors suddenly clicked open.

I stepped into the dim room, soaked from the freezing rain outside, and dropped my wet canvas duffel bag onto the hardwood floor with a heavy thud.

Dominic’s jaw clenched. He glared at me with a terrifying, lethal expression that had made seasoned cartel bosses drop to their knees. He didn't know who I was, but he knew I didn't belong in his inner sanctum.

"Get out," Dominic commanded. His voice was low, hoarse, and vibrating with dangerous authority.

I did not flinch. I didn't scramble backward or apologize. I stood completely still in the dim light, looking directly at the city's most dangerous man.

Dominic’s chest heaved. He waited for me to run like everyone else always did. But I stood my ground, entirely unaffected by his intimidating presence.

A flicker of genuine, cinematic shock broke through his terrifying exterior. He realized I wasn't afraid of him.