Chapter 4 - The Family Dinner
The grand dining room of the Bolaro mansion was bathed in the warm glow of a crystal chandelier, but the atmosphere was as cold as a morgue.
Lorenzo sat at the head of the long mahogany table. To his right sat his younger brother, Julian—handsome, impeccably dressed in a tailored Italian suit, but carrying the nervous energy of a man who spent too much time in casinos. To his left sat Sofia, his late wife’s sister—elegant, sharp-eyed, dressed in mourning black that she had never truly shed since her sister's death. At the far end sat Dominic, Lorenzo’s cousin and chief financial officer—a heavy-set, quiet man who spent his life staring at ledgers and tax shelters.
Matteo stood behind Lorenzo, his hands folded in front of him, while four armed guards lined the perimeter of the room.
"Lorenzo, this is absurd," Julian snapped, pouring himself a glass of wine with a hand that visibly shook. "You drag us out of our beds at three in the morning, lock the front gates, and have your goons confiscate our phones? We are your family!"
"Family," Lorenzo repeated the word slowly, letting it hang in the air like smoke. "Family is supposed to mean loyalty. It's supposed to mean protection."
"Is this about Nico?" Sofia asked softly, her green eyes filled with apparent concern. "How is the poor sweet boy? Has Dr. Crane found a new treatment for his condition?"
"Dr. Crane is currently sitting in my cellar," Lorenzo said flatly.
Sofia gasped, covering her mouth. Julian nearly spilled his wine. Dominic merely blinked behind his thick spectacles.
"Why?" Dominic asked, his deep voice monotone. "What did Crane do?"
"Dr. Crane didn't do anything—except accept a million-dollar bribe to pretend my son had a rare disease," Lorenzo revealed, leaning forward, resting his fists on the polished table. "Nico isn't sick. Someone in this house has been feeding him poison every single night at midnight."
A suffocating silence fell over the room.
"Poison?" Julian breathed, his face draining of color. "Lorenzo... you can't possibly think... you think one of us did this?"
"I know one of you did this," Lorenzo said coldly. "The poison was delivered through a modified bottle cap. A custom piece of work. It required access to the nursery, knowledge of the feeding schedule, and enough money to buy off a senior physician."
"This is insane!" Julian shouted, standing up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the marble floor. "I love that baby! He’s my nephew! Why would I want to hurt him?!"
"Because if Nico dies, Julian, your three-million-dollar debt to the syndicate in Detroit magically disappears under the new inheritance distribution," Lorenzo said without raising his voice.
Julian froze, his mouth opening and closing silently.
"And you, Sofia," Lorenzo turned his gaze to his sister-in-law. "You’ve been fighting me in court for six months trying to gain control of my late wife’s charitable trust—a trust that transfers entirely to Nico on his first birthday."
"I wanted that trust to build a foundation in my sister's memory!" Sofia cried, tears streaming down her face. "How dare you accuse me of harming her child! He is all I have left of her!"
" And Dominic," Lorenzo continued, looking down the table at his cousin. "You’ve been skimming off the shipping accounts for two years. You thought I didn't notice. If Nico inherits, an independent forensic audit is legally required by the probate court. You'd be in prison before the ink on the estate transfer was dry."
Dominic took off his glasses, calmly wiping them with his napkin. "A business audit is a minor inconvenience, Lorenzo. I don't poison children."
"One of you did," Lorenzo said. "And nobody leaves this house until I find out which one."
Upstairs, in the nursery, Maya heard a faint sound.
It wasn't coming from the hallway. It was coming from the private terrace attached to the nursery—a second-story balcony that overlooked the formal gardens.
Maya stood up instantly, her body tense. She grabbed a heavy brass candleholder from the nightstand. She walked quietly toward the French doors, her rubber-soled nursing shoes making no sound against the rug.
May you like
Through the rain-streaked glass, she saw a shadowed figure standing on the balcony, wrapped in a dark raincoat. The figure held a small electronic device, pressing it against the smart-lock panel of the terrace door.
A soft click echoed through the glass. The lock turned.
