Chapter 3 - The Doctor Who Knew Too Much
Dr. Samuel Harland arrived at the mansion at 1:18 in the morning.
He came angry.
That told me more than fear would have.
A frightened man asks what happened.
An angry man asks who changed the plan.
“Why was Mr. Varelli moved?” he demanded as soon as he entered the library.
Marco stood by the door.
Luca sat near the open window beneath two blankets.
I was pretending to dust the bookshelves because Luca had insisted I remain.
Harland’s gaze landed on me.
“What is she doing here?”
“She has a name,” Luca said.
The doctor hesitated.
“Mara.”
“Good. You remember.”
Harland adjusted his glasses.
“Luca, your immune system is compromised. The windows should be closed immediately.”
“No.”
“You could develop pneumonia.”
“I could also continue breathing.”
Harland’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Luca noticed.
“I want another toxicology panel,” Luca said.
“We’ve done six.”
“Do seven.”
“There is no clinical reason.”
“Then humor a dying man.”
The doctor’s eyes dropped.
That was his first mistake.
The second came when Luca said, “And test the diffuser.”
Harland’s head snapped up.
“The diffuser?”
Silence filled the room.
I felt Marco shift beside the door.
Luca remained expressionless.
“Yes.”
Harland recovered.
“Of course. If that gives you peace of mind.”
“You recommended it.”
“I recommend dozens of interventions.”
“You ordered that exact unit.”
Harland folded his arms.
“What exactly are you implying?”
Luca looked toward me.
“Mara gets headaches when it runs.”
The doctor almost laughed.
“Household staff often react to essential oils.”
Household staff.
Not people.
I stepped away from the shelf.
“My mother died after long-term exposure to hidden mold.”
Harland glanced at me.
“That is unfortunate.”
I hated the clinical way he said it.
Like he was acknowledging bad weather.
I said, “Luca sleeps better when the diffuser is off and the room is ventilated.”
His face sharpened.
“Mr. Varelli’s condition is far more complicated than anything you would understand.”
Maybe that was true.
But arrogance has a smell too.
And I had learned to recognize it.
“I understand enough to know you kept a man with respiratory symptoms in a sealed room with a wet wall.”
Harland looked toward Luca.
“You are allowing this?”
Luca’s voice turned cold.
“She noticed what six specialists missed.”
“That does not make her a physician.”
“No. It makes you embarrassing.”
Harland’s jaw tightened.
Marco’s phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
Then at Luca.
“The preliminary test is back.”
Everyone went still.
“What did they find?” Luca asked.
Marco hesitated.
“Fungal spores in the reservoir.”
Harland paled.
Not much.
Enough.
“And?” Luca said.
“Trace amounts of an immunosuppressive compound.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Luca did not move.
Neither did I.
Harland spoke first.
“That is impossible.”
Marco looked at him.
“I didn’t tell you which compound.”
The doctor froze.
There it was.
Not proof.
But almost.
Harland stepped backward.
Marco moved in front of the door.
Luca’s voice was soft.
“Sit down, doctor.”
Harland remained standing.
“I will not be interrogated by criminals.”
Luca gave a humorless laugh.
“You have accepted my money for seven years.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“You knew.”
“I knew nothing.”
“Then why did you insist the room remain sealed?”
“For your health.”
“Why that diffuser?”
“Air treatment.”
“Why did you tell everyone never to switch it off?”
Harland’s face was wet now.
Sweat.
He looked at Vittorio, who had remained in the far corner of the library almost forgotten.
That was the third mistake.
Luca followed the glance.
So did Marco.
Vittorio’s expression did not change.
But mine did.
Because suddenly I understood.
The doctor was afraid.
Not of Luca.
Of Vittorio.
Luca leaned back.
“Uncle?”
Vittorio sighed.
“Samuel is under pressure. Do not turn every nervous movement into conspiracy.”
“Whose pressure?”
“Yours.”
Luca stared at him.
“I’ve been dying for ten months and you think he fears me?”
Vittorio stepped forward.
“You are ill. Exhausted. Paranoid. That girl has filled your head with—”
“That girl,” Luca said sharply, “is the reason I can breathe.”
The words landed harder than I expected.
Vittorio looked at me.
For the first time, there was hatred in his eyes.
Not annoyance.
Not class contempt.
Hatred.
I realized then that my life had changed the moment I touched that wall.
Harland moved suddenly.
Marco caught him before he reached the door.
The doctor struggled.
“Let me go.”
“Sit,” Marco said.
“I said let me go!”
A small glass vial fell from Harland’s coat pocket.
It hit the carpet without breaking.
Everyone stared at it.
Marco picked it up using a handkerchief.
Harland went silent.
Luca’s eyes never left him.
“What is it?”
Harland swallowed.
“Medication.”
“For whom?”
No answer.
Marco read the handwritten label.
Then looked at Luca.
“It’s your name.”
I felt my stomach turn.
Luca’s face became unreadable.
“My prescription list doesn’t include injectable medication.”
Harland said nothing.
Vittorio moved toward the door.
Marco blocked him too.
“Where are you going?”
Vittorio lifted his chin.
“You cannot detain me in my nephew’s home.”
Luca looked at him.
“My home.”
Then to Marco.
“Lock the gates.”
The rain continued pounding the mansion windows.
Somewhere downstairs, security shutters began lowering over the exits.
For the first time, I understood the scale of the world I had stepped into.
The mansion was no longer a house.
It was a fortress.
And nobody inside was leaving.
Luca turned toward Dr. Harland.
“You are going to tell me what is in that vial.”
The doctor’s face collapsed.
“I never wanted you dead.”
Vittorio closed his eyes.
Luca went completely still.
May you like
Then Harland whispered the words that changed everything.
“He only wanted you weak enough to sign.”
