Chapter 3 - The Bottle
Leo survived.
That was the only reason Lorenzo did not burn the world down before breakfast.
The dose in the bottle had been small.
Dangerous.
But small.
Dr. Feld believed Leo vomited before absorbing enough to stop his breathing.
The bottle had never reached the second half.
Luck.
I hated relying on luck.
By six in the morning, the estate was sealed.
No staff left.
No deliveries entered.
Phones were collected from anyone with access to the nursery kitchen.
I refused to give mine up.
Lorenzo and I argued in the hallway.
“It’s everyone.”
“I’m not everyone.”
“Someone poisoned my son.”
“And framed me.”
His expression changed.
He knew.
“I need to know who people contacted.”
“Get a warrant.”
“This is my house.”
“My phone is not.”
He stared.
I stared back.
Then something miraculous happened.
Lorenzo stopped.
“Fine.”
I almost fell over.
“You’re learning.”
“Don’t enjoy it.”
Too late.
Camila, the family attorney’s investigator, arrived around seven.
Not related to my friend from another life. Different Camila. This one was Camila Reed, former state police, now private security compliance.
She interviewed everyone.
When it was my turn, she did not soften the questions.
Where had the milk been expressed?
Who saw me label it?
Who transported it?
Who stored it?
Who warmed the bottle?
Could I have added the drug?
Yes, technically.
Did I?
No.
Was I taking diazepam myself?
No.
Did I have access?
Not legally.
Then she asked about Tomas.
My ex.
The room went cold inside me.
“How do you know about him?”
“Background file.”
I looked toward the one-way glass.
I knew Lorenzo was probably behind it.
Of course he had investigated me.
“When?”
“Before you were hired.”
“Why?”
“This is the Rossi estate.”
I hated that answer.
Camila continued.
“Tomas Vega was released on bail four days ago.”
My skin went cold.
“No.”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
The restraining order hearing had been postponed after I moved into the Rossi job.
I had changed addresses.
Changed my number.
I thought I was hidden.
“Could he know where you work?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does he have any connection to the Rossis?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Camila slid a photograph across the table.
Tomas.
Standing outside a bar in Chelsea.
Talking to Luca Rossi.
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
Before I fed Leo.
Before anyone knew my milk would matter.
I looked up.
“What does Luca want with him?”
“That’s what we’re trying to learn.”
Lorenzo entered without knocking.
I glared.
“You were listening.”
“Yes.”
“At least admit it.”
He sat.
Camila showed him the photo.
His expression hardened.
“Where did you get this?”
“One of Luca’s own security logs.”
“Why was Tomas there?”
“No idea.”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“Did he ever mention the Rossi name?”
“No.”
“Any gambling?”
“Sometimes.”
“Debts?”
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
Tomas had always owed someone.
Bookmakers.
Friends.
Bars.
Then he would come home angry at me because somebody wanted repayment.
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“Ten thousand? Twenty?”
Camila checked notes.
“Forty-eight.”
I stared.
Forty-eight thousand dollars.
Tomas had owed money to a Caruso-adjacent gambling operation later acquired by a Rossi associate.
Luca had taken over collections after Valentina died.
There it was.
A connection.
Not proof.
But enough to make the air feel dangerous.
I looked at Lorenzo.
“Do not kill him.”
He stared.
“That is your first concern?”
“Yes.”
“After what he did to you?”
“Especially after what he did to me.”
His eyes sharpened.
I continued.
“If you kill him, you make him part of my life forever.”
Lorenzo said nothing.
Then nodded once.
“Fine.”
Camila looked between us like she had just witnessed a lunar eclipse.
“What?”
I asked.
“Nothing.”
By noon, security footage revealed the bottle had been out of camera view for eleven minutes.
A pantry corridor.
No camera because one had malfunctioned weeks earlier.
Four people passed through.
A nurse.
A kitchen assistant.
Luca.
And Lorenzo’s mother, Sofia Rossi.
I almost laughed.
“Wonderful.”
Lorenzo did not.
His mother arrived in the study furious.
Sofia Rossi was sixty-five, elegant, tiny, and terrifying.
“You think I poisoned my grandson?”
“No,” Lorenzo said.
“You locked my phone.”
“You leave it everywhere.”
“That is because I am not a criminal.”
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow.
She glared.
I liked her immediately.
Sofia had gone through the corridor to retrieve chamomile tea.
The nurse carried laundry.
The kitchen assistant had a tray.
Luca claimed he was looking for Lorenzo.
No one admitted touching the bottle.
Then toxicology found something else.
The diazepam was not liquid medication.
It came from a crushed tablet.
A tablet formulation used in one place on the property.
The security infirmary.
Who had access?
Medical staff.
Security leadership.
Lorenzo.
Luca.
The list was getting worse.
That evening, I sat beside Leo while he slept.
No feeding.
He had an IV.
The doctors wanted his stomach to rest.
I hated seeing the needle taped to his tiny arm.
Lorenzo stood by the window.
“Go sleep,” I said.
“No.”
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
Fair.
We were quiet.
Then he said, “I’m sorry.”
I looked up.
“For what?”
“The gun.”
That was not where I expected the conversation to go.
“I believed you were hurting him.”
“I know.”
“I should have assessed before aiming.”
I almost laughed.
“That is an absurd sentence.”
“Yes.”
“But accurate.”
He looked at me.
“I also had you investigated without telling you.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sorry for that.”
Of course.
I smiled despite myself.
Then his expression changed.
“Elena, why did you keep working after losing your daughter?”
My throat tightened.
“Because I needed money.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
I knew.
I looked at Leo.
“Because if I stopped moving, I was afraid I would never start again.”
Lorenzo nodded slowly.
“That I understand.”
Valentina filled the silence between us.
I asked quietly, “Did she die instantly?”
“No.”
He looked toward the floor.
“I reached the hospital before she died.”
I had not known.
“She was conscious?”
“For three minutes.”
“What did she say?”
His jaw tightened.
“Save him.”
Leo.
“She never asked about herself.”
I swallowed.
“What else?”
Lorenzo’s eyes lifted.
“She said, ‘Don’t make him become you.’”
That sentence hurt him.
I could see it.
“What did she mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
He looked almost angry.
Then resigned.
“She wanted him to have a choice.”
The exact thing Lorenzo’s world rarely gave anyone.
Before I could answer, Camila entered.
“We found Tomas.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
“Outside Providence.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo’s face hardened.
Camila continued.
“He says Luca paid him.”
I stood.
“For what?”
Camila looked at me.
“To get hired by a catering company servicing the estate.”
My stomach dropped.
May you like
Tomas had been inside the mansion.
And suddenly the bottle was no longer the only threat.
