Chapter 2
The van smelled like bleach.
That was the first thing I noticed when Luca brought me to the service road.
Bleach.
Rubber.
And something metallic underneath.
Blood.
Police had not been called yet.
Luca said he wanted five minutes before the property became public.
Marco hated that.
I could tell.
But nobody argued with Luca when his voice got that quiet.
The white van sat beneath a broken streetlight.
Rear doors open.
Empty crate inside.
A chain.
Dog hair.
Brown and black.
Bruno.
I touched the fur.
My chest tightened.
“He was here.”
Luca looked at the blood stain near the wheel well.
“Is that his?”
“I don’t know.”
Marco crouched.
“Too much for a superficial cut. Not enough for a fatal injury if it’s canine.”
I hated the word fatal.
Vanessa stood thirty feet away beside one of Luca’s security men.
She had stopped demanding to leave.
Now she was silent.
Luca picked up the bracelet in an evidence bag.
“Yours?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Initials match.”
“So?”
“I bought it for you.”
Her face tightened.
“I lost it months ago.”
“When?”
“I don’t remember.”
I did.
She wore it yesterday.
At breakfast.
I had noticed because it caught against the silk napkin she threw at me when I spilled coffee.
I opened my mouth.
Vanessa saw.
Her eyes sharpened.
Luca followed my glance.
“You saw it recently.”
I nodded.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Vanessa laughed.
“She’s obsessed with me now.”
“No.”
I looked at Luca.
“She wore it at breakfast.”
He said nothing.
Marco walked around the van.
“Driver fled on foot.”
“Victor?”
“Probably.”
“Find him.”
“We’re working on it.”
Then one of the guards called out.
“Got something.”
Beneath the passenger seat was a phone.
Cheap.
Prepaid.
No lock.
Marco opened the messages.
Most were deleted.
Three remained.
6:03 PM
V: Tonight. No mistakes.
6:11 PM
H: Girl is a problem.
6:12 PM
V: Handle her if you have to.
My skin went cold.
Vanessa said, “That proves nothing.”
Luca looked at her.
“You’re right.”
She blinked.
“It proves you’re stupid enough to put instructions in writing.”
Her face flushed.
“You think that’s me?”
“I think the initial V is having a difficult evening.”
Marco scrolled.
One photo.
Bruno inside the kennel.
Another.
Me.
Taken from behind.
At the exact moment I bent to loosen Bruno’s collar.
Then a third.
Sofia.
Sleeping.
In her bedroom.
I stared.
Luca went completely still.
“Why does Victor have a photo of my mother?”
No one answered.
Marco opened the image details.
“Taken four days ago.”
Inside the house.
Private wing.
Luca looked at Vanessa.
“How did he get upstairs?”
“I don’t know.”
“You hired him.”
“For the dog.”
“Stop saying that.”
His temper finally broke.
Vanessa stepped back.
Luca pointed toward the photo.
“A stranger was in my mother’s room.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Then you’re either lying or incompetent.”
Her face twisted.
“You’ve changed.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I’ve started paying attention.”
I looked away.
That was dangerous.
Not because I didn’t want him looking at me.
Because part of me did.
Marco interrupted.
“More messages.”
One draft had never been sent.
H: Old woman wakes too much. Dog notices.
Luca read it twice.
Then turned toward the mansion.
“Get Dr. Klein.”
Marco nodded.
“And call the police now.”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“You can’t.”
Luca looked back.
“Watch me.”
Her composure cracked.
“If the police come, they’ll search everything.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t understand.”
That stopped him.
“Then explain.”
She looked toward the house.
“Your mother has medications she shouldn’t have.”
My stomach dropped.
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
“Ask Emma.”
Everyone looked at me.
I froze.
“What?”
Vanessa smiled.
“She has access to Sofia’s medications.”
Luca looked at me.
“Do you?”
“I bring her prescribed pills.”
“Only prescribed?”
“Yes.”
Vanessa laughed softly.
“Check her room.”
I felt sick.
“My room?”
Luca’s expression changed.
He didn’t want to suspect me.
That was almost worse.
Marco sent two women from security.
I waited outside my room with Luca.
Vanessa stood at the end of the hallway.
Five minutes later, one guard emerged holding a small velvet pouch.
“I found this under the mattress.”
I stared.
“I’ve never seen that.”
Inside were four glass vials.
No labels.
And a syringe.
Luca looked at me.
I could barely breathe.
“I didn’t put those there.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Of course.”
I turned to Luca.
“You believe me?”
He did not answer fast enough.
Pain hit harder than I expected.
Then he said:
“Yes.”
Vanessa laughed.
“Unbelievable.”
Luca looked at the vials.
“Emma wouldn’t hide drugs under her mattress.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if she wanted to hide something, she’s smart enough not to put it under her own mattress.”
I almost laughed.
Wrong moment.
Still.
