Chapter 4 - The Doctor’s Trembling Hand
In the soundproofed library on the main floor, the fire in the hearth crackled quietly, casting long, flickering shadows across rows of leather-bound volumes.
Dr. Samuel Vance stood near the center of the Persian rug, his coat off, his tie loosened. Sweat soaked through his linen shirt, sticking to his ribs. Standing before him was Dominic Russo, holding a crystal tumbler of straight scotch in one hand and a heavy, silver-plated fountain pen in the other.
"You've taken care of my family for fifteen years, Samuel," Dominic said, his tone shockingly conversational as he walked slowly around the doctor like a wolf circling a wounded deer. "When my father had his stroke, you were there. When my brother was ambushed in Chicago, you operated in a basement for nine hours to save his life."
"Dominic... I was forced into this," Dr. Vance stammered, his knees visibly shaking. "You don't understand the reach the Moretti family has in New Jersey. They have my son, Dominic. They threatened to kill him if I didn't swap the vitamin complex with the compound."
Dominic stopped directly behind the physician. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't reach for a gun. The absolute stillness in his posture was far more terrifying than rage.
"Your son is currently sitting in a private diner in Newark, enjoying a stack of pancakes under the protection of my men," Dominic murmured softly near Vance’s ear. "I had him picked up twenty minutes ago, the moment the little girl mentioned the blue seal."
Dr. Vance gasped, spinning around, his eyes wide with shock. "You... you have Toby?"
"He is safe," Dominic said flatly. "Which is more than I can say for you. You brought a chemical weapon into my mansion, Samuel. You allowed Isabella to use an innocent child’s bedroom as a staging ground for my execution."
"It was Isabella’s idea!" Vance burst out, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. "She said if we used the nursery wing, the security cameras wouldn't pick up the exchange! The nanny, Norah—she was paid twenty thousand dollars to leave the door unlocked!"
Dominic took a slow sip of his whiskey, letting the silence stretched long enough to crush whatever remaining composure the doctor had left.
"Where is the rest of the shipment?" Dominic asked.
"In Isabella’s suite," Vance confessed, his voice breaking into a sob. "In the false bottom of her jewelry trunk. Three more vials. Enough to kill a dozen men."
May you like
Dominic nodded slowly. He set his glass down on the edge of his mahogany desk, picked up the silver pen, and offered it to the doctor along with a blank piece of paper.
"Write down every name, every account, and every meet-up location the Morettis gave you," Dominic commanded softly. "Write fast, Samuel. Because my patience has a very short fuse tonight."
