Chapter 3 - THE DEAD WOMAN’S PRESCRIPTION
I did not know much about Bianca Moretti.
That had been intentional.
Inside the Moretti residence, dead people were treated like locked rooms.
You learned quickly which doors not to touch.
I knew Bianca’s portrait hung in Vincent’s private study.
I knew she had dark hair, elegant shoulders and eyes that looked amused even in formal photographs.
I knew Enzo had her mouth.
And I knew nobody mentioned the car accident.
“Your wife’s medication?” I whispered.
Vincent’s expression closed.
“Yes.”
“But she died before I started working for you.”
“Correct.”
“Then how did it get into my locker?”
“That is the question keeping several people employed tonight.”
He turned away.
Lily stirred against me.
Vincent lowered his voice.
“Cassandra was Bianca’s half-sister.”
That surprised me less than it should have.
Same last name.
Same aristocratic posture.
Same expensive stillness.
But there was nothing warm in Cassandra that resembled the woman in Vincent’s photographs.
“They shared a father,” he continued. “Different mothers. Different childhoods.”
“Were they close?”
Vincent gave a humorless smile.
“Cassandra would say yes.”
“And Bianca?”
“She would have laughed.”
He sat down for the first time.
“My wife did not trust easily.”
“Did she trust Cassandra?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
I watched him.
“You already suspected something.”
His eyes sharpened.
“I suspected Cassandra wanted access to the Vale trust.”
“What trust?”
He hesitated.
Then perhaps remembered that somebody had already tried to put an infant into respiratory arrest and frame me for it.
“Bianca inherited shares in Vale Maritime when her father died. After Bianca’s death, those shares went into trust for Enzo.”
“How much?”
“Forty-one percent.”
Even I understood what that meant.
Not money.
Control.
“Who manages it?”
“I do until Enzo is twenty-five.”
“Then what does Cassandra gain?”
“If I am declared unfit, a court can appoint another guardian.”
Everything inside me went still.
“Cassandra.”
“She is Enzo’s closest maternal relative.”
I stared at him.
A crying baby.
Missing feeds.
False medical records.
A father repeatedly told his son was too tired to see him.
Slow weight loss.
Sedation.
Not necessarily enough to kill.
Enough to make him look neglected.
“You said Enzo lost weight.”
Vincent nodded.
“What if this wasn’t supposed to kill him?”
His eyes lifted.
“What if it was supposed to make him sick?”
He said nothing.
I continued.
“If someone wanted records showing failure to thrive, excessive sleep, missed developmental milestones…”
“Then they could argue the household was unsafe.”
“And if the nanny’s notes blamed your absences…”
Vincent stood so quickly the chair struck the wall.
I jumped.
Lily opened her eyes.
“Mommy?”
“I’m okay.”
Vincent stepped away immediately.
“Sorry.”
That one word told me something about him the newspapers never could.
He could control himself.
He just rarely needed to explain why.
His phone rang.
Marco.
Vincent answered.
“Talk.”
I heard only fragments.
Office.
Computer.
Deleted folder.
Petition.
Vincent’s face changed.
“Send it to me.”
He hung up.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Someone drafted a guardianship petition.”
I felt sick.
“Against you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
That was almost exactly when Enzo’s weight loss began.
“Who drafted it?”
“Vale family counsel.”
“Cassandra?”
“The petition names her as proposed emergency guardian.”
There it was.
Not proof of poisoning.
But motive standing in the doorway wearing white silk.
Vincent looked at Lily.
“Do you have somewhere else to stay?”
The question hurt more than I expected.
“Yes.”
It was a lie.
My sister had a studio apartment in Astoria with a roommate and two cats. My former landlord still hated me for breaking a lease after my husband died. A budget hotel would take half my weekly pay in two nights.
But I was not staying in that house.
Vincent understood my answer anyway.
“No.”
I stiffened.
“That wasn’t a request.”
My fear turned to anger.
“I work for you, Mr. Moretti. I am not property.”
His expression changed.
“Fair.”
The immediate concession disarmed me.
He tried again.
“Someone drugged you and tried to frame you for harming my son. Your daughter witnessed part of it. Until I know who is involved, leaving without protection would be dangerous.”
