Chapter 3 — The Poison in the Glass
Chapter 3 — The Poison in the Glass
The estate locked down at 11:52 p.m.
No announcement was made.
No alarm sounded.
The orchestra continued playing for another three minutes before Lorenzo raised one hand from the balcony.
The music stopped.
Three hundred guests looked up.
Some laughed nervously.
Others checked their phones.
Lorenzo descended the marble staircase slowly.
His face was calm.
Too calm.
Serena stood near the fireplace.
She was holding a glass of champagne now.
Not wine.
Lorenzo noticed.
She saw him looking.
"What's wrong?"
He smiled.
"Nothing."
"Then why did you stop the music?"
"I wanted everyone's attention."
A murmur moved through the ballroom.
Lorenzo stepped onto the center of the floor.
"Nobody leaves the estate tonight."
Silence.
Then an older man laughed.
"Is this some kind of joke?"
Lorenzo looked at him.
"No."
The laughter died.
"My security team is checking the property. Until they're finished, every guest remains inside."
A senator protested.
"I have a flight."
"You'll miss it."
The senator's face reddened.
Lorenzo didn't care.
His eyes moved through the crowd.
Serena remained perfectly still.
Then she smiled.
"Is this really necessary?"
Lorenzo turned toward her.
"Apparently."
She walked closer.
"Did something happen?"
"Not yet."
Her eyebrows lifted.
"Not yet?"
Lorenzo smiled.
"That's why we're being careful."
He walked past her.
As he did, he noticed something.
Her perfume.
Roses.
Vanilla.
And beneath it...
the faint metallic smell of something he couldn't identify.
Lorenzo kept walking.
He didn't look back.
But Serena did.
Dr. Moretti arrived through the private entrance at 12:16 a.m.
He was sixty-one, silver-haired, and one of the few physicians Lorenzo trusted.
He had treated Lorenzo's father.
He had stitched Lorenzo's shoulder after an assassination attempt.
He had once refused a suitcase containing half a million dollars because, as he put it, "I am a doctor, not a banker."
Tonight, he entered carrying a black medical case.
He looked frightened.
That alone told Lorenzo enough.
They met inside the private study.
Marco closed the door.
Mia and Elena were not there.
Lorenzo had ordered them moved to a secure room upstairs.
No one else was allowed inside.
Moretti placed the case on the desk.
"Sit."
Lorenzo sat.
Moretti opened the case.
"I need blood."
"How much?"
"Enough."
Lorenzo rolled up his sleeve.
Moretti inserted the needle.
Neither man spoke.
When the vial filled, Moretti removed it and immediately sealed it.
Then he looked at Lorenzo.
"How long?"
"Four months."
Moretti stared at him.
"Four months of what?"
"Ringing. Headaches. Numbness. Distorted hearing."
"Any confusion?"
"Sometimes."
"Memory loss?"
"Minor."
"Balance?"
"Occasionally."
Moretti's expression tightened.
"Vision?"
"Sometimes blurred."
Moretti leaned back.
"Any episodes of vomiting?"
"No."
"Chest pain?"
"No."
"Seizures?"
"No."
Moretti nodded slowly.
"That's why they chose this."
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed.
"Who?"
Moretti didn't answer.
Instead, he opened his laptop.
"I've already tested the sample from the wine."
Lorenzo leaned forward.
"And?"
Moretti turned the screen toward him.
"There is a compound in it."
"What compound?"
"It's synthetic."
"Name."
"I don't have one yet."
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
"Then tell me what it does."
Moretti took a breath.
"In very small quantities, it produces neurological symptoms."
"Such as?"
"Ringing in the ears. Auditory distortion. Headaches. Fatigue. Numbness. Balance problems."
Lorenzo stared at him.
"And hearing loss?"
"It can mimic it."
The room became silent.
Lorenzo leaned back.
"So I'm not going deaf."
"No."
Moretti looked directly into his eyes.
"You're being poisoned."
Lorenzo didn't react.
He had suspected it.
Hearing the words was different.
"How much?"
"Small doses."
"How small?"
"Small enough that conventional testing might miss it."
"How often?"
"Frequently."
