Chapter 3 - The Medicine That Wasn’t His
By eight that morning, every gate on the Kesler property was locked.
Nobody left.
Nobody entered.
Roman called it containment.
I called it a mansion full of frightened people with guns.
Dominic called it Tuesday.
Dr. Malcolm Voss’s car remained in the garage.
His coat hung beside the kitchen entrance.
His phone was found inside his downstairs medical office.
But Voss himself was gone.
There were no signs of forced exit.
The security cameras showed nothing.
That meant either the cameras had been manipulated or Voss had never left the property.
“Search every room,” Dominic ordered.
Roman nodded.
“Already happening.”
“And the tunnels?”
I looked at Dominic.
“Tunnels?”
Roman’s expression suggested I had asked something impolite.
“Old service corridors,” Dominic said.
“Your house has secret tunnels?”
“It was built during Prohibition.”
“Of course it was.”
Dominic almost smiled.
“Anything else about your home I should know? Hidden dungeon? Shark tank?”
“No sharks.”
“Comforting.”
A guard entered.
“Mr. Kesler.”
He handed Roman a small plastic evidence bag.
Inside was an empty vial.
Midazolam.
My pulse jumped.
“Where?”
“Laundry chute access on the second floor.”
Roman examined it.
“Fingerprints?”
“We haven’t touched the glass.”
Dominic looked at me.
“Could someone put it in my IV?”
“Yes.”
“How fast?”
“Depends on dose. Enough would cause sedation, confusion, memory gaps.”
He leaned back.
“Which explains why I keep waking exhausted.”
I nodded.
“And why you didn’t remember people entering.”
“Would it worsen the infection?”
“Not directly.”
“So somebody is drugging me and something else is keeping me sick.”
“Yes.”
“Efficient.”
“That’s one word.”
I checked his vitals.
Fever one hundred and two.
Worse.
His skin was clammy.
Pulse fast.
I wanted him in a hospital.
He refused.
“You may not have a choice.”
“I always have a choice.”
“Sepsis doesn’t care about your business model.”
“My doctors can treat me here.”
“One of your doctors is currently missing inside a mansion with secret tunnels.”
He stared at me.
I folded my arms.
“Tell me that sentence sounds safe to you.”
Roman looked away.
Dominic exhaled.
“Hospital security can’t protect me.”
“From who?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
“Then tell me why somebody would want you alive but sick.”
The room went still.
I had finally asked the correct question.
If an enemy wanted Dominic dead, poisoning him outright would have been easier.
He had been unconscious after surgery.
Dependent on other people.
Vulnerable.
Yet somebody had chosen infection, sedation, slow deterioration.
Dominic looked at Roman.
Roman said nothing.
“What?” I asked.
Dominic’s gaze remained on him.
“Tell her.”
Roman hesitated.
Then faced me.
“Dominic’s signature is required for several major ownership transfers currently under negotiation.”
“What kind of transfers?”
“Companies. Property. Voting control.”
“If he dies?”
“His holdings go into a complicated trust.”
“And if he’s alive but medically incapacitated?”
Roman’s expression tightened.
“Temporary authority transfers to the designated family representative.”
“Elena?”
Dominic answered.
“Yes.”
I sat down slowly.
“You think somebody wants you sick enough that she controls the company.”
“I think someone wants something.”
“But if Elena benefits—”
“She doesn’t know the trust works that way,” Roman said.
Dominic looked at him sharply.
“She should.”
“Your father changed it before his death.”
“And you didn’t tell her?”
“It was not relevant.”
“It is now.”
The family secrets in this house were stacked like loaded weapons.
Someone was going to pick one up.
Elena entered before noon.
Dominic told her.
Her reaction was immediate.
“You think I’m trying to make you incompetent so I can take your company?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She looked at Roman.
“You knew?”
Roman nodded.
Her face hardened.
“How long?”
“Eighteen months.”
“My father changed a trust that could put me in control of billions and nobody thought I should know?”
“It was temporary authority.”
“It was my life.”
“Elena—” Dominic began.
She turned on him.
“No. You don’t get to defend this. You and Roman decide what everyone can handle, what everyone can know, who gets protected from the truth. Then you’re shocked when your own house becomes full of secrets.”
She left again.
Dominic stared at the closed door.
I kept my mouth shut.
He looked at me.
“Say it.”
“You’re terrible at family communication.”
“Anything else?”
“Probably.”
He grunted.
Roman’s team found Voss at 1:17 p.m.
Not alive.
He was unconscious in a narrow maintenance room behind the old wine cellar.
He had been struck in the head.
His wrists were tied.
A rag had been stuffed between his teeth.
He was hypothermic and barely responsive.
We turned the ballroom into an emergency treatment area.
When Voss finally woke, he panicked.
“Where is he?”
Roman leaned closer.
“Who?”
Voss grabbed my forearm.
“He knows.”
“Who knows?”
His eyes searched the room.
“Calder.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
Roman’s did too.
“Who is Calder?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
Voss’s breathing became rapid.
“Dominic, listen to me. I didn’t know at first.”
“Know what?”
“They told me they only needed you weak.”
Dominic’s face became stone.
Voss started crying.
Not dramatic tears.
Terrified ones.
“They had my daughter.”
Roman moved forward.
“Who had her?”
“Calder’s people.”
“Who is Calder?” I asked again.
Dominic finally answered.
“My father’s former partner.”
I looked at him.
“Former?”
“He stole from the organization twenty years ago.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
Voss shook his head.
“No. He didn’t.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
Voss swallowed.
“He came back before your father died.”
Roman went pale.
“What are you saying?”
“Your father knew.”
Dominic stood too quickly.
Pain hit him.
I caught his shoulder.
“Sit down.”
He ignored me.
“My father knew Calder was alive?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why was he using my father’s authorization code?”
“I gave it to him.”
Roman stepped forward.
“You?”
Voss closed his eyes.
“He threatened my daughter.”
“You drugged Dominic.”
“Yes.”
“You underdosed his antibiotics.”
“Yes.”
“Did you contaminate the wound?”
“No.”
His answer came fast.
Too fast.
I leaned closer.
“Then who did?”
Voss looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I swear.”
Dominic’s voice dropped.
“What did Calder want?”
Voss began trembling.
“He wants you incapacitated before the board meeting Friday.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s a document.”
“What document?”
“I never saw it.”
“Where?”
“Your father hid it.”
Roman’s face became unreadable.
Dominic stepped closer.
“What document?”
Voss looked at him.
“Something that proves Calder owns half of Kesler Holdings.”
Silence.
Dominic’s empire wasn’t just under attack.
Someone was trying to take it legally.
And if Voss was telling the truth, Dominic’s dead father had left behind evidence capable of destroying everything.
Voss grabbed Dominic’s sleeve.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“Calder isn’t working alone.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
Voss looked toward the ballroom entrance.
One of the guards standing there.
Then another.
Then Roman.
Then me.
His gaze stopped on the staircase beyond.
“He has someone inside your family.”
At that exact moment, a scream echoed from upstairs.
Elena.
Dominic turned.
We ran.
By the time we reached her room, the window was open.
Curtains snapped in the winter air.
Elena was gone.
On her bed lay a single photograph.
Dominic picked it up.
It showed Elena entering a restaurant three weeks earlier.
Across from her sat a gray-haired man.
Roman whispered his name.
“Calder.”
Dominic stared at the photo.
And for the first time, he looked truly betrayed.
May you like
Because Elena had apparently been meeting the enemy long before Dominic was injured.
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