Chapter 5 - The Poisoner's Trap
The air inside the surveillance room grew instantly heavy as Claire opened her bag and retrieved the plastic bag containing the crumbling blue pills.
“It’s a counterfeit compound,” Claire explained, holding it up under the fluorescent lighting of the control desk. “They’re mimicking his blood pressure medication, but the binding agent is wrong. If I had to guess without a mass spectrometer, it’s a mixture of powdered chalk and low-dose digitoxin—a digitalis glycoside derived from foxglove.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed into slits of pure, lethal rage. “Digitalis?”
“In controlled doses, it treats heart failure,” Claire said, her clinical instincts taking over. “In uncontrolled doses given to a recovering stroke patient, it causes slow, cumulative cardiac arrest. It wouldn't show up on a standard toxicology screen as murder. The coroner would simply rule it a secondary heart failure caused by his advanced age and stroke.”
Dominic looked back at the monitor screen, where the video frozen on Raymond DeLuca’s subtle hand movement during dinner.
“Raymond has been my father’s consigliere for thirty years,” Dominic said, his voice dropping an octave into something terrifyingly quiet. “My father gave him a home, a salary, and a seat at our table.”
“Why would Raymond plant a vial in your sister’s pocket?” Claire asked, connecting the dots. “If Raymond is the one poisoning Victor, why frame Sophia?”
“Because Sophia has been vocal about changing my father’s will,” Dominic explained, his mind calculating every layer of the betrayal. “If my father dies of a 'heart attack,' and an autopsy reveals digitalis, an anonymous tip leads the police to the vial in Sophia’s jacket. Sophia goes to prison for patricide. I get dragged into a federal investigation as an accomplice. And Raymond... as the designated trustee of the Moretti family legacy fund... takes control of two hundred million dollars in non-monitored offshore assets.”
Claire felt a cold shiver run down her spine. The sheer ruthlessness of the plot was staggering.
“What are you going to do?” Claire asked.
Dominic turned to her. The dark, cold killer was there, but beneath it, Claire saw something else—a man fiercely desperate to protect the last remaining pieces of his broken family.
“I’m going to kill him,” Dominic said flatly.
“No!” Claire snapped, instinctively placing her hand on Dominic’s forearm.
Dominic froze at her touch. He looked down at her small, soft hand resting against the sleeve of his expensive suit. No one touched Dominic Moretti like that. Ever.
“If you kill Raymond now,” Claire argued urgently, refusing to let go, “you give him exactly what he wants. He has partners outside this estate. If he disappears, his associates will release whatever evidence they've fabricated against your family. You need proof. You need to catch him in the act of swapping the medication.”
Dominic looked from her hand up to her eyes. “How do you propose we do that, Nurse Donovan?”
“Tonight,” Claire said, her brain working rapidly. “Raymond thinks Victor took the fake pill this morning. By six o'clock tonight, Victor needs to 'suffer' a sudden cardiac episode. We call Dr. Mercer. We let Raymond think his plan is working. When Raymond goes to Victor’s room to swap the remaining pills out to cover his tracks before the paramedics arrive... we catch him on camera.”
Dominic stared at her for five long seconds.
A slow, dark smile crept across his handsome face—the first real smile Claire had seen on him.
“You have a terrifying mind for an ER nurse, Claire,” Dominic murmured, his voice rich and deep.
“Emergency rooms are full of people trying to kill themselves,” Claire replied dryly, pulling her hand back, her skin still tingling where she had touched him. “You learn how sneaky people can be.”
Dominic stepped closer, leaning down slightly so his dark eyes were level with hers.
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“If we do this, you are in danger,” Dominic warned softly. “Once Raymond realizes he’s trapped, he will become desperate. I won't be able to protect you every second.”
Claire squared her shoulders, looking the feared mob boss dead in the eye. “I didn't quit when your father threw a glass at my head, Dominic. I’m certainly not quitting on him now.”
