Chapter 3 - Poison in the Honey
Dr. Julian Vance had been the Moretti family’s private physician for twenty years. He was a veteran trauma surgeon who had patched up my men in dark basements and delivered infants in safehouses. He owed his life to me, and his loyalty was absolute.
Twenty minutes after my call, Vance slipped into my private office through the underground entrance connected to the mansion’s wine cellar.
I pointed to the silver tray sitting on my desk. An hour earlier, while Evelyn was downstairs filming a live video for her social media page, I had personally slipped into the nursery and swapped the poisoned mug of tea with an identical one filled with plain herbal tea.
“Test it,” I said simply.
Vance opened his black medical kit, pulling out chemical reagents, test tubes, and digital analyzers. For ten tense minutes, the only sound in the office was the clinking of glass and the low hum of the air purifier.
When Vance finally looked up, his weathered face was pale, his eyes wide with shock.
“My God, Vincent,” Vance whispered, holding up a glass vial that had turned a murky, dark violet. “What is this?”
“You tell me, Doctor.”
“It’s a cocktail,” Vance explained, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted his glasses. “High concentrations of a prescription paralytic mixed with a slow-acting digitalis extract. In small doses, it doesn't kill. It causes severe muscle weakness, chronic dizziness, extreme fatigue, and mental confusion. It mimics the symptoms of severe postpartum depression and autoimmune failure.”
My jaw tightened until my teeth ground together. “What happens if someone takes this daily?”
“Within a month? Complete organ failure,” Vance replied grimly. “Her heart would simply slow down until it stopped. Any medical examiner would rule it a natural death brought on by post-childbirth complications.”
The insidious genius of Evelyn’s plan hit me like a physical blow.
She wasn't trying to murder Isabella outright. She was slowly breaking her down, making her completely bedridden and dependent on her mother. And once Isabella was gone, Evelyn would step in as the grieving, heroic grandmother, taking sole custody of baby Luca—the heir to the entire Moretti fortune.
“Can you reverse it?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.
“Isabella’s liver is strong, but she’s taken enough of this over the past ten days to weaken her system significantly,” Vance said. “I can synthesize an intravenous neutralizing agent. If we slip it into her daily IV fluid bag under the guise of vitamin therapy, her body will clear the toxin within forty-eight hours.”
“Do it,” I ordered. “And Vance... not a word of this to my wife yet. She is too fragile to bear the shock of knowing her own mother is poisoning her.”
“Understood, Vincent. But what about the mother-in-law?”
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I turned toward the wall of security monitors, where Evelyn was currently standing in the grand foyer, posing for a photo with a large bouquet of flowers sent by one of her online brand sponsors.
“Evelyn thinks she is playing a game of chess,” I murmured, my dark eyes reflecting the cool light of the screens. “She has no idea she walked onto a battlefield.”
