Chapter 4 - The Sugar Pills
The kitchen descended into absolute, suffocating chaos.
Vanessa stared at the gold pocket watch on the counter as if it were a venomous snake. The arrogant, untouchable smirk finally vanished from her face, replaced by raw, unfiltered panic. The Bellini crest gleamed under the harsh lights, a solid confession of murder left behind four years ago.
“That’s impossible,” Vanessa stammered, taking a clumsy step backward, her high heel catching on the tile. “My father would never be so careless. You bought that. You had it engraved to frame him!”
“Frame him?” Luca’s voice was a low, terrifying rumble. He stepped between Vanessa and his mother, shielding Teresa entirely. “My father signed a peace treaty with Carlo the week before he died. We gave up the Southside ports for that peace. And he slaughtered my father anyway?”
“Luca, listen to me,” Vanessa pleaded, suddenly reaching for his arm.
He violently shrugged her off. “Don't touch me.”
“He didn't do it! I swear to you, Carlo wouldn't risk an all-out war over a grudge!”
“He didn't risk a war because he thought there were no witnesses,” Teresa said, her voice shaking with adrenaline. “He thought David and my husband were the only ones on that road. He didn't know David’s wife was walking back from the grocery store in the rain, pushing a stroller. He didn't know a little boy saw the car.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. I remembered the headlights cutting through the rain. The sickening crunch of metal. I had thrown myself over Leo’s stroller into the wet grass. I had seen the men step out of the black SUV. But it was so dark. I had never seen their faces.
But I had found the pocket watch in the mud when I crawled to my husband's bleeding body. I had kept it hidden, too terrified to take it to the corrupt police.
“When I came to work here,” I whispered, staring at Teresa, “I brought the watch in my purse. I dropped it in the laundry room on my third day. I thought I lost it forever.”
“I found it,” Teresa said gently to me. “I recognized Carlo’s crest immediately. I knew exactly who you were, Hannah. And I knew that if Carlo ever found out you and that little boy existed, he would hunt you down to tie up loose ends.”
Luca turned to his security chief, a massive, silent man named Marco who had materialized in the doorway.
“Lock down the estate,” Luca ordered. “No one leaves. No one enters. Confiscate all cell phones from the guests.”
Marco nodded once and vanished.
Vanessa’s chest heaved. “You can’t hold me here! I am a Bellini! If I don't walk out those front doors in five minutes, my father will send an army to burn this house to the ground!”
“Let him try,” Luca said coldly. “Take her to the wine cellar. Lock the door. If she screams, gag her.”
Two guards stepped forward, grabbing Vanessa by the arms. For a moment, she fought like a wildcat, kicking and cursing, her designer gown tearing at the seam. But they dragged her backward through the kitchen, her screams echoing down the stone corridor until the heavy oak door of the cellar slammed shut.
Silence fell over the kitchen again. The catering staff had completely evacuated.
Luca turned to me, his eyes filled with a heavy, profound sorrow.
“Hannah. I cannot ask for your forgiveness. But I am asking for your trust, just for tonight. You need to call whoever is watching your son. Have Marco send an armored car to pick them up immediately. Carlo Bellini is going to realize Vanessa is being held, and he will look for leverage.”
I didn't hesitate. I pulled out my phone and dialed my mother’s number. She was recovering from gallbladder surgery at our tiny apartment, watching Leo.
“Mom? Pack a bag for Leo. Only the essentials. A car is coming to get you in ten minutes.”
Once the call was made, the adrenaline that had kept Teresa standing suddenly vanished. She swayed, her hand flying to her chest as she gasped for air.
“Mom!” Luca caught her before she hit the floor.
“My medicine,” Teresa wheezed, her face turning a terrifying shade of gray. “Hannah… my pills. On my nightstand.”
“I’ll get them!” I yelled, hiking up the skirt of my uniform and sprinting out of the kitchen.
I took the grand staircase two steps at a time, racing down the east wing corridor toward Teresa’s master bedroom. My heart pounded in my ears. If she had a heart attack now, in the middle of a mafia lockdown, an ambulance would never make it through the gates in time.
I threw open the door to her bedroom and rushed to the antique mahogany nightstand.
Her orange prescription bottle was there.
I grabbed it, twisted the childproof cap off, and poured the contents into my palm.
I froze.
I had been administering Teresa’s medication for eleven months. Her heart pills were small, chalky, and pale blue.
The pills in my hand were perfectly round, glossy, and bright white.
I brought them to my nose. They smelled faintly of peppermint.
They were mints. Someone had emptied her prescription bottle and filled it with breath mints.
Panic seized me. I dropped the bottle and frantically searched the drawers. Nothing. I ran into her en-suite bathroom, tearing open the medicine cabinet. Bandages, cough syrup, face cream. No blue pills.
Someone had intentionally sabotaged her medication. Someone wanted her to suffer a fatal heart attack tonight.
As I backed out of the bathroom, my foot crunched on something hard.
I looked down at the expensive Persian rug.
There, half-hidden beneath the fringe of the carpet, was a small, empty glass vial.
May you like
But it wasn't the vial that made my blood run cold. It was the object sitting neatly on the center of Teresa’s freshly made bed.
It was a perfectly tied, black silk mourning ribbon.