“I don’t want Lily around armed men.”
“I don’t want her around people willing to drug children.”
That landed.
He glanced at Lily.
Then back at me.
“I have a townhouse in Brooklyn Heights owned through a company Cassandra does not know about. No household staff. Two female security officers can stay outside. You and Lily would have the inside to yourselves.”
“Why are you doing this?”
His eyes went to my daughter.
“Because yours fed mine while every adult around him failed.”
Lily had fallen asleep again.
I looked down at her messy hair.
Three years old.
Too little to understand betrayal.
Old enough to notice a baby crying.
“I’ll go.”
Vincent nodded.
Then he reached into his jacket and placed a small object on the bed.
A USB drive.
“What is that?”
“Something security recovered from the nursery office.”
“From Norah?”
“From behind the back panel of her desk.”
I did not touch it.
“What’s on it?”
“We don’t know yet. It is encrypted.”
A knock came.
Marco entered.
He was broad, fortyish, calm, and looked like a man who checked exits before faces.
He handed Vincent a tablet.
“We recovered deleted camera metadata.”
“Video?”
“Partial.”
Vincent opened the file.
The hospital room filled with silent grayscale footage.
Timestamp: 8:17 a.m.
Nursery hallway.
Norah walked out carrying her purse.
8:19.
Mrs. Hargrove entered the pantry.
8:23.
I crossed the hallway with three bottles.
8:27.
I left.
8:30.
Nobody.
8:31.
A figure appeared.
Cassandra.
Even in black-and-white, the white dress was unmistakable.
She approached the nursery office.
Looked behind her.
Entered.
The video glitched.
Then skipped to 8:38.
Cassandra came out.
No gloves.
Something small was in her hand.
She slid it into her purse.
The screen froze.
“That was when I was in the kitchen,” I whispered.
Marco nodded.
“Approximately.”
“Can you see what she took?”
“No.”
Vincent rewound.
Again.
Again.
On the fourth viewing I noticed something.
“Stop.”
He did.
“Go back two seconds.”
Cassandra turned toward the camera.
Something hung from her wrist.
Not jewelry.
A thin dark strip.
“Zoom.”
Marco enlarged the image.
Pixels blurred.
But the shape remained.
Fabric.
A narrow strip.
Vincent looked at me.
“Red?”
“I can’t tell.”
Neither could he.
Then my hospital-room door opened.
A nurse stepped inside.
“Sofia Hale?”
“Yes.”
“I have the preliminary toxicology results from your bloodwork.”
Vincent rose.
The nurse looked uncertainly at him.
“You can speak in front of him.”
She checked the chart.
“You tested positive for the same class of sedative found in the baby bottle.”
My fingers tightened around the blanket.
“How much?”
“Enough to explain the loss of consciousness.”
Vincent went completely still.
The nurse continued.
“There’s something else.”
My heart thudded.
“You also tested positive for a second medication. A cardiac drug.”
“I don’t take heart medication.”
“I know.”
She looked genuinely concerned.
“The concentration was low, but repeated exposure can cause dizziness, fainting and abnormal rhythm.”
Repeated.
Not one cup of tea.
Repeated exposure.
My mind moved backward.
Morning coffee.
Headaches.
Nausea.
The strange weakness I had blamed on extra shifts.
I looked at Vincent.
His face told me he had reached the same conclusion.
Someone had not decided to drug me that morning.
Someone had been doing it for days.
Maybe weeks.
“Why?” I whispered.
Marco’s phone buzzed.
He read the message.
Then looked at Vincent.
“Sir, the encrypted drive just opened.”
Vincent took the phone.
His expression hardened.
“What’s on it?”
Marco swallowed.
“Audio recordings.”
“Whose?”
“Bianca’s.”
The dead woman’s voice filled the room seconds later.
Soft.
Breathless.
Afraid.
“If anything happens to me, Vincent needs to know Cassandra has been inside the nursery accounts again.”
Vincent turned white.
Then Bianca said something else.
May you like
Something that made him grab the edge of the table.
“And if she ever gets near my baby, look for the red ribbon.”
