Chapter 5 - The Snake in the House
The realization that an insider had attempted to murder Filomena hung over the Ambrosi estate like a suffocating fog.
Marin spent the next three days establishing a rigid medical routine for Filomena, but her mind was constantly scanning the house. The staff consisted of thirty people: housekeepers, chefs, private security guards, drivers, and maintenance crews. Many of them had worked for the family for decades.
Raphael didn't trust a single one of them anymore.
He replaced the internal security detail with a private tactical team brought in from out of state—men who answered directly to him and had zero ties to Chicago. He limited access to Filomena’s wing to only three people: himself, Filomena’s long-time head housekeeper, Maria, and Marin.
On Tuesday evening, while Filomena was sleeping, Marin was in the private medical kitchen prepping Filomena’s evening medications. The kitchen was small, immaculate, and connected directly to the west wing suite.
The door clicked open softly behind her.
Marin turned quickly, her hand instinctively dropping to the heavy stainless-steel tray on the counter.
It was Victor Ambrosi—Raphael’s uncle.
Victor was fifty-five, lean, with slicked-back graying hair, sharp blue eyes, and an expensive tailored suit that mirrored Raphael’s style, though he lacked his nephew’s absolute command. Victor was the vice-president of Ambrosi Holdings, overseeing the international shipping divisions.
“Ah, Nurse Sloan,” Victor said, offering a warm, practiced smile as he stepped into the room. “I didn't mean to startle you.”
“Mr. Ambrosi,” Marin said, keeping her voice neutral and professional. “Can I help you with something? Mrs. Ambrosi is sleeping.”
“I just came to check on my mother,” Victor said, walking toward the counter. He looked at the pill organizers and the blood pressure logs Marin had laid out. “Raphael has turned this wing into a maximum-security prison. It’s nearly impossible for her own family to see her.”
“Mr. Ambrosi’s priority is her safety and recovery,” Marin replied, moving slightly to block his view of the medication schedule.
Victor smiled, though the warmth didn't reach his eyes. “Of course. My nephew is very protective. Sometimes… overly paranoid. But I suppose we owe you a great debt, Miss Sloan. Pulling my mother from that water… remarkable. Quite a miracle for a girl who was sleeping in her car last week.”
Marin’s posture went rigid. “My personal life isn't relevant to my patient’s care.”
“No, no, of course not,” Victor said smoothly, leaning against the counter. He pulled a gold cigarette case from his pocket, tapped it against his palm, then remembered where he was and put it back. “I only mean to say… you’ve stepped into a very complicated house, Marin. My mother is an old woman. Her mind is going. She says things… dark things… that aren't real. Accusations. Memories that belong in the grave.”
He took a step closer to her. Marin didn't back down; she met his gaze firmly.
“Sometimes,” Victor whispered, “people who don't understand the history of this family take those wandering words too seriously. It can be… dangerous for an outsider.”
“My job isn't to judge her memories, Mr. Ambrosi,” Marin said, her voice dropping into a cold, hard line. “My job is to keep her heart beating. And as long as I am her nurse, no one touches her without my permission.”
Victor stared at her for three long seconds. The warm smile completely vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, calculating look that sent a chill down Marin’s spine.
Then, he glanced down at his right hand.
He adjusted his golden cufflink. But on his pinky finger sat a thick, vintage signet ring made of tarnished silver.
Engraved on the surface was the sharp, detailed head of a howling wolf.
Marin’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She kept her face completely devoid of emotion, forcing herself not to look directly at the ring.
“Well,” Victor said softly, turning toward the door. “Good night, Nurse Sloan. Don't work too hard. Chicago winters can be very unforgiving to people who stay out in the cold.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
Marin stood alone in the kitchen, her breath ragged.
The silver ring.
May you like
She immediately picked up the internal house phone, dialed Raphael’s private line, and spoke three words:
“Come up. Now.”
