Chapter 2 - The Bottle in His Hand
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Julian knocked again.
“Eleanor?”
Vincent raised a finger, warning us to stay quiet.
I looked at Alexander.
His hand had gone still again.
Julian tried the handle.
“Why is this locked?”
Eleanor recovered first.
“Mr. Romano is being changed.”
There was a short silence.
“At six in the morning?”
“He has a fever.”
Another pause.
Then Julian laughed softly.
“Well. I suppose that answers that.”
His footsteps did not immediately disappear.
I watched the space beneath the door.
His shadow remained there.
Vincent saw it too.
Then Julian said, “Claire?”
My throat tightened.
“Yes?”
“My brother has been asking for you whenever he wakes.”
That made no sense.
Alexander had barely been conscious for two days.
Before I could answer, Eleanor said, “He needs rest.”
“Of course.”
Finally the shadow moved away.
We listened until the footsteps vanished.
Vincent waited another full minute.
“Pack a small bag,” he told me.
“What?”
“You’re leaving the estate.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“Then it’s still no.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You discovered the medication switch. If whoever did this knows—”
“Alexander can barely breathe.”
“I have medical training.”
“So do I.”
“Security is my responsibility.”
“And he’s mine.”
The words came out before I could stop them.
Vincent’s eyebrow lifted.
Eleanor looked at me with a strange expression.
I felt heat rise into my face.
“As an employee,” I added quickly.
Nobody believed me.
Vincent apparently decided there were more important problems.
“We move him somewhere secure.”
“How?” Eleanor asked.
“Without anyone noticing.”
“He can barely be moved.”
“I know.”
I looked at the windows.
The rain was beginning to weaken, dawn spreading gray light over the ocean.
“Then we make them think nothing has changed.”
Vincent turned to me.
“What?”
“We leave Alexander here.”
“That is exactly what we are not doing.”
“Not Alexander.”
Understanding slowly appeared on Eleanor’s face.
“A decoy.”
I nodded.
The estate had medical mannequins stored in one of the training rooms because Vincent ran first-aid drills for security personnel. Beneath blankets, with the curtains partly closed and the door guarded, nobody would notice immediately.
Vincent stared at me.
“You came up with that quickly.”
“My mother used to say panic wastes time.”
Something softened briefly in his expression.
Then it vanished.
“We’ll need Keller.”
“No,” I said.
“We need a doctor.”
“We need a doctor we trust.”
Vincent glanced at the two medicine bottles.
Neither of us said more.
Eleanor knew someone.
Her niece, Dr. Rebecca Shaw, worked emergency medicine at a private hospital in Manhattan. More importantly, she had never met the Romano family.
Vincent arranged for her to enter through the service gate disguised as catering staff.
By seven thirty, Alexander had been moved through a passage I hadn’t known existed.
The Romano estate had apparently been built by people who distrusted ordinary hallways.
Behind a carved panel in the library was a narrow staircase leading to an older section of the mansion sealed from everyday use.
We carried Alexander into a bedroom overlooking the cliffs.
Rebecca examined him immediately.
Her conclusion terrified me.
“He’s been sedated repeatedly.”
Eleanor pressed a hand against her mouth.
“Can you reverse it?”
“Not all at once.”
“Will he live?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“I think we found this in time.”
Think.
Not know.
Think.
I sat beside Alexander while she connected portable equipment.
Within an hour, his breathing became steadier.
By midmorning, the entire estate believed Alexander Romano was still in his main bedroom.
Dr. Keller entered twice.
Julian entered once.
Both were recorded on hidden cameras Vincent had installed.
Neither knew the patient beneath the blankets wasn’t Alexander.
Then something strange happened.
At 10:16 a.m., Keller removed an amber bottle from his bag.
He looked toward the bedroom door.
Then toward the camera.
And deliberately placed two tablets on the bedside table.
Vincent froze the footage.
“Those are the fake pills.”
“How can you tell?” Eleanor asked.
