Chapter 3 - THE GIRL WHO HATED MEDICINE
The room Sofia warned me about was the private medical room.
That made her words difficult to ignore.
Nico showed it to me the following morning.
Cabinets.
Nebulizer.
Pulse oximeter.
Emergency oxygen.
Prescription medications organized with the precision of a hospital supply closet.
Everything looked perfect.
Too perfect.
“What did she mean by medicine going bad?” I asked.
Nico folded his arms.
“She says things.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
His expression hardened.
Most people probably stopped there.
I didn’t.
“You hired me because other people keep missing something.”
“I hired you to assist.”
“Then assist me by answering.”
For several seconds, he stared.
Then:
“Three months ago Sofia claimed her inhaler tasted different.”
“What happened?”
“We replaced it.”
“And?”
“Nothing.”
“Did anyone check the original?”
“The nurse said it was fine.”
“Which nurse?”
“Patricia Wynn.”
“Still here?”
“No.”
Of course.
“Why did she leave?”
“Sofia threw a lamp at her.”
I looked toward him.
“Before or after the inhaler?”
His eyes narrowed.
“After.”
That mattered.
We checked the medication cabinet.
All current prescriptions matched the hospital list.
Then I opened the treatment log.
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
Nico moved closer.
“These rescue treatments.”
“What about them?”
“They’re all signed.”
“Yes.”
“By nurses who no longer work here.”
“And?”
“I’ve been here three days. Sofia needed albuterol twice yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“Neither entry is here.”
He looked.
I continued.
“If current treatments aren’t recorded, why are old records perfect?”
Nico understood.
“Someone filled them in later.”
“Maybe.”
“You always say maybe.”
“Because evidence is better than drama.”
His mouth almost moved.
“You’ll find this household frustrating.”
“I already do.”
Sofia entered behind us.
She immediately froze when she saw the open cabinet.
“No.”
I closed it.
“Done.”
She stared.
Nico asked, “Sofia, did someone give you different medicine?”
Her face emptied.
Bad question.
Too direct.
I looked at Nico.
He understood from my expression and stepped back.
I sat on the floor.
Sofia remained near the door.
“I used to hate cherry cough syrup.”
She looked at me.
“What?”
“Tasted like melted plastic.”
Her nose wrinkled.
“That’s disgusting.”
“Exactly.”
She edged closer.
“What does your inhaler taste like?”
“Nothing.”
“And the bad one?”
Her face changed.
“Sweet.”
My pulse quickened.
Asthma inhalers did not suddenly become sweet.
“What kind of sweet?”
“Candy.”
“Who gave it to you?”
Sofia looked toward the hallway.
Then whispered:
“Uncle Roman.”
Nico went completely still.
“Roman?”
Sofia flinched.
I lifted one hand toward him.
Not now.
Roman Vitali was Nico’s cousin.
Head of estate security.
The second most powerful man in the organization.
He was forty, polished, charming, and had been kind to me since I arrived.
Too kind, maybe.
He had shown me security exits.
Told me which staff to trust.
Brought Sofia coloring books.
Nico’s voice lowered.
“Why would Roman give you medicine?”
Sofia shook her head.
“Bad.”
“Sweet?”
She covered her ears.
Conversation over.
I stood.
Nico followed me into the hallway.
“You think Roman drugged her?”
“I think Sofia associates him with something she doesn’t like.”
“That is not enough.”
“Good.”
He looked surprised.
“I expected you to accuse him.”
“I’m not your father’s men.”
He almost smiled.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t tell powerful people what they want to hear because they’re scary.”
“That may shorten your life.”
“Then stop hiring honest people.”
That evening, Roman came to dinner.
He kissed Sofia’s hair.
She went rigid.
I saw it.
Nico did too.
Roman noticed neither.
Or pretended not to.
“How’s our little princess?” he asked.
Sofia stared at her plate.
“Fine,” Nico answered.
Roman looked at me.
“And how is our newest employee surviving?”
“I’m difficult to kill.”
His smile widened.
“I like her.”
Nico’s eyes cooled.
“I noticed.”
Something strange passed between them.
History.
Competition.
I filed it away.
After dinner, Sofia had an asthma attack.
Fast.
Too fast.
She had been laughing with me over a card game when suddenly she started coughing.
Then wheezing.
I reached for her rescue inhaler.
Two puffs.
No improvement.
Another treatment.
Still worse.
My pulse jumped.
“Nico!”
He arrived instantly.
Sofia’s lips were paling.
I grabbed the nebulizer.
Medication cup.
Opened a fresh sealed vial.
Within minutes, her breathing began improving.
The difference was obvious.
I looked at the inhaler I had used first.
Something was wrong with it.
Nico saw my face.
“What?”
“This one didn’t work.”
“It was new.”
“Who replaced it?”
A staff nurse entered.
“Mr. Roman brought the pharmacy package this afternoon.”
Silence.
Nico looked at her.
“Roman?”
“Yes, sir.”
I held up the inhaler.
“Do not throw this away.”
Nico’s expression became terrifying.
“Clara.”
“No.”
He stared.
“You’re thinking about confronting him.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t.”
“You’re telling me—”
“I’m telling you we have a seven-year-old child who may have received a tampered inhaler. If you scare Roman before we know anything, whatever proof exists disappears.”
Nico looked toward Sofia.
His fists loosened.
Slowly.
“Fine.”
We sent the inhaler to a private lab under a false patient name.
The result came the next afternoon.
The canister contained almost no albuterol.
Mostly propellant.
And traces of flavored glycerin.
Sweet.
Candy.
Sofia had been telling the truth.
Nico sat in his study reading the report.
He looked hollow.
“Roman has access to everything.”
“The medication room?”
“Yes.”
“Security cameras?”
“Yes.”
“Staff files?”
“Yes.”
I felt cold.
My employment file.
My father.
My unfinished nursing education.
Everything.
“Who recommended you look into me?” I asked.
Nico looked up.
“What?”
“When Daniel offered me.”
He thought.
Then his face changed.
“Roman.”
My stomach dropped.
“He said your father had a daughter with medical training.”
I sat down.
“Before you met me?”
“Yes.”
“How did he know?”
Silence.
Exactly.
That evening, I called Daniel for the first time since arriving.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Clara?”
“Who introduced you to Nico’s lenders?”
Silence.
“Dad.”
“A guy.”
“What guy?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You remember every