1038 The Billionaire Mob Boss Is Paralyzed and Trapped in His Own Bed—And Only the Live-In Nanny Knows His Family Is Finishing Him Off Piece by Piece

The next morning, the heavy marble mansion felt suffocating. Sunlight poured through the tall arched windows of the dining room, but it brought no warmth. I sat at the small kitchen table feeding Theodore a jar of strained carrots while trying to quiet my racing thoughts.

At 10:00 a.m., Sarah, the head housekeeper, walked into the kitchen with a crisp linen apron and a stern expression.

“Nora,” she said, her voice clipped. “Mrs. Winslow wants to see you in the solarium immediately.”

My stomach dropped. I wiped Theodore’s face, my hands steadying by sheer willpower, and carried him up to the second floor. Every instinct told me that Elena had discovered something—that the hidden panel had been checked, or that Dr. Wallace had noticed a discrepancy in the medical log.

When I pushed open the double doors of the solarium, the smell of fresh orchids and expensive coffee washed over me. Elena sat at a wrought-iron table, pouring tea from a silver pot. Christopher was pacing near the glass pane, scrolling through his phone with a scowl.

“Ah, Nora. Come in,” Elena said, not looking up from her teacup. “Sit down.”

“I can leave Theodore in the nursery—”

“No, let the boy stay,” Elena interrupted smoothly, gesturing to an empty chair. “Family matters require everyone’s attention today.”

I carefully sat down, resting Theodore on my lap. I kept my expression blank, channeling every ounce of calm I possessed.

“We have a situation,” Christopher said, running a hand through his gelled hair. “Dr. Wallace called. He says Uncle Raymond’s neurological decline is entering its final phase. Which means we need to finalize the estate distribution agreements before the lawyers get involved.”

Elena took a slow sip of her tea. “Everything is already prepared, Christopher. Your uncle signed the preliminary succession papers six months ago, before his stroke. Once he passes, the transition of assets will be immediate and seamless.”

I stared at her across the table. Six months ago. Right around the time Raymond must have started realizing what she was doing.

“Seamless, right,” Christopher muttered, leaning against the window frame. “Except for one loose end. The domestic staff. I don’t want a bunch of strangers wandering around the estate while we’re dealing with the lawyers and the press.”

Elena turned her icy gaze toward me. A heavy silence filled the solarium, broken only by the chirping of an exotic bird in a gold cage near the door.

“Christopher is right,” Elena said softly. “You’ve done a competent job with the child, Nora, but the household is about to undergo a significant change. We’ve arranged for a private car to take you and your son to a residence downtown this afternoon. Your severance package has already been processed.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. They were clearing house. Once I was out of the mansion, Raymond would be completely isolated, and they could finish him off by nightfall without a single witness left inside the walls.