Lorenzo's expression hardened.
"How long until it kills me?"
Moretti hesitated.
"That's difficult to say."
"Answer me."
"If the exposure continues..."
Moretti paused.
"You could suffer permanent neurological damage."
"And death?"
"Possible."
"How?"
"Organ failure. Severe neurological complications. Eventually respiratory or cardiac problems."
Lorenzo looked down at his hands.
For four months, he had believed his body was betraying him.
Instead...
someone else had been doing it.
Quietly.
Patiently.
Deliberately.
He looked at Moretti.
"Can you prove it?"
"Yes."
"Can you prove where it came from?"
"Not yet."
"Can you identify the substance?"
"With a better laboratory."
"How long?"
"Forty-eight hours."
Lorenzo shook his head.
"Too long."
Moretti looked concerned.
"Why?"
"Because whoever is doing this believes I still don't know."
He stood.
"I want them to keep believing that."
At 12:43 a.m., Lorenzo returned to the ballroom.
The guests were growing impatient.
Security guards stood at every entrance.
No one understood why.
Serena was sitting alone.
Lorenzo approached her.
She smiled.
"Finally."
He sat beside her.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Ruining your party."
She laughed softly.
"You haven't ruined anything."
Her hand rested on his.
Lorenzo looked at it.
"You know what I was thinking?"
"What?"
"About our wedding."
She smiled.
"You were thinking about it tonight?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"I think we should move it forward."
Serena's eyes brightened.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Very soon."
She leaned closer.
"How soon?"
Lorenzo smiled.
"Before the end of the month."
She kissed him.
He let her.
Her lips touched his.
He felt nothing.
No love.
No warmth.
Only calculation.
When she pulled away, she whispered:
"I knew you'd come to your senses."
Lorenzo smiled.
"Me too."
Then his phone vibrated.
A message from Marco.
The wine bottle has been tested.
Another message appeared.
The substance is present in the bottle.
Then:
But there is something else.
Lorenzo typed:
What?
Marco replied:
Someone replaced the original label.
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed.
He looked toward the bar.
The bottle sat behind the counter.
Exactly where it had been all evening.
He stood.
Serena looked up.
"Where are you going?"
"To check something."
"What?"
"Nothing important."
She smiled.
"Come back."
Lorenzo nodded.
"I will."
The kitchen was empty.
Marco stood beside the wine storage.
He held a bottle in a plastic evidence bag.
"This is the one."
Lorenzo looked at it.
"How do you know?"
"Same bottle number."
"Open it."
Marco looked at Moretti.
The doctor nodded.
The seal was broken.
A small sample was taken.
Moretti examined it.
His expression changed.
"There's more."
Lorenzo looked at him.
"What?"
"The poison concentration isn't uniform."
"What does that mean?"
"It means someone isn't putting the same amount into every bottle."
Lorenzo stared.
"They're adjusting it."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"To control the symptoms."
Moretti's voice became quiet.
"Whoever is doing this knows exactly what they're doing."
Lorenzo's eyes darkened.
"They're watching me."
"Yes."
"Testing me."
"Probably."
Lorenzo thought for a moment.
"What happens if I stop drinking?"
Moretti looked at him.
"The symptoms should gradually improve."
"How quickly?"
"Depends on how much has accumulated in your system."
Lorenzo nodded.
Then something occurred to him.
"If they know that..."
He looked at Marco.
"Why haven't they increased the dose?"
Marco frowned.
"Maybe they don't want you dead yet."
Lorenzo turned.
"Exactly."
He stared at the bottle.
"Someone needs me alive."
Moretti looked thoughtful.
"Until when?"
"Until they get something."
"What?"
Lorenzo didn't answer.
He was already thinking about the marriage.
The companies.
The inheritance.
The contracts.
His father's estate.
The controlling shares.
The Romano family had wanted access to Duca assets for years.
But there was something they couldn't obtain while Lorenzo was alive.
Something that required his signature.
Something that would transfer control.
Lorenzo's expression changed.
"The merger."
Marco understood.
"The marriage contract."
Lorenzo nodded.
"Not just the marriage."
He looked at Moretti.
