Chapter 6 - The Digoxin Test
The forty-five minutes that followed were the longest of Nia’s life.
Dr. Keller worked with frantic, obsessive speed. He drew three vials of dark blood from Matteo’s frail arm, then took a sample of the liquid from the teacup and a pinch of the crushed leaves from the silver canister. He sprinted down to his mobile laboratory van parked in the courtyard, escorted by two armed guards.
Inside the master suite, the air was suffocating.
Enzo stood by the heavy glass balcony doors, staring out at the torrential rain. He held an unlit cigarette between his fingers, his jaw set so tight a muscle twitched continuously in his cheek.
Nia stood near the foot of the bed, her hands folded neatly in front of her gray dress. She didn't sit down. She didn't complain. She kept her eyes on Matteo Costa.
The mob boss looked worse by the minute. His breathing was becoming increasingly labored—a wet, shallow gasp every few seconds. The heart monitor registered his pulse at a terrifying 28 beats per minute. He was slipping into a fatal cardiac arrest right before their eyes.
"If he dies before Keller gets back..." Enzo grunted without turning around, "...it won't matter what the test says."
"He needs Digibind," Nia said softly. "And an intravenous line of atropine and potassium to stabilize his cell pumps."
Enzo turned his head, staring at her through the dim light of the room. "You talk awful smart for a girl who cleans baseboards."
"My grandmother raised me," Nia replied simply. "She was an herbalist in Oregon. She knew every plant that could cure a person, and every plant that could put a man in the ground."
Enzo let out a low, humorless grunt. "Your grandmother sound like a dangerous woman."
"She was an honest woman," Nia corrected gently. "She hated cowards who used poison."
Before Enzo could respond, the oak doors flew open.
Dr. Keller burst into the room, out of breath, his hair messy, holding a sheaf of printed thermal paper readouts from his portable analyzer. His face was a mix of absolute horror and profound medical awe.
"It’s positive!" Keller shouted, his voice cracking. "My God, it’s positive!"
Enzo took two long strides toward the doctor, snatching the paper from his hands. "Speak English, Keller!"
"His blood digoxin level is eight point four nanograms per milliliter!" Keller yelled, pointing at the numbers on the printout. "Anything over two is toxic! Eight is practically fatal! And the tea—the tea canister is packed with concentrated, dried Digitalis purpurea leaves!"
Enzo stared at the printout. He couldn't read the complex chemical markers, but he saw the big red CRITICAL HIGH printed next to the digoxin line.
The proof was absolute. Flawless. Undeniable.
Carlo Costa had been poisoning his own cousin every single day.
"Give him the antidote!" Enzo roared, grabbing Keller by the lapels of his coat. "Fix him!"
"I brought it up!" Keller stumbled toward the bed, pulling a sterile glass vial of Digibind from his medical kit. He snapped the glass top, drew the clear fluid into a large syringe, and injected it directly into Matteo’s IV line. "It will bind to the toxin in his tissue. It takes time, but it will pull his heart back!"
Enzo turned around slowly. His face was no longer just angry; it was transformed by a dark, cold, terrifying hatred.
He looked at Nia.
For the first time, the terrifying underboss bowed his head slightly toward the young maid in the gray cotton dress.
"You were right," Enzo said softly. "You saved him."
Nia let out a long, shaky breath, her eyes filling with sudden, overwhelming tears of relief. The weight of the secret she had carried for forty-eight hours finally lifted off her shoulders.
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Enzo pulled a heavy silver radio from his belt and clicked the button.
"Marco," Enzo spoke into the mic, his voice smooth, calm, and dripping with murder. "Bring Carlo to the wine cellar. Tie him to the pillar. I'm coming down."
