Chapter 8 - The Traitor Inside the Mansion
My mother’s death had nothing to do with Dominic Rossi.
At least that was what I had believed for eight years.
Her name was Rebecca Hayes.
She had been a hospital pharmacist.
Careful.
Methodical.
The kind of woman who checked the stove three times before leaving the house.
She died after her car crossed the center line on a dry Tuesday afternoon.
No alcohol.
No drugs.
No mechanical problem investigators could prove.
They called it an accident.
Daniel never accepted that explanation.
Neither did I.
But grief doesn't always come with answers.
Sometimes it simply exhausts you until you stop asking questions.
Dominic held Anthony’s photograph.
“What happened to your mother?”
I told him.
Every detail.
The hospital where she worked.
Her concerns about suspicious controlled-medication orders months before she died.
The notebook Daniel and I could never find after the accident.
And the last conversation I had with her.
She had called me from work.
“Nora,” she said, “if anything ever feels wrong, trust that feeling.”
At twenty years old, I had laughed.
I never got to ask what she meant.
Dominic stared at me.
“What hospital?”
“St. Matthew’s.”
Leo and Dominic exchanged a look.
“What?”
Dominic answered quietly.
“My father owned part of St. Matthew's medical supply contractor.”
I felt something inside me turn cold.
“What contractor?”
“Rossi Medical Logistics.”
The room tilted.
“My mother audited medication shipments.”
Dominic nodded slowly.
“And Vincent managed that division twelve years ago.”
Everything suddenly connected.
Maybe not cleanly.
But enough to frighten me.
“We need Anthony,” I said.
Dominic immediately shook his head.
“You aren't going.”
“He asked for me.”
“Exactly.”
“So?”
“So it could be a trap.”
“What if he knows something about my mother?”
“Nora.”
“No.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“This isn't negotiable.”
“Then stop pretending you're asking.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“And I'm trying to find out why my mother died.”
His expression softened slightly.
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
He became very still.
The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
Of course he knew.
His mother had died under almost identical unanswered circumstances.
“I’m sorry.”
“You're right.”
“Dominic—”
“You deserve answers.”
He looked toward Leo.
“We go together.”
The motel was twenty-eight miles outside the city.
Daniel insisted on being there.
Dominic insisted Daniel remain outside.
Daniel responded with language I will not repeat.
Eventually we compromised.
Daniel and two officers waited nearby without entering the room unless called.
Dominic, Leo and I went inside.
Anthony Rossi looked nothing like I expected.
He was younger than Dominic by several years.
Thinner.
Exhausted.
Terrified.
When he saw Dominic, he backed against the wall.
“I'm sorry.”
Dominic’s voice remained cold.
“For which part?”
Anthony swallowed.
“I didn't shoot you.”
“But you drugged me.”
Anthony closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“You replaced his antibiotic.”
“Yes.”
Dominic stepped forward.
Leo blocked him gently.
“Let him talk.”
Anthony looked at me.
“I didn't know who you were until Vincent told me.”
“What does that mean?”
“He knew your mother.”
My pulse accelerated.
“How?”
“Rebecca Hayes discovered shipments being rerouted through St. Matthew’s.”
“What shipments?”
“Pharmaceuticals. Mostly legitimate. Some weren't.”
“Illegal drugs?”
“Some. Cash too.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Why would Vincent run that operation through my father’s company?”
“Because Carlo never checked medical logistics closely.”
Anthony looked at Dominic.
“Your father trusted Vincent.”
“And you?”
“I owed him money.”
“For what?”
Anthony looked down.
“Gambling.”
Dominic laughed without humor.
“So he bought you.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“And the medication?”
“He told me you couldn't die immediately.”
Dominic’s eyes hardened.
“He needed time.”
“For what?” I asked.
“To transfer control.”
“Of the organization?”
Anthony nodded.
“If Dominic died immediately after being shot, everyone would look for the shooter. If infection killed him five days later, it would look medical.”
I felt sick.
“And Mercer?”
“Mercer discovered the substitution.”
“Why did he run?”
“He was trying to reach police.”
Daniel had been right.
Mercer wasn't part of the plot.
He had been trying to expose it.
“Vincent killed him?” I asked.
Anthony shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Dominic leaned closer.
“Who impersonated Mercer?”
Anthony's face went pale.
“Vincent.”
We already suspected it.
Hearing confirmation still changed everything.
“And the warehouse shooting?”
Anthony shook his head.
“I wasn't there.”
“You knew.”
“I knew something was going to happen.”
Dominic looked devastated beneath the anger.
“You're family.”
“I know.”
“My mother fed you at our table.”
“I know.”
“My father paid for your college.”
“I know!”
Anthony suddenly shouted.
Then immediately looked terrified.
Tears filled his eyes.
“I know.”
Dominic said nothing.
Anthony sank onto the edge of the bed.
“Vincent has controlled me for years.”
“No,” Dominic said quietly. “He gave you choices. You made them.”
Anthony looked away.
That truth hurt more than any threat.
I stepped forward.
“My mother.”
Anthony looked at me.
“What happened?”
“I don't know everything.”
“Tell me what you know.”
He took a breath.
“Rebecca found irregular shipments. She contacted someone inside Rossi Medical.”
“Vincent.”
“Yes.”
“She thought he would help.”
My stomach dropped.
“Instead?”
“He told her she was mistaken.”
“Then?”
“She kept investigating.”
Anthony's voice weakened.
“Vincent told people she had copies.”
“Copies of what?”
“Shipping manifests.”
Dominic looked at Leo.
“Those could have connected him directly.”
Anthony nodded.
“One week later, your mother died.”
I felt the room shrink around me.
“Did Vincent kill her?”
“I don't know.”
“Did he order it?”
“I don't know.”
“You must know something.”
“I know he celebrated.”
Silence.
“He what?”
Anthony looked sick.
“The night after she died, he told me a problem had solved itself.”
My hands began shaking.
Dominic noticed.
He moved beside me.
Not touching.
Just present.
Anthony opened a drawer.
Inside was a flash drive.
“I copied his files.”
Dominic took it.
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
“Against Vincent?”
“Yes.”
Anthony’s eyes shifted toward the window.
“He knows I have it.”
A red dot appeared on the wall.
For half a second, none of us understood.
Then Dominic moved.
He grabbed me and pulled me to the floor.
Glass shattered.
Everyone shouted.
Leo dragged Anthony down.
Another window exploded.
Daniel and officers rushed from outside.
Dominic covered my head with his body.
His injured shoulder struck the floor.
He grunted.
“Dominic!”
“I’m fine.”
“You're bleeding again.”
“Stay down.”
Police sirens erupted outside.
The shooter fled before anyone reached the opposite building.
When the room finally became quiet, Dominic remained over me.
His breathing was ragged.
Our faces were inches apart.
“You could have reopened everything,” I whispered.
His gaze stayed on mine.
“You're alive.”
“So are you.”
“Good.”
For one second, neither of us moved.
Then Anthony spoke from across the room.
“There’s something on the drive you need to see.”
Dominic helped me sit up.
“What?”
Anthony stared at him.
“A list.”
“What list?”
“Everyone Vincent paid.”
“How many?”
“Dozens.”
“Names?”
Anthony swallowed.
“One is inside your house right now.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
“Who?”
Anthony looked at Leo.
Then at me.
And whispered:
May you like
“The person who hired Nora.”
---
