Chapter 1 - Don't Take Another Bite
“DON’T EAT THAT!”
Alessandro Romano froze with the bread less than an inch from his mouth.
The six-year-old girl beside him was shaking so badly that the stuffed rabbit in her arms trembled too.
“Someone put something in it,” Emma whispered. “I think they want you dead.”
The dining room went silent.
Alessandro slowly lowered his hand.
Three minutes earlier, he had been thinking about a nine o’clock meeting.
Now he was staring at melted butter as if it were a loaded gun.
“Emma.”
His voice stayed calm.
“Look at me.”
She did.
Her eyes were wet.
Not playful.
Not confused.
Terrified.
“Who put something in my food?”
Emma glanced toward the closed doors.
“Miss Isabella.”
Alessandro stopped breathing for half a second.
Isabella Moretti.
His fiancée.
The woman he was supposed to marry in twelve days.
“No guessing,” Alessandro said. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”
Emma hugged her stuffed rabbit, Rosie, tighter.
“I woke up early because I was thirsty. I went downstairs. Miss Isabella was in the kitchen.”
“Doing what?”
“She had a little bottle.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“And?”
“She put drops in the butter.”
Alessandro stared at the bread.
“How many?”
Emma frowned, trying to remember.
“A lot.”
His stomach tightened.
“Did she see you?”
Emma nodded.
“What happened?”
“She smiled at me.”
That answer bothered Alessandro more than if Emma had said Isabella screamed.
“What did she say?”
“She said grown-ups have secrets.”
Emma reached into her dress pocket.
Then she placed three folded hundred-dollar bills on the table.
Alessandro’s face hardened.
“She gave you this?”
Emma nodded.
“She said if I kept quiet, I could buy all the toys I wanted.”
Alessandro didn’t touch the money.
“And what did you say?”
“I told her I already have Rosie.”
Despite everything, something twisted inside his chest.
Emma wasn’t his daughter.
Her mother, Elena, had worked in the Romano estate for years before dying in a car accident eighteen months earlier.
Emma had stayed with her grandmother, Teresa, who managed the household.
Over time, the little girl had simply become part of the house.
Her crayons ended up on Alessandro’s desk.
Her drawings appeared on the refrigerator.
She sometimes waited by the front steps when he returned from business trips.
And now she was telling him the woman he loved had poisoned his breakfast.
“Emma,” he said softly, “this is important. Did Isabella tell you what was in the bottle?”
“She called it medicine.”
“What kind of medicine?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Did she tell you what it would do?”
Emma lowered her voice.
“She said soon you’d finally get some rest.”
Alessandro’s expression changed.
He looked back at his plate.
He had spent twenty years building Romano Holdings into one of the largest private construction companies on the East Coast.
He had survived lawsuits.
Hostile partners.
Family wars.
Betrayals from men who smiled while shaking his hand.
But he had never imagined danger might come in the form of buttered bread served inside his own home.
“I need proof,” he said.
Emma stared at the bread.
Then she gave him an answer so simple it chilled him.
“Make her eat it.”
Alessandro looked at her.
“If it’s safe,” Emma said, “she’ll eat it.”
Click.
Click.
Click.
High heels crossed the marble hallway.
Emma’s face went white.
Alessandro quietly pulled her closer.
“Stay beside me.”
The footsteps stopped.
The handle turned.
Isabella entered wearing a cream dress, her dark hair falling perfectly over one shoulder.
“Good morning.”
She kissed Alessandro’s cheek.
Then she noticed Emma.
Her smile tightened.
“You’re up early.”
Emma said nothing.
Isabella’s eyes moved to the breakfast table.
Coffee.
Fruit.
Newspaper.
Then the untouched bread.
She stopped.
Only for a second.
But Alessandro saw it.
“Something wrong with breakfast?” she asked.
Alessandro picked up the bread.
“Actually,” he said, “I was saving this for you.”
Isabella stared at it.
“For me?”
“Take a bite.”
She laughed.
It sounded forced.
“Alessandro, I already ate.”
“One bite.”
Her eyes flicked toward Emma.
Alessandro noticed.
So did Emma.
“I’m really not hungry.”
He held it closer.
“Then humor me.”
Isabella’s smile disappeared.
“What is this?”
“A piece of bread.”
“You’re acting strange.”
“Maybe.”
He kept his arm extended.
“Take a bite.”
For five long seconds, Isabella didn’t move.
Then she suddenly slapped the plate from the table.
It shattered across the marble floor.
Emma screamed.
Isabella stepped back.
Alessandro rose slowly.
“What the hell was that?”
“There was a bug on it!” Isabella snapped.
“A bug?”
“Yes.”
Alessandro stared at the bread lying beside the broken porcelain.
Then he looked at Isabella.
There was no bug.
Emma whispered behind him.
“She knows.”
May you like
Before Alessandro could answer, Isabella turned toward the doorway.
And ran.
