Chapter 1 - The Hand on the Doorknob
The doorknob turned with a agonizingly slow, metallic click.
In the dim light of Alexander Romano’s bedroom, the tension was suffocating. My heart battered against my ribs. Marcus Hale’s hand moved subtly beneath his tailored suit jacket, his fingers resting on the handle of his concealed firearm. His eyes never left the door, but his posture remained terrifyingly calm.
The door pushed open, and Dr. Bennett stepped into the room.
The family physician looked exhausted, his tie loosened, a leather medical bag gripped in his right hand. But as his eyes flicked from me, to Marcus, and then to the tight grip Alexander still had on my wrist, a shadow of genuine panic crossed his face for a fraction of a second. It was so fast that if I hadn't been watching his every breath, I would have missed it.
"Marcus," Dr. Bennett said, his voice smooth but strained. "I didn't expect you to still be up. Nina, have you administered the two-milligram dose of the antipyretic yet? His fever needs to break before his heart undergoes too much stress."
My hand, still holding the bottle inside my pocket, trembled. The bottle said one milligram, but the pills inside were three. If I had given Alexander two pills, thinking they were one milligram each, I would have given him six milligrams—a lethal overdose that would look like a sudden, fever-induced cardiac arrest.
"I was just about to, Doctor," I lied, my voice remarkably steady despite the adrenaline roaring through my veins.
"Good. Let me see the medication to ensure the dosage is correct," Dr. Bennett said, stepping closer to the bed, extending his hand.
"No need, Doctor," Marcus interrupted, his voice dropping to that chilling, polite register. He stepped directly into Dr. Bennett’s path, effectively cutting him off from the bed. "Nina is a meticulous girl. If you left the instructions, she will execute them perfectly. Why don't you step down to the study with me? We need to discuss the... contingency plans for the Romano syndicate, should Alexander's condition fail to improve by morning."
Dr. Bennett hesitated, his eyes darting toward the nightstand, looking for the bottle. "Marcus, as his physician, I really must insist on verifying—"
"And as his consigliere, I must insist on this meeting," Marcus whispered. The politeness vanished, replaced by a cold, unyielding authority.
Dr. Bennett swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "Of course. Nina, give him the medication immediately. Every minute counts."
As the two men walked out of the bedroom, Marcus closed the heavy oak door behind them. The moment the latch clicked, I collapsed into a chair beside the bed, my knees giving out entirely.
I pulled the bottle out of my pocket. Three-milligram pills. Dr. Bennett had swapped them. The man who had taken care of the Romano family for two decades was trying to assassinate its king. But why? Was he working alone, or was Marcus Hale part of the plot? Marcus's interruption had saved me from handing over the bottle, but was he protecting Alexander, or was he just managing the timeline of the murder?
"Nina..."
A raspy, broken voice cut through the silence. I looked up. Alexander's dark eyes were open, bloodshot and glazed with fever, but focusing on me with an intensity that burned. His grip on my wrist tightened, pulling me closer until I was leaning over his chest.
"Don't... don't trust..." he choked out, his chest heaving as he fought for oxygen.
"Don't trust who, Alexander?" I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. "Dr. Bennett? Marcus? Tell me!"
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But the effort was too much. His eyes rolled back, his grip went entirely slack, and his head fell back against the pillows. The heart monitor beside his bed began to beep erratically, the numbers climbing dangerously high.
I had less than five minutes before the fever boiled his brain. I couldn't give him the poisoned pills. I had to find a way to save him myself, right under the noses of the wolves guarding his door.
