Chapter 3 - The Laboratory Report
The night dragged on like a slow-moving nightmare.
Alessandro did not call the police. He did not call Viktor. He did not raise an alarm. Instead, he locked the silver medication tray inside a heavy iron safe hidden behind a mahogany panel in his wall.
"If I accuse him now without undeniable proof," Alessandro had told me, his voice deathly quiet, "his men will burn this house to the ground before sunrise. Dominic controls half the security detail outside those gates. I need evidence that cannot be bought, denied, or buried."
At seven o'clock the following morning, the sun broke through the grey Chicago clouds, casting a harsh, pale light across the snow-covered lawn.
I stood in the service kitchen, my hands trembling as I poured fresh coffee into a silver carafe. Emma was sitting on a high stool near the counter, swinging her legs happily while eating a bowl of warm oatmeal prepared by the chef.
"Mama," she said, holding up a wooden spoon. "Where is the sad man today?"
"He's in his room, sweetie," I murmured, wiping down the stainless-steel counter for the fourth time. "He's very busy."
"He needs another cookie," she declared with absolute conviction. "He didn't finish his smile yesterday."
Before I could answer, the side door of the kitchen opened. Dominic Rosso stepped inside.
He was wearing a dark grey wool coat over a charcoal suit, holding a leather briefcase in one hand and a takeaway coffee cup in the other. He looked fresh, rested, and completely composed. But as his eyes swept across the kitchen, they locked instantly onto me and Emma.
He walked over to the counter, setting his coffee down with a soft thud.
"Good morning, Tessa," he said smoothly. His tone was polite, but his eyes were hard, scanning my face like a razor blade. "How was your first night in the west wing?"
"It was fine, Mr. Rosso," I said, keeping my voice flat and my eyes lowered. "The quarters are very comfortable."
"I noticed you stayed in the west wing past eight PM last night," Dominic remarked casually, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "Nurse Sarah said you were still in Alessandro's office after she finished her rounds."
My heart did a violent flip inside my chest. He was watching. He had been checking the security logs or asking the staff.
"Mr. Moretti asked me to scrub the hearth and organize his legal folders," I lied smoothly, forcing myself to meet his sharp hazel eyes. "He was in a lot of pain, so he went to bed early. I left around nine."
Dominic leaned in slightly, his gold-rimmed glasses catching the harsh fluorescent light of the kitchen. "Did he take his evening medication?"
The question was asked so casually, so effortlessly, that anyone else would have missed the deadly thread running through it. But I saw it. I saw the subtle tightening around his eyes, the slight hitch in his breathing as he waited for my answer.
He wasn't asking out of concern. He was asking why Alessandro Moretti hadn't died in his sleep.
"I believe so, sir," I said, my voice steady despite the ice in my veins. "Nurse Sarah left the silver tray on his desk. He was drinking water when I left the room."
Dominic stared at me for three agonizing seconds. The silence in the kitchen was deafening, broken only by the hum of the commercial refrigerators and the gentle clinking of Emma's spoon against her bowl.
Finally, Dominic smiled. It was a cold, empty stretch of his lips.
"Alessandro is a stubborn man," Dominic said, straightening his coat. "He thinks he can fight time. He thinks he can fight his own broken body. But nature always wins in the end, doesn't it, Tessa?"
"I suppose so, sir," I replied.
"Keep the child out of the hallways today," Dominic added, his tone dropping an octave, turning dark and menacing. "We have high-profile visitors arriving at noon. I would hate for an... unfortunate accident to occur because a little girl was where she didn't belong."
He turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen, his heavy boots clicking rhythmically against the tile until the heavy door swung shut behind him.
I leaned against the counter, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My hands were shaking uncontrollably.
At 10:00 AM, while Dominic was meeting with regional managers in the east wing board room, Alessandro summoned me back to his office.
When I entered, he was sitting at his desk, wearing a dark suit jacket over a black turtleneck. On his desk lay a sealed white envelope and a heavy brass key.
"Tessa," Alessandro said, gesturing toward the envelope. "I need you to perform a task for me. A task I cannot trust to any man who carries a gun in this house."
I stepped closer to the desk. "What is it, Mr. Moretti?"
"Inside that envelope is the blue capsule you saved me from last night," he revealed, his gray eyes burning with cold intensity. "Along with a sample of the liquid from my water glass. I need you to leave the estate."
I blinked. "Leave?"
"Take the service van," Alessandro instructed. "Mrs. Gable has already authorized a supply run for kitchen linens. You will take Emma with you. Drive to the Northwestern Memorial Hospital pathology laboratory in downtown Chicago. Go to Room 402."
He pushed a small business card across the desk. On it was written a name: Dr. Aris Thorne.
"Dr. Thorne is my personal physician," Alessandro continued. "He is one of the few men in this city who owes his life to my father. Hand him this envelope personally. Tell him I need a toxicological screening report delivered to my private email within two hours."
I looked at the envelope, then at the brass key. "And the key?"
"That key unlocks the private security server box in the basement of this house," Alessandro said, his voice dropping into a dark whisper. "Dominic thinks he erased the hallway camera footage from yesterday evening. He doesn't know that my father built a secondary hard drive system that records directly to a hidden server behind the wine cellar."
He reached out, his warm, strong hand closing around mine, pressing the brass key into my palm.
"If that pill contains what we think it contains," Alessandro said, looking deeply into my eyes, "that server will hold the video footage of Dominic entering my office at 5:45 PM yesterday to swap my medication."
I felt the heavy weight of the brass key against my skin. I was just a maid. A mother trying to pay rent. I had no business standing in the center of a bloody war between mafia lords.
"Why are you trusting me with this?" I asked softly. "You don't even know me."
May you like
Alessandro looked past me, toward the doorway where Emma had stood the morning before, holding out her broken butter cookie.
"Because a woman who protects her child with her life," Alessandro said, "will never sell her soul to a coward like Dominic Rosso. Go, Tessa. And be careful."
