Chapter 4 - The Poisoned Table
The formal dining room of the Romano estate looked like something out of a European museum—high vaulted ceilings, oak paneling, and a massive mahogany table laid with sterling silver and fine china.
At 8:00 AM, the three primary suspects were seated around the table, casually sipping mimosa cocktails and eating pastries, acting as if nothing had happened during the storm.
I walked in behind Alessio, wearing a simple black professional dress, carrying Leo in a soft navy baby sling against my chest.
“Alessio, darling!” Aunt Beatrice exclaimed, setting down her teacup. She was a woman in her late fifties, impeccably dressed in a silk blouse, her fingers adorned with diamond rings. “We were so worried! The staff said the security team locked down the perimeter last night!”
“A minor electrical glitch during the thunderstorm, Aunt Beatrice,” Alessio replied smoothly, taking his seat at the head of the table. He pulled out the chair to his immediate right. “Clara, sit here.”
The gesture did not go unnoticed. Cousin Julian—a sharp-featured man in his late thirties with slicked-back hair and a custom-tailored suit—eyebrow raised as he evaluated me.
“A night nurse at the breakfast table, Alessio?” Julian mocked lightly, spreading butter onto a scone. “Since when do the help dine with the family?”
“Since Clara saved Leo from a high fever last night, Julian,” Alessio said, his tone laced with razor-sharp authority. “She has my full confidence. Which means she has a seat at my table.”
Across from me sat Marcus Vance—Isabella’s stepbrother. He was younger, perhaps thirty-two, with nervous blue eyes, pale skin, and a habit of incessantly picking at the leather strap of his luxury wristwatch.
“Is the baby alright?” Marcus asked, his voice slightly tight as his eyes darted toward the sling where Leo lay sleeping. “Fev—fevers can be dangerous in infants.”
“He’s recovering well,” I replied directly, watching Marcus’s hands.
Marcus’s left index finger was wrapped in a fresh white adhesive bandage.
I leaned in slightly, keeping my voice sweet and professional. “Did you cut yourself, Mr. Vance?”
Marcus instantly pulled his left hand beneath the table, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Oh... yes. A minor accident with a cigar cutter in the study last night. Nothing serious.”
My mind raced. The blue enamel bead found in Leo’s throat had a narrow groove across its center—a groove made by a sharp, metallic tool like a pliers or a heavy wire cutter. If someone had been altering or detaching the bead from a custom jewelry piece, a slipping tool could easily slice a finger.
I glanced over at Aunt Beatrice. Her hands were elegantly manicured, but as she lifted her coffee cup, I noticed something else: around her wrist was a vintage charm bracelet made of silver filigree and small blue enamel ornaments.
One of the dangling charms was noticeably missing its lower bead.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Both Marcus and Beatrice had physical anomalies linking them directly to the weapon used against Leo.
“Alessio,” Julian spoke up, cutting through the silence. “We need to discuss the board vote on Friday regarding the port logistics contract. With Isabella gone, her trust shares need to be represented by a proxy. As her brother, Marcus believes—”
“Marcus is not an heir to the Romano logistics firm,” Alessio interrupted coldly, cutting his steak with precise, surgical efficiency. “And my wife’s trust shares are held in reserve for Leo until he reaches maturity. End of discussion.”
“Unless the child fails to reach maturity,” Julian remarked casually, taking a sip of his mimosa.
The entire dining room went dead silent. The air grew so cold you could see your breath.
May you like
Alessio laid his knife and fork down on his plate with a soft, ominous clatter. He looked across the table at his cousin with eyes that could cut through steel.
“What did you just say, Julian?”
