The Blind Mafia Boss Trusted No One—Until A Mute Maid Quietly Held His Shaking Hand

Damian Cross stepped out of the vehicle, wearing an Italian suit that cost more than a family home, his slicked-back dark hair gleaming in the setting sun. beside him walked Victoria Kensington, wrapped in a red silk coat, her heels clicking loudly against the stone steps of the porch.

They walked onto the terrace expecting to find a broken, weeping blind man rotting in a darkened room.

Instead, they found Dominic Castellano standing at the edge of the stone balustrade, looking out over his domain, immaculate, terrifying, and towering. beside him stood a striking young woman with dark hair and observant brown eyes, her hand resting naturally against his arm.

Damian stopped dead in his tracks, his smile freezing on his face.

Victoria gasped, her hand flying to her throat. "Dominic...?"

Dominic turned slowly, his cane tapping once against the stone floor. He faced them directly, his unseeing eyes locking onto the space between Damian's nose and mouth with terrifying accuracy.

"You're stepping on my hydrangeas, Damian," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a resonant, lethal baritone that echoed off the mountain walls.

Damian swallowed hard, recovering his composure, though a bead of sweat broke out near his temple. "Dominic. Brother. It’s been months... I came to check on your recovery."

"Did you?" Dominic took a slow step forward, his cane clicking rhythmically. "Or did you come to see if the funeral was ready?"

Victoria stepped forward, her expensive jasmine perfume filling the crisp mountain air. Meline instantly felt Dominic’s jaw tighten at the scent.

"Dominic, darling," Victoria purred, reaching out to touch his arm. "We’ve been so worried about you in the city. The stress of running the family... it’s been too much for Damian alone. We thought—"

"Touch me, Victoria," Dominic said softly, "and I’ll have my security toss you off this cliff."

Victoria pulled her hand back as if burned, her face twisting into a mask of rage. "You arrogant bastard! You're blind! You're helpless! You sit up here in this museum while Damian does the real work!"

Dominic smiled—a cold, terrifying flash of white teeth. "Is that what you think, Victoria?"

He turned slightly toward Meline. He reached out, his hand accurately finding her face, his fingers gently caressing her cheek in full view of his betrayers.

"I lost my eyes in that warehouse," Dominic said, looking directly at Damian. "But I gained something far more valuable. I learned who was real. And who was a snake waiting for my heel to slip."

Damian’s eyes narrowed into slits. His hand twitched toward the inside of his jacket. "You think you can challenge me from a mountain top, Dominic? The capos answer to me now. The banks answer to me."

"The capos answer to money," Dominic corrected smoothly. "And three days ago, I liquidated the offshore accounts in Zurich—the ones only the boss has the encryption keys for. You're broke, Damian. Your payroll for the Northern Territories bounces tomorrow morning at eight AM."