# A SIX-YEAR-OLD CAME TO WORK FOR HER SICK MOTHER, AND WHAT THE MAFIA BOSS DID NEXT LEFT THE ENTIRE MANSION SPEECHLESS

The sit-down was held in a neutral location—a dilapidated, empty warehouse in Brooklyn, stripped of shadows where snipers could hide. Rain drummed relentlessly against the tin roof, creating a steady, rhythmic tension.

Adrian sat at one end of a long, scarred wooden table. Marcus stood rigidly behind his right shoulder. At the other end sat Tommy Romano, a younger man with slicked-back hair, a sharp suit, and eyes that danced with a chaotic, drug-fueled energy. Tommy was surrounded by a dozen of his most vicious enforcers.

"You've been stepping on my toes, Adrian," Tommy sneered, leaning back and resting his boots on the table. "Shutting down my Bronx operations. Intercepting my shipments at the docks. You think you own this whole city?"

"I own what I built," Adrian replied, his voice calm, an ocean of controlled violence. "You broke the treaty, Tommy. You went after innocent people. You sent your dogs to a hospital to threaten a woman and a child."

Tommy laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "This is about the cleaning lady? Seriously? You're starting a multi-million dollar turf war over some broad who owes me five grand? What, is she magic in bed or something?"

Marcus tensed, his hand dropping to his weapon, but Adrian raised a single finger, stopping him. Adrian didn't react to the insult. He simply stared at Tommy with the cold, detached gaze of an executioner examining a condemned man.

"Sarah Carter and her daughter are under my protection," Adrian said evenly. "The debt is erased. Your presence in the Bronx is finished. You will pull your men back to Queens, or I will wipe the Romano name from the map."

Tommy slammed his feet onto the floor, rage flashing across his face. "You arrogant son of a bitch! You don't give me orders! My father built this syndicate—"

"Your father was a businessman," Adrian cut in sharply. "You are a rabid dog chasing cars. You have no discipline, no honor, and no foresight."

Tommy stood up, knocking his chair backward. His men instantly raised their weapons. Marcus and the Moretti guards did the same. The warehouse was a powder keg, a single twitch away from an absolute bloodbath.

"You want a war, Moretti? You got one," Tommy spat. "But don't think your fortress upstate is untouchable. I know where you're hiding the girl and the kid. I'm gonna burn that house down with them inside."

Adrian stood up slowly. He buttoned his suit jacket. "The meeting is over," he announced to the empty room, ignoring Tommy entirely. He turned his back on the armed men, a display of supreme disrespect, and walked toward the exit.

"Watch your back, Adrian!" Tommy screamed after him.

Once outside in the armored SUV, Marcus let out a breath he'd been holding. "That didn't go well."

"It went exactly as I planned," Adrian said, pulling out a burner phone. "He's emotional. He'll strike fast and sloppy. Call Evelyn. Put the estate on absolute lockdown. Nobody gets in or out without my biometric approval. And Marcus?"