Chapter 3 - THE MAN I TRUSTED WITH MY EMPIRE
“Find Warren Pike.”
I said it quietly.
Ruth knew that tone.
Within thirty seconds, she had security personnel checking every exit.
Olivia stood beside the ruined birthday table, her face drained of color.
“You're making a terrible mistake,” she said.
“Then explain the recording.”
She folded her arms.
“Warren gave me something Rachel had left in the kitchen. I put it back in her purse.”
“A bottle Rachel says she has never seen?”
“Maybe she's lying.”
Rachel flinched.
I turned toward Olivia.
“Don't accuse her again without evidence.”
Olivia's eyes flashed.
“After everything I've done for you, you're taking the word of a kitchen assistant over mine?”
I looked at Sophie asleep against her mother's shoulder.
“I'm taking seriously what a frightened child saw.”
Detective Vega interrupted.
“Mr. Moretti, your security team located Mr. Pike. He's still in the hotel.”
Warren was in my private office on the twenty-third floor.
When we arrived with the detective, he was sitting behind my desk.
My desk.
He didn't rise.
“Gabriel,” he said calmly. “I heard there was an incident downstairs.”
“You already knew.”
He glanced at Vega.
“Is this an official investigation?”
“It is,” she answered.
Warren smiled faintly.
“Then I'm happy to cooperate through my attorney.”
I had watched Warren negotiate with casino executives, difficult investors, and men who believed they could intimidate anyone.
He never raised his voice.
That was one reason I had trusted him.
Now I wondered how many times his calmness had concealed a lie.
“Why did you hand Olivia that bottle?”
He spread his hands.
“She asked me to bring it upstairs. Something about a kitchen employee's prescription.”
“Rachel Bennett doesn't recognize it.”
“Then someone made a mistake.”
“Daniel Bennett,” I said.
Warren's fingers stopped moving.
Only for a moment.
But I saw it.
“Remember him?”
“Of course. Tragic situation.”
“His wife says he died after working my engagement party.”
“Yes. Heart condition, as I recall.”
“Funny,” I said. “I don't remember ever being told about him.”
Warren leaned back.
“Gabriel, hundreds of people work your events. You can't personally know everyone.”
That was true.
And hearing it from him made me hate how often I had used the same excuse.
Detective Vega asked Warren to remain available while she reviewed the evidence.
He agreed.
But as we left, he called after me.
“Be careful about allowing grief to become an accusation, Gabriel.”
I stopped.
“Whose grief?”
He didn't answer.
Downstairs, Rachel was waiting in a private lounge with Sophie.
I told her what we'd found.
She listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she asked something I wasn't prepared for.
“Mr. Moretti, did you know my husband tried to contact your office before he died?”
I stared at her.
“No.”
“He said something was wrong with the catering invoices. He wanted to speak with whoever owned the casino.”
“Why didn't he?”
“He tried.”
She pulled a folded photograph from her wallet.
It showed Daniel standing in a kitchen, wearing a white catering jacket.
He had a warm smile, dark hair, and a little girl balanced on his hip.
Sophie pointed.
“Daddy.”
Rachel touched the photograph.
“He wasn't trying to become rich. He wasn't trying to cause trouble. He wanted to keep his job and come home to us.”
I couldn't look away.
“Do you have his messages?”
“His phone was returned to me, but some of his work emails were inaccessible after he died.”
“Then we'll find the records.”
Rachel shook her head.
“You don't understand. Daniel told me he'd already spoken to someone at your company.”
“Who?”
“He wouldn't tell me. He said he didn't want me frightened.”
Before I could respond, Detective Vega returned.
“The preliminary evidence review has raised another concern. We need the catering records and every serving utensil from tonight.”
She turned to Adrian, who had joined us.
“Was the entire cake prepared in one batch?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Except Mr. Moretti's portion.”
“Explain.”
“The black icing decoration on his slice was finished separately.”
“Who handled it?”
Adrian hesitated.
“My assistant placed the slice in the private service refrigerator. I was called away before it was served.”
“By whom?”
He looked at Olivia.
She said nothing.
The next morning, Vega returned with an urgent preliminary laboratory finding.
We were sitting in the same lounge when she placed the report on the table.
“The untouched cake samples showed no evidence of the sedative we're investigating,” she said.
Rachel looked confused.
“Then Sophie was wrong?”
“No.”
Vega turned toward me.
“The black frosting recovered from your jacket tested positive for a powerful sedating substance.”
I stared at the stain that had nearly ruined my birthday.
The stain Sophie had put there.
The detective continued.
“Someone altered your individual serving after the cake was prepared.”
Rachel pressed her hand against her mouth.
And I understood something worse than the possibility that someone wanted me dead.
Whoever had planned this hadn't poisoned a birthday cake.
May you like
They had prepared one particular slice for one particular man.
Me.
