Chapter 3: The Poison Beneath the Medicine
Over the next six days, Leo gained nine ounces.
It was not enough to transform him, but it was enough to transform the house.
The cooks spoke above whispers again. The guards smiled when Hunter carried Leo through the hall. Fresh flowers appeared in the nursery. Someone opened the curtains, allowing cold winter sunlight to spill across the carpet.
Lorenzo remained cautious.
Every morning, he asked Dr. Halloran for Leo’s weight.
Every night, he stood in the nursery doorway until Hunter invited him inside.
By the seventh night, he could hold his son without trembling.
Hunter began to see two versions of Lorenzo Rossi.
One was the man people feared: sharp-eyed, controlled, capable of issuing commands that made armed men leave rooms quickly.
The other sat beside Leo’s crib at three in the morning and hummed the same broken melody Sophia had once sung.
Hunter never told him she heard.
But Leo’s recovery was inconsistent.
After several strong feedings, he began vomiting again.
His temperature spiked.
Red patches appeared along his neck.
Dr. Halloran blamed Hunter’s diet.
“You may be eating something he cannot tolerate,” he said.
Hunter stared at him.
“I’ve eaten only what your nutritionist approved.”
“Human milk changes daily.”
“So does his medication.”
The doctor’s expression sharpened.
“My treatment has kept him alive.”
“No. Machines kept him alive. Feeding made him stronger. Now something is hurting him again.”
Dr. Halloran stepped toward her.
“You are emotionally attached and medically unqualified.”
Hunter looked toward the crib.
A nurse had just administered Leo’s evening drops.
“What is that?”
“An anti-reflux compound.”
“Was he given it before he got sick?”
“He receives it twice a day.”
Hunter’s pulse quickened.
“Did he receive it on the first night I fed him?”
“No. His dose was missed because of the incident with Nurse Mercer.”
Hunter went still.
The first night Leo kept milk down had been the one night he did not receive the medicine.
She looked at Lorenzo.
He understood immediately.
“Stop the medication,” he ordered.
Dr. Halloran paled.
“That would be reckless.”
“Stop it.”
“You hired me for my expertise.”
“I hired you to save him.”
“If we interrupt treatment without evidence—”
Lorenzo crossed the room.
The doctor backed away.
“Test the bottle,” Lorenzo said.
A guard took the small amber container from the cart.
Dr. Halloran looked toward the door.
That glance condemned him.
Lorenzo saw it.
So did Hunter.
“Lock down the estate,” Lorenzo said.
The room erupted into motion.
Doors were sealed.
Phones were collected.
Staff members were separated.
The medication was rushed to a private laboratory used by one of Lorenzo’s legitimate companies.
The result arrived three hours later.
The bottle contained a diluted industrial compound that could cause nausea, intestinal inflammation, dehydration, and eventual organ failure in an infant.
Someone had been poisoning Leo slowly enough to resemble a mysterious medical disorder.
Lorenzo read the report without speaking.
Then he placed it on the desk.
“Bring Halloran to me.”
The doctor had already tried to flee.
He was found near the service entrance with fifty thousand dollars in cash inside his medical bag and a forged passport taped beneath the lining.
Hunter remained upstairs with Leo while the mansion shook with the consequences.
She heard a man shouting below.
She heard furniture strike a wall.
She heard Lorenzo’s voice once, low and terrifying.
Then silence.
An hour later, Lorenzo entered the nursery.
There was blood on his cuff.
Hunter’s stomach turned.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hurt him?”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
“You promised.”
“I promised Tommy Vance would reach court alive.”
“You knew what I meant.”
Lorenzo looked at Leo sleeping against her shoulder.
“Halloran poisoned my son for weeks.”
“And now you need to know who paid him.”
“I know.”
Hunter opened her eyes.
“Who?”
“The Moretti family.”
“I thought you destroyed them.”
“So did I.”
Lorenzo sat across from her.
“Halloran claims he was approached before Sophia’s death. He was told that if the bombing failed to eliminate the heir, he would finish the work after delivery.”
Hunter held Leo tighter.
“Then Sophia’s death and Leo’s illness were the same plan.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Lorenzo’s eyes became cold.
“Because control of the Rossi organization passes through blood. Without Leo, my uncle becomes the next legal beneficiary of several family trusts.”
“Your uncle?”
“Vittorio Rossi.”
Hunter remembered seeing him at dinner two nights earlier. A silver-haired man with elegant manners and a warm smile. He had kissed Leo’s forehead and called him a miracle.
“He lives here.”
“He has lived beside me for thirty years.”
Lorenzo looked toward the camera in the corner.
“Which means Halloran was not acting alone.”
The door opened.
Lorenzo’s chief of security, Marco Bellini, entered.
Marco was broad-shouldered, quiet, and had worked for the Rossi family since before Lorenzo married Sophia.
“We searched Halloran’s communications,” Marco said. “He used disposable phones. Most messages were erased.”
“Most?”
“One number remains. The phone that received his updates is inside this estate.”
Lorenzo stood.
“Whose?”
“We are tracing it.”
At that moment, the nursery lights went out.
The monitor beside the crib died.
May you like
Hunter heard the lock click.
Then smoke began pouring through the ventilation grate.
