Chapter 7 - The Poisoned Tray
Downstairs,
the grand dining hall felt cavernous and freezing despite the ornate marble fireplaces.
Leo had assigned a bodyguard named Marco to escort me to the kitchen.
Marco was built like a brick wall,
silent and watchful as a hawk.
I prepared a tray of light broth,
crackers,
and herbal tea for Dominic's midday medication.
Just as I lifted the silver tray,
the kitchen cook—an elderly Italian woman named Maria—gasped softly and grabbed my wrist.
"Don't take that up there,
signorina,
" she whispered in broken English,
her eyes wide with terror.
"Why not?" I asked,
frowning in confusion.
"Vince's people have paid off someone in the staff,
" Maria trembled,
glancing around the empty kitchen.
"That broth.
.
.
it smells sweet.
Bitter-sweet.
Like almond extract.
"
Cyanide.
My medical training kicked in instantly,
overriding every shred of fear.
I dipped the tip of a clean spoon into the broth and touched it to the edge of my tongue.
A sharp,
metallic burn hit my tastebuds immediately,
accompanied by a nauseating chemical tang.
Poison.
Someone inside this impregnable fortress was actively trying to finish what the sniper started.
"Marco,
" I said sharply,
turning to the towering bodyguard.
"Lock the kitchen doors right now.
"
Marco's expression hardened into stone as he drew his pistol from his holster.
"What did you find?"
"Arsenic or cyanide derivative,
" I replied,
my hands steady as I set the lethal tray down on the marble counter.
"Someone tried to kill Dominic using his lunch.
"
Five minutes later,
Dominic stood in the doorway of the kitchen,
his dark coat billowing behind him like the wings of a predatory bird.
His eyes surveyed the scene with terrifying coldness.
"Who prepared this tray?" he asked,
his voice barely above a whisper,
yet it echoed with absolute death.
Maria pointed a trembling finger toward the scullery door.
"The new dishwasher,
a boy named Luca.
"
Dominic didn't raise his voice.
"Find him,
" he told Leo and Marco,
May you like
"and bring him to my study alive.
"