Marco handed one vial to Dr. Klein when he arrived.
The doctor examined it.
“No markings.”
“Can you test it?”
“Yes.”
“How fast?”
“If the hospital lab cooperates, an hour.”
Luca nodded.
“Do it.”
Klein looked at Sofia’s medication chart.
“What exactly are we looking for?”
Vanessa said nothing.
I remembered something.
Three nights ago.
Sofia awake at 2 A.M.
Whispering.
Trying to say a word.
Not Vanessa.
Not Bruno.
A name.
I had thought it was nonsense.
Now I wasn’t sure.
“Daniel.”
Luca looked at me.
“What?”
“Your mother said Daniel.”
His face changed.
“Daniel who?”
“I don’t know.”
Vanessa went still.
That was enough.
Luca saw it.
“You know.”
“No.”
“Who is Daniel?”
She said nothing.
Dr. Klein’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face went pale.
“That was fast.”
“What?”
He looked at the vial.
“This contains scopolamine and a high-dose sedative.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“What would that do?”
“Confusion. Memory impairment. Suggestibility. At this dose, dangerous respiratory depression.”
Silence.
I whispered, “Someone has been drugging her.”
Klein nodded.
“Yes.”
Luca turned toward Vanessa.
She backed up.
“You think I did this?”
“I think you know who Daniel is.”
She shook her head.
Luca stepped closer.
“Who?”
Her voice broke.
“Daniel Bellini.”
I stared.
Her last name.
Luca frowned.
“Your brother?”
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“No.”
Then she whispered:
“My husband.”
Back at the mansion, Luca refused to let anyone throw away a single piece of trash from the service wing. He had bins sealed, laundry held, and medication carts photographed. It seemed excessive until one housekeeper admitted she had been told to wash Sofia’s sheets twice that week after unexplained night sweats and confusion. Dr. Klein looked uneasy when he heard that. I noticed. So did Luca. Vanessa noticed us noticing, and for the first time I saw her look toward the doors as if calculating distance.
Every answer created another question, but the questions no longer frightened me the way silence did. I had spent too much of my life accepting explanations because they were easier than uncertainty. That had changed. I would rather live with an ugly truth than a beautiful lie, even if the truth cost me people I wanted to believe in.
The police arrived fifteen minutes after the lab result, and suddenly every private corner of the Moretti estate belonged to strangers wearing gloves. Detectives photographed the medicine cabinet. Officers took statements from cooks, housekeepers, drivers, and security. Vanessa asked for an attorney before anyone had accused her of a crime. Luca heard that and said nothing, but I watched a final piece of trust leave his face.
Dr. Klein sat at the kitchen island with Sofia’s medication chart spread before him. He circled dates. “Her confusion became significantly worse three weeks ago.”
“The same time Bruno started growling at Vanessa,” I said.
Klein looked at me. “Maybe.”
Luca did not like maybe. “Could those drugs have made my mother fall?”
“Yes.”
“Could they make her appear more neurologically impaired than she is?”
Klein hesitated. “Potentially.”
The room became very quiet.
For months Sofia’s family had accepted her decline as medical tragedy. Specialists had adjusted treatment. Therapists had reduced expectations. Luca had installed handrails, ramps, monitoring equipment. What if someone had been manufacturing part of the illness? The idea was so cruel that my mind rejected it before the evidence forced it back in.
I remembered Sofia gripping my fingers during baths, trying to say words that came out blurred. I had assumed frustration. Maybe she had been fighting through chemicals.
Luca walked to the sink and braced both hands against the counter. “How long to know?”
“Blood and hair testing can show exposure patterns.”
“Do it.”
Klein nodded.
Vanessa entered at that moment with her attorney on speakerphone. She looked composed again. Makeup fixed. Hair smooth. Armor restored.
“You are not testing Sofia without my consent,” she said.
Luca turned slowly. “Your consent?”
“I’m her future daughter-in-law.”
“You are nothing legally.”
Her face tightened.
He continued, “And after tonight, I’m not sure what you are personally.”
That landed.
Vanessa looked at me as though I had caused the sentence. Maybe in her mind I had.
A detective asked whether she recognized Victor Hale’s number. She said no. They showed her the messages. She said anyone could have saved her initial. They showed her the bracelet. She said it had been stolen. Every answer was possible by itself. Together they sounded rehearsed.
Then one of the forensic officers came in carrying a plastic bag. Inside was a small clump of soil and fabric recovered from the van’s rear mat.
“Cemetery dirt,” he said.
Marco frowned. “How can you tell?”
“Not cemetery specifically. Clay and ornamental mulch. But there’s decomposed floral material mixed in.”
Vanessa’s face changed.
I saw it.
So did Luca.
He asked, “Where did Victor go before he came here?”
May you like
She said nothing.
And that was the first moment I wondered whether Bruno had been taken not to a trainer—but to lead someone back to a grave.
