The Fake Lunatic: I Played Crazy To Bury My Brother

For three years, I was locked inside a mafia black site, enduring daily electroshock therapy and forced chemical cocktails.

I truly believed I was losing my mind, until my fingers brushed against a hidden wiretap taped beneath the treatment table.

The recorded voices belonged to my husband and my biological brother.

"Turn her into a mindless vegetable before Friday, so I can legally seize her proxy votes."

It turned out I was never sick.

My late father, the legendary Don, had left me a controlling stake in the syndicate, locked in an offshore trust that would thaw in exactly seven days.