Chapter 5 - The Snake at the Feast
The estate was flooded with cars by four o'clock the next afternoon. High-ranking business associates, politicians, and distant Moretti relatives dressed in formal black attire gathered in the main ballroom to pay their respects to Isabella.
I remained upstairs in the nursery suite, nursing Anthony while Lucia slept. I wore a modest black knee-length dress Gabriel had provided, my hair pulled back neatly.
A light knock sounded at the door. Before I could answer, Julianna stepped inside.
She wore a breathtaking black lace gown, her makeup flawless, holding a small crystal glass filled with dark red juice.
“Still up here in the dark, Emma?” Julianna asked, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness as she shut the door behind her. “The entire family is downstairs. You should come down and get a plate of food.”
“I’m fine here with the babies, Miss Moretti,” I replied calmly, keeping my posture relaxed.
Julianna glided across the room, stopping near the mahogany rocking chair. She looked down at Anthony, her lip curling slightly before she masked it with a sigh.
“It’s tragic, really,” Julianna murmured, taking a slow sip from her glass. “Isabella worked so hard to conceive. And then to die during delivery... leaving poor Gabriel all alone with two helpless infants.”
“He isn't alone,” I said. “He has his family.”
Julianna gave a soft, bitter laugh. “Family? Gabriel doesn't trust anyone. He thinks he’s invincible, but he’s blind.” She leaned closer, her expensive perfume choking the air. “You know, Emma... wet nurses are temporary. Once these children are weaned on solid food in a few months, Gabriel will throw a fat check at you and send you right back to your little apartment in Queens.”
“I’m here to do a job, Miss Moretti,” I said, looking her straight in the eyes. “Not to build a career.”
Julianna set her crystal glass down on the nightstand next to the babies' sterile bottles. “Just making sure you understand your place. A motherless child is a sad thing... but a child with too many mothers is dangerous.”
She smiled, patted my shoulder with cold fingers, and walked out of the room.
The moment the door closed, I stood up, holding Anthony tightly. I walked over to the nightstand and looked at the crystal glass Julianna had set down.
Near the rim of her glass, a microscopic drop of clear oil floated on the surface of the dark juice.
Beside it lay the sterile nipple of Anthony’s water bottle, which Julianna’s sleeve had brushed against when she leaned over.
My heart thudded against my ribs. I picked up the sterile bottle using a clean washcloth, stepped into the bathroom, and sealed it in a ziplock plastic bag.
Ten minutes later, Gabriel walked into the nursery, looking tired and grim from hours of entertaining fake condolences.
“Gabriel,” I whispered, stepping toward him.
He stopped, noticing the pale horror on my face. “What happened?”
I handed him the sealed ziplock bag. “Julianna was just in here. She left her drink on the stand and touched the extra water bottles. I think she just tried to poison them again right in front of me.”
Gabriel took the bag, his knuckles turning chalk-white.
“Vance!” Gabriel roared toward the hallway.
Vance appeared in the doorway three seconds later. Gabriel tossed him the bag. “Take this to the lab immediately. Fast-track the results.”
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Gabriel then turned to me, his dark eyes ablaze with an explosive mixture of fury and protective instinct. He reached out, taking my hands in his.
“She thinks you're weak because you're grieving,” Gabriel growled, his voice trembling with dark emotion. “She has no idea who she’s playing with.”