"They need me to sign something."
At 2:17 a.m., Lorenzo entered his father's old office.
The room had been untouched since his father's death.
Bookshelves.
Dark leather.
A massive desk.
A locked cabinet.
Lorenzo opened the cabinet.
Inside were old legal documents.
He searched for the family trust.
Found it.
Read the first page.
Then the second.
His eyes stopped.
A clause.
One sentence.
A condition his father had insisted on adding twenty years earlier.
No transfer of controlling interest shall be recognized during a period of incapacity, coercion, or documented neurological impairment.
Lorenzo read it again.
Then again.
A cold smile appeared.
"That's it."
Someone had been poisoning him.
Not to kill him immediately.
To make him appear mentally and physically incapable.
Then they could claim he was no longer fit to control the Duca empire.
If he signed the right papers...
they could take everything.
But there was another problem.
Lorenzo had never told Serena about that clause.
Almost no one knew.
His father had kept the document private.
Lorenzo closed the file.
Someone had gone to extraordinary lengths.
Which meant the person behind it had access to information inside the family.
Someone close.
Very close.
His phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
You should have stayed in bed tonight.
Lorenzo stared at it.
Another message appeared.
The wine was supposed to be enough.
His blood ran cold.
A third message.
Now we have to change the plan.
Lorenzo slowly smiled.
He typed one sentence.
Who are you?
No response.
Instead, another message appeared.
Ask the little girl.
Lorenzo's smile disappeared.
He immediately left the office.
Mia was asleep in the secure room.
Elena sat beside her.
Lorenzo entered quietly.
Elena stood.
"What happened?"
"Who knows about Mia?"
Elena looked confused.
"What do you mean?"
"Someone told me to ask her."
Elena's face went pale.
She looked at her daughter.
Lorenzo crouched beside the bed.
Mia opened her eyes.
She saw him.
Then she immediately looked frightened.
Lorenzo softened his voice.
"It's okay."
Mia stared at him.
"Someone knows you saw something."
The girl's breathing quickened.
Lorenzo didn't touch her.
"You don't have to speak."
Mia slowly sat up.
She looked at Elena.
Then at Lorenzo.
She reached for a pencil.
Elena gave it to her.
Mia drew.
A woman.
A bottle.
A man.
Then another figure.
A tall man standing behind the woman.
Lorenzo pointed.
"Who is he?"
Mia shook her head.
She drew a black mark over his face.
"Do you know him?"
She nodded.
"Have you seen him here?"
She nodded.
"Tonight?"
She shook her head.
"Before?"
She nodded.
"How many times?"
Mia held up three fingers.
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed.
"Three?"
She nodded.
"Where?"
She pointed toward the basement.
Then she drew a door.
A locked door.
Lorenzo understood.
"He's beneath the house."
Mia nodded.
Elena whispered:
"No."
Lorenzo looked at her.
"What?"
"You can't go there."
"Why?"
"Because that's where Serena takes the bottles."
Lorenzo froze.
"She goes there?"
Elena nodded.
"After midnight."
"Tonight?"
"I don't know."
Lorenzo looked at the clock.
2:31 a.m.
Then he heard something.
A faint metallic sound.
From beneath the floor.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Three more.
Mia's eyes widened.
She grabbed Lorenzo's sleeve.
Then she pointed toward the basement.
Lorenzo stood.
"Marco."
His security chief entered.
"Yes?"
Lorenzo looked toward the floor.
"Someone is down there."
Marco reached for his weapon.
Lorenzo raised a hand.
"No guns."
Marco frowned.
"Why?"
"Because I want him alive."
He looked at Mia.
The child was trembling.
Then he looked at Elena.
"Stay here."
Lorenzo turned toward the door.
Marco followed.
The corridor lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then the entire mansion went dark.
Somewhere below them...
a door slammed.
And from the basement came the unmistakable sound of glass breaking.
Lorenzo smiled without humor.
"He's running."
Marco looked at him.
"Who?"
Lorenzo's eyes hardened.
"The man who has been poisoning me."
He started toward the stairs.
"And tonight..."
May you like
He reached the basement door.
"...he finally made a mistake."
