Chapter 4 - The Poisoner's Web
Word Count: ~1,500 words
They burst into Estelle’s bedchamber to find two house doctors huddled over the bed.
Estelle lay pale and unresponsive against the white silk pillows, her breathing shallow and ragged. On the bedside table sat a half-empty glass of warm milk—the same routine drink she took every night before sleep.
“What happened to her?!” Leandro demanded, shoving his way past the medical team to grab his mother’s cold hand.
“She’s suffered a sudden respiratory collapse, Don Leandro,” the head physician reported nervously, his hands shaking as he adjusted an oxygen mask over Estelle’s face. “Her heart rate is dropping dangerously. It looks like acute chemical toxicity.”
Daphne walked directly to the bedside table, picking up the glass of milk. She smelled it carefully—a faint, bitter almond scent lingered beneath the cream.
“Cyanide derivative,” Daphne said, her voice dropping to a dangerous register. “Micro-dosed. Not enough to kill her instantly, but enough to put her into a coma before tomorrow’s council meeting.”
Leandro turned his head, his dark eyes burning with a terrifying, apocalyptic rage. “Maribel.”
“She knew Estelle was your moral compass,” Daphne realized, her mind working at lighting speed. “With Estelle incapacitated, you would either cancel the council meeting—which defaults the voting seats to Maribel—or you would launch an unprovoked attack on her faction, proving to the syndicate that you’re an unstable leader.”
“Marco!” Leandro roared, his voice echoing through the mansion corridors.
Marco stepped into the doorway, his weapon drawn. “Boss?”
“Lock down every door in this house,” Leandro commanded, his voice trembling with deadly intent. “Nobody leaves. Nobody talks to the outside world. If Maribel tries to step foot outside her pavilion, put a bullet in her knee.”
“Wait, Leandro,” Daphne interrupted, standing between him and the door. “If you do that, Maribel’s allies on the council will receive an automated distress signal. They have an emergency proxy protocol—if Maribel is detained without a formal charge backed by evidence, the council automatically strips the Don of his executive command.”
“She poisoned my mother!” Leandro shouted, stepping into Daphne’s space, his chest heaving. “I don't care about the charter, Daphne! I care about my mother!”
“And your mother cared about keeping you on that throne!” Daphne shouted back, grabbing his lapels and forcing him to look at her. “Look at me, Leandro! Look at me!”
Leandro locked eyes with her, his ragged breathing slowly evening out under her gaze.
“If you lose the Don’s seat tomorrow, Maribel wins,” Daphne said softly, her thumb caressing his cheek. “She will take control of the family, and your mother won't be safe in any hospital on earth. We have to beat her at her own game. We save Estelle, and we destroy Maribel legally within the charter.”
Leandro closed his eyes for three long seconds, absorbing her words. When he opened them, the raw panic was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating brilliance.
He looked at the head physician. “Can you stabilize her?”
“We have the antidote compound in the estate clinic,” the doctor stammered. “If we administer it now, she will flush the toxin out within twelve hours. But she won't be awake until tomorrow evening.”
“Stabilize her,” Leandro ordered. “Marco, assign four of our most trusted men to guard this room. Nobody enters except Daphne and the doctor.”
Leandro turned back to Daphne. “We have ten hours before the council convenes at noon. Upstate New York is a three-hour drive. We find Julian Vance, get the accounting records, and get back here before Maribel can claim the vote.”
“I’m coming with you,” Daphne said.
“No, it’s too dangerous—”
“You need someone to verify Vance’s ledgers while you drive,” Daphne insisted, taking his hand tightly. “We do this together, Leandro. All the way.”
Leandro looked down at their joined hands, a rare, breathtaking smile touching his lips amidst the darkness of the night.
May you like
“All the way,” he agreed.
Ten minutes later, a heavy black sedan sped out of the estate’s rear gate, vanishing into the rainy dark of the highway, racing against time to save an empire.
