Chapter 3 - THE BLUE PILL
The old man’s terror was palpable.
Nicholas’s frail body actually jerked in the wheelchair, a frantic, uncoordinated spasm of fear. His eyes were locked on the unmarked blue pill in Vincent’s hand, pleading with his son.
“Dad,” Vincent said gently, stepping closer. “Dad, calm down. It’s okay.”
But Nicholas wouldn't calm down. He kept making that awful, strained noise in his throat, his gaze darting between the pill and Sophie.
“Mr. Nicholas,” Sophie whispered, rushing to the other side of his wheelchair. She took his trembling hand. “It’s alright. No one is going to make you take it.”
At her words, the old man’s breathing slowed marginally. He squeezed her fingers with surprising strength.
Vincent watched the exchange, his dark eyes missing nothing.
He looked at the pill again.
“Matteo!” Vincent barked toward the open doorway.
The massive bodyguard appeared instantly. “Boss.”
“Take this,” Vincent ordered, dropping the blue pill into Matteo’s massive palm. “Get it to our private lab in the city. I want a full chemical breakdown. And I want it an hour ago.”
“On it,” Matteo said, turning on his heel.
Vincent turned back to Sophie. His expression was a terrifying mix of gratitude and lethal intent.
“You said Mrs. Hargrove locked his medical file in her office?”
“Yes, sir,” Sophie answered, her hand resting protectively over her pregnant belly. “She was very strict about it. She said the nurses she hired were the only ones allowed to review his chart.”
“What nurses?”
“Two women, sir. They come twice a week. Mrs. Hargrove said they were specialists.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“We’re going to her office,” he said. “Now.”
Sophie followed Vincent down the grand marble staircase. The mansion felt different now. The oppressive, cold atmosphere Mrs. Hargrove had cultivated was shattered, replaced by the dangerous, charged energy of the Bellini empire.
They reached the housekeeper’s office on the ground floor. The heavy oak door was locked.
Vincent didn't bother looking for a key.
He took one step back and kicked the door right next to the handle. The wood splintered, the lock shattering inward with a loud crash.
The office was meticulously organized.
Vincent walked straight to the locked filing cabinet in the corner. He used his tactical knife to pry the cheap metal lock open, ripping the top drawer out entirely.
He sifted through the files until he found a thick manila envelope labeled N. Bellini - Medical.
He tore it open, dumping the contents onto the polished mahogany desk.
Sophie stood near the doorway, watching as Vincent’s eyes scanned the documents.
His face went completely pale.
“These aren't medical records,” Vincent whispered.
He held up a sheet of paper.
“These are bank transfers.”
Sophie stepped closer. “Transfers?”
“Hundreds of thousands of dollars,” Vincent said, his voice shaking with rage. “Transferred from my father’s personal accounts to a private LLC in the Cayman Islands.”
He flipped to the next page.
“And this... this is a psychiatric evaluation.”
Vincent read the document, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the paper.
“It’s signed by a Dr. Aris Thorne. It declares my father legally incompetent, suffering from advanced, irreversible dementia. It grants full medical power of attorney to...”
Vincent stopped.
He looked up at Sophie, his dark eyes filled with absolute horror.
“To my brother,” Vincent whispered.
Sophie gasped. “Your brother?”
Vincent nodded slowly. “Antonio. My half-brother. He was exiled from the family ten years ago for skimming from our casinos. I haven't spoken to him since.”
Vincent threw the papers onto the desk.
The pieces were slamming together.
“Mrs. Hargrove wasn't just stealing jewelry,” Vincent said, pacing the room like a caged tiger. “She was working for Antonio. They used fake doctors and those ‘specialist nurses’ to declare my father insane so Antonio could legally drain his private accounts.”
“But the pill,” Sophie asked, her voice trembling. “What was the blue pill?”
Before Vincent could answer, his cell phone buzzed.
It was Matteo.
Vincent put it on speaker. “What did the lab say?”
Matteo’s voice was grim. “Boss. The pill isn't heart medication. It’s a heavy, unregulated chemical paralytic. It’s used to mimic the symptoms of locked-in syndrome.”
Sophie felt the blood drain from her face.
She swayed on her feet, grabbing the edge of the doorway to steady herself.
“They were paralyzing him,” Vincent breathed, the realization hitting him with the force of a freight train.
“The lab tech said it causes severe muscle rigidity and inability to speak, but it doesn't affect cognitive function,” Matteo continued. “He’s been trapped in his own body, Boss. Fully awake. Fully aware.”
Vincent dropped his phone onto the desk.
He didn't scream. He didn't break anything.
He just stared at the wall, a terrifying, absolute silence falling over him.
The stroke hadn't destroyed Nicholas Bellini’s mind. His own son had poisoned him to make him look like a vegetable, while the housekeeper stole his wife’s jewelry and dug graves under her roses.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the front foyer.
Vincent snapped out of his trance, drawing his weapon instantly.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered Sophie.
They moved cautiously into the grand hallway.
The heavy front doors of the mansion were wide open. The rain was blowing in, soaking the Persian rug.
Standing in the doorway was Mrs. Hargrove.
She was soaking wet, her face bruised from where she had fought the guards.
But she wasn't alone.
Standing beside her was a tall man in a tailored gray suit, holding a silver-tipped cane. He had dark hair, a sharp jawline, and eyes that looked exactly like Vincent’s.
May you like
Antonio Bellini had come home.
“Hello, little brother,” Antonio smiled, stepping out of the rain. “I hear you’ve been digging in my garden.”
