Chapter 2 - The Poisoned Plate
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The heavy silver fork slipped from Luca Moretti’s fingers and clattered violently against his porcelain plate.
The sharp sound echoed across the frozen dining room like a gunshot.
Every whisper among the thirty elite guests died instantly in their throats.
Luca pressed a trembling hand against his sternum as his breath caught in his throat.
His commanding jaw clenched so tight that the muscles in his neck strained against his crisp collar.
“Luca?” Vanessa’s voice shook with a high, panicked pitch that she could not disguise.
The mafia boss tried to rise from his chair, but his knees buckled against the mahogany table.
Crystal wine glasses wobbled and red wine spilled across the pristine white linen like fresh blood.
Frank let out a terrified cry and reached across the table toward his only child.
“My boy!” the old man sobbed, his own shaking hands grasping desperately for Luca’s sleeve.
“Somebody help him!” Frank wailed, his voice cracking with pure agony.
I did not hesitate for a single second.
Having worked five years in this dangerous household, my survival instincts took over immediately.
I abandoned my maid’s apron strings and lunged directly toward Luca’s side.
His skin had already turned an ashen shade of gray, and cold sweat was beading across his forehead.
His pupils were dilated into wide, dark pools of panic.
“Marco!” I shouted at the top of my lungs to Luca’s chief of security stationed by the double doors.
“Lock down this estate right now!” I commanded without waiting for permission.
“No one enters, and nobody leaves this room alive until the doctor gets here!” I added fiercely.
Marco did not question me for a fraction of a second.
He drew his weapon and slammed the towering oak doors shut, turning the heavy brass deadbolt with a loud click.
Vanessa sprang up from her seat, knocking her ornate chair backward onto the hardwood floor.
“How dare you give orders in my home, you worthless servant!” Vanessa shrieked, backing toward the terrace.
She made a desperate dart toward the French doors that led into the darkened garden.
Marco stepped directly into her path, his firearm raised and his face carved from cold stone.
“Take one more step toward that garden, Mrs. Moretti, and you won’t live to see dawn,” Marco growled.
Luca groaned in agony, his fingers digging into my arm as he collapsed to his knees.
“Claire...” he gasped, his vision swimming as his pulse raced erratically against his chest.
“Stay with me, Mr. Moretti,” I said softly, dropping to my knees on the floor beside him.
I grabbed a pitcher of warm water and salt from the serving sideboard.
My grandmother had been a nurse, and she had taught me how to induce vomiting when poison struck.
“You need to purge this right now, Luca,” I whispered, looking straight into his failing eyes.
He understood immediately and swallowed the saline mixture I forced past his lips.
Within moments, the violent reaction racked his powerful frame as he expelled the contents of his stomach.
Frank fell onto the floor beside us, wrapping his frail arms around his son’s trembling shoulders.
“Hold on, Luca, please don't leave your old man,” Frank cried, tears washing over his hollow cheeks.
Luca coughed weakly, gasping for precious oxygen on the cold Persian rug.
I grabbed clean linen napkins, wiping his brow and checking his racing pulse.
The poison had already begun entering his bloodstream, but our quick action had prevented the full lethal dose from absorbing.
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Across the room, Vanessa leaned against the locked door, hyperventilating as thirty wealthy witnesses stared at her in utter disgust.
The truth was out, the betrayal was laid bare, and the empire was teetering on the edge of destruction.
