Chapter 3 - The Traitor Within
The silence that fell over the hallway was so absolute you could hear the distant crash of harbor waves against the estate’s sea wall.
Dominic Ferrero slowly lowered the cup. His gaze shifted from Lucia down to the porcelain, and then back up to the child. A dangerous, predatory stillness settled over his frame—the kind of stillness that preceded a storm.
"What did you say, little one?" Dominic asked, his voice a low, gravelly hum that vibrated in the quiet air.
"My grandma drinks sleepy-tea when her heart beats too fast," Lucia said, taking a step closer, entirely unbothered by the armed men hovering nearby. "It makes her tongue feel thick and her eyes go heavy. Your cup smells like that tea, but worse. Like bitter almonds. If you drink it, you won't wake up for a very long time."
My knees buckled. I rushed forward, dropping to my knees and pulling Lucia behind me, pressing my forehead against the cold marble floor.
"Mr. Ferrero, please!" I sobbed, panic tearing through my throat. "She’s seven years old! She has an overactive imagination, she watches too many cartoons—I swear to God, I will take her and leave right now, we will never come back, please don't—"
"Quiet, Mrs. Reva," Dominic commanded softly.
He didn't look at me. Instead, he walked past us, picked up a silver dessert spoon from the tray, and dipped the tip into the steaming black coffee. He lifted it to his nose, sniffing it once. Then, with a cold, terrifying precision, he touched the droplet to the tip of his tongue.
Within three seconds, Dominic’s expression shifted. The fatigue vanished, replaced by an instantaneous, icy fury. His jaw clenched so hard muscle jumped in his cheek. He walked over to a heavy oak sideboard, spat the contents into a crystal vase, and spat again.
"Miller!" Dominic roared. The shout shook the chandeliers.
Miller appeared at the end of the hall in less than three seconds, hand on his holster. "Boss?"
"Take this tray," Dominic said, his voice dropping into an arctic register that sent a shiver down my spine. "Get it down to our chemist in the basement. Run a full panel immediately. Find out what neurotoxin was mixed into my roast."
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Miller’s eyes widened as he looked at the tray, then at me, then at Lucia. "Yes, sir."
"And Miller?" Dominic added, his eyes locking onto his head of security. "Lock down the estate. No one enters. No one leaves. Find out who brewed this pot."
