The toddler's innocent words that saved the mafia boss's life.

Nora hurried down the hallway, pulling Lucy along much faster than before. Her mind was racing, piecing together the horrifying scene she had just witnessed. She knew the rumors about Vivian’s ruthless ambition. The woman had married Alaric for his empire, and with Alaric out of the way, Vivian would inherit everything, acting as the sole regent until Lucy came of age.

"Nora, you are walking too fast!" Lucy complained, dragging her miniature gold bow shoes against the carpet.

"I am so sorry, Lucy," Nora breathed, stopping to pick the toddler up. She settled the three-year-old on her hip, mindful of her rumpled white apron. "I just need to get back to the party."

"Vivvy has night-night pills," Lucy stated matter-of-factly, squeezing her plush snowman.

Nora froze, staring at the innocent child. "What did you say, sweetheart?"

"The bottle," Lucy explained, her round rosy cheeks illuminated by the dim hallway sconces. "Vivvy calls them night-night pills. She puts them in her juice when she is angry."

Nora’s blood ran cold. The child didn't understand the danger, but the implication was devastating. Vivian wasn't just tampering with a drink; she was intending to administer a lethal dose to the most powerful mafia boss in the city. If Alaric drank that champagne, he would never wake up.

"Lucy, you have to listen to me very carefully," Nora said, her clear, expressive eyes locking onto the toddler's. "We have to go find your daddy right now. And we have to stay right beside him."

"Okay!" Lucy agreed happily. "Daddy likes the Christmas tree."

Nora rushed toward the grand salon, her fitted black maid dress swishing around her legs. As she approached the heavy double doors, the sound of laughter and clinking crystal glasses washed over her. She stepped into the warm golden light, her eyes frantically scanning the crowded room.

She spotted Alaric standing near the towering Christmas tree, surrounded by a group of capos. From the opposite side of the room, Vivian was approaching him. The new bride carried two flutes of champagne, her polished, affectionate public manner flawlessly masking the murder she was about to commit.