“They’re yellow.”
My stomach tightened.
“That proves Keller’s involved.”
Vincent shook his head.
“Not necessarily.”
“What else could it mean?”
“Someone could be using him.”
“By replacing medication in his own bag?”
Vincent rewound the recording.
Keller’s hands were shaking.
Not a little.
Violently.
He looked terrified.
Then the bedroom door opened.
Julian walked in.
Keller immediately stepped away from the medicine.
Julian smiled at him.
Even through the silent security footage, I felt something wrong.
Julian spoke.
Vincent enhanced the audio.
“You’re doing exactly what we discussed?”
Keller answered too quietly.
Vincent increased the volume.
Finally we heard it.
“Yes.”
Julian leaned closer.
“And how long?”
Keller swallowed.
“Two days. Maybe three.”
Eleanor whispered, “Dear God.”
Julian patted Keller on the shoulder.
“Then we’ll all be able to mourn properly.”
A chill moved through me.
Vincent stopped the recording.
Nobody spoke.
The evidence seemed obvious.
Julian was poisoning his brother.
Except Alexander Romano had built an empire by assuming obvious answers were often traps.
I stared at the screen.
“Play it again.”
Vincent looked at me.
“Why?”
“The beginning.”
He replayed it.
Keller entered.
Placed the pills.
Looked toward the camera.
That was what bothered me.
If he knew the camera existed, why commit a crime directly beneath it?
“He wants us to see him,” I said.
Vincent leaned forward.
“What?”
“Keller knows the room is monitored.”
“Everyone knows.”
“Then why would he visibly place the pills there?”
Eleanor caught on.
“He’s leaving evidence.”
“Or asking for help.”
Vincent replayed the footage once more.
This time I watched Keller’s left hand.
As Julian entered, Keller touched his wrist twice.
Then once.
Then twice again.
A strange pattern.
Two-one-two.
I remembered something from nursing school.
“Room 212.”
“What?”
“Keller might be telling us a room number.”
Vincent was already searching the estate database.
“There is no 212.”
“Hospital?”
Rebecca looked up.
“Dr. Keller practices at St. Matthew’s Medical Center.”
Vincent called someone.
Three minutes later he had an answer.
St. Matthew’s had a storage room numbered 212 in its outpatient wing.
At noon, Vincent sent two men he trusted.
They found nothing inside the room except a cardboard box addressed to Dr. Keller.
Inside was a flash drive.
On it was a forty-seven-second recording.
Keller’s face filled the screen.
“If you are watching this,” he said, “then Alexander Romano is probably already unconscious.”
My stomach dropped.
Keller looked over his shoulder before continuing.
“I did not change his medication willingly.”
He swallowed hard.
“They have my daughter.”
Eleanor gasped.
Keller continued.
“I was ordered to keep Alexander unconscious until Friday. After that, I was told he would die.”
Friday.
Two days away.
“I don’t know who is controlling this. I receive instructions through encrypted messages. Julian Romano is involved, but I don’t believe he is the person in charge.”
Vincent leaned closer.
Keller’s final words changed everything.
“Someone inside Alexander’s organization has been planning this for months. Someone Alexander trusts enough to give unrestricted access to the estate.”
The recording ended.
I looked at Vincent.
“So Julian isn’t alone.”
“No.”
“Who else has unrestricted access?”
Vincent didn’t answer.
His face had changed.
“Vincent?”
He slowly reached into his jacket.
For one terrifying moment, I thought he was drawing a weapon.
Instead he removed his phone.
A notification had appeared.
An internal security alert.
Someone had entered the hidden passage leading to Alexander’s new room.
Only one person besides Vincent knew the code.
Eleanor.
And she was standing beside us.
Vincent turned toward the door.
Footsteps sounded beyond it.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Coming closer.
I grabbed Alexander’s hand.
The footsteps stopped outside.
The handle turned.
Then Alexander Romano opened his eyes.
And whispered one word.
May you like
“Claire.”
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