Chapter 2 - Shadows in the East Wing
The corridors of the Alfieri mansion at 3:00 AM were a maze of ticking grandfather clocks and oil paintings of stern ancestors who looked down with identical expressions of cold judgment. Adeline moved quietly, her rubber-soled shoes making no sound against the Persian runners.
She wasn't heading to the kitchen for water.
She was heading to the private study on the second floor—the room Salvatore Alfieri used when he visited.
Three nights ago, while looking for a misplaced blood pressure cuff, Adeline had noticed something odd about the antique writing desk. A false back panel, warped slightly by humidity, concealed a small compartment. Inside wasn't money or traditional ledger books. It was a stack of medical charts bearing the letterhead of Chicago General Hospital, detailing Nico’s spinal recovery.
Except they weren't Nico’s real charts.
They were altered documents designed to prove that Nico was suffering from progressive neurological cognitive decline—a legal loophole engineered by Uncle Salvatore to declare his nephew incompetent and seize absolute control of the Alfieri enterprise.
Adeline reached the heavy oak door of the study. It was unlatched. A thin sliver of yellow light cut across the dark hallway carpet.
She held her breath, pressing her back against the wall.
A voice drifted through the gap, low and venomous.
“...the wedding is just theater, Camille. Once the incompetent clause is signed by the probate judge on Monday morning, Nico’s share reverts to the council. You’ll get your payout, and the shipping ports are mine.”
It was Salvatore.
“And the nurse?” Camille’s voice replied, tight with nervous tension. “She’s too observant, Uncle. She grabbed my wrist tonight in front of thirty people. If she keeps digging into Nico’s medication records, she’s going to find the discrepancy in the slow-release paralytics.”
Adeline’s blood ran cold. Slow-release paralytics.
The puzzle pieces snapped together with terrifying clarity. Nico hadn't just been injured in the car crash eight months ago. Someone had tampered with his post-operative therapy medications, introducing a low-dose neurotoxin designed to mimic permanent paralysis and degrade his motor functions over time.
That wasn't an accident. That was systematic poisoning.
“Let her look,” Salvatore laughed softly, a wet, unpleasant sound. “By tomorrow night, the nurse’s quarters will be searched. We’ll find a stash of stolen narcotics in her bag, she’ll be arrested for drug trafficking, and her precious brother’s surgery will be canceled due to a ‘lack of guardian eligibility.’ End of problem.”
Adeline backed away from the door, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
May you like
She needed to move. Fast.
She sprinted down the corridor, her sneakers squeaking faintly on the polished wood, heading straight for the master suite at the end of the east wing.
