Chapter 4 - The Poisoner's Shadow
The kitchen fell into a suffocating silence. Enzo, Marco, and Lev all froze, their eyes shifting nervously between Vincent and Norah.
Testing food for poison was standard mob protocol, but forcing the new cook to eat her own creation right in front of him carried a cruel, psychological weight. It was a test of nerve as much as safety.
Norah didn't flinch. She understood his paranoia. If she had been forced to vomit blood for eight weeks because someone slipped poison into her coffee, she wouldn't trust her own shadow either.
Without saying a word, Norah picked up a silver fork from the tray. She cut off a generous portion of the soft scrambled egg and toasted sourdough, brought it to her mouth, and chewed slowly.
Vincent’s gaze remained locked on her face, watching her throat swallow, looking for any micro-expression of hesitation, guilt, or fear. He waited ten long seconds.
Norah met his gaze evenly. "It's good," she said softly. "The salt is right."
Vincent pulled out a high-backed stainless-steel stool from the prep counter and sat down directly across from her. He reached out with his thin, long fingers and pulled the plate toward himself.
He picked up his fork. His hand still suffered from a slight tremor—a residual effect of the nerve damage caused by the heavy metals—but it was steady enough to lift the food.
He placed a small bite of the egg into his mouth.
Norah held her breath.
Vincent chewed slowly. The delicate texture of the soft eggs dissolved almost instantly on his tongue, carrying the rich, creamy flavor of fresh butter and salt without any heavy, greasy residue. There was no sharp acid, no overwhelming spice to shock his hyper-sensitive palate.
He swallowed.
He waited for the familiar, agonizing spasm in his esophagus. He waited for his brain to scream that he was consuming venom.
Nothing happened.
A subtle, profound wave of relief washed over Vincent's gaunt features. He took another bite, then a third, combining the soft egg with the crisp, tangy sourdough toast. Within three minutes, the plate was completely clean. He drank half the cup of warm chamomile tea, letting the honey soothe his throat.
Enzo let out a long breath he seemed to have been holding since yesterday. "Jesus," he whispered under his breath.
Vincent set his fork down with a quiet click against the porcelain. He looked up at Norah, his dark eyes intense, searching.
"Why water?" Vincent asked unexpectedly.
Norah blinked. "What?"
"In the eggs," Vincent said. "I saw you add water before you whisked them. Most chefs use milk or heavy cream."
"Milk burns easily and makes the eggs heavy," Norah explained gently. "Cream coats the stomach in fat, which makes your liver work harder. Cold water creates steam when it hits the warm pan. It makes the eggs light, soft, and easy to digest."
Vincent stared at her for a moment, then leaned back on his stool. "You're smart."
"I'm just practical, Mr. Rossy," Norah replied, wiping down her prep station with a damp towel. "Food is medicine. If the medicine tastes like punishment, the patient stops taking it."
A ghost of a smile touched the corner of Vincent’s mouth—a rare, fleeting glimpse of the handsome, powerful man he had been before the poisoning stripped him of his health.
"Enzo," Vincent called out, his tone returning to its sharp, commanding tone. "Call a meeting of the kapos for one o'clock in the executive dining room."
Enzo looked stunned. "Boss... you haven't held a kapo meeting in person since the hospital. The doctor said—"
"The doctor doesn't know what he's talking about," Vincent interrupted, standing up smoothly. For the first time in six months, he didn't grab the counter to steady himself against dizziness. "Tell them I will be presiding over the table. And tell the kitchen... Miss Bennett will be preparing lunch for the entire board."
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Norah’s head snapped up. "Wait! Lunch for who?"
"My senior lieutenants," Vincent said, turning to face her. "Seven men who control the docks, the unions, and the construction syndicates. One of them paid for the poison that put me in an ICU. I want to see which one loses his appetite when he sees me eating your food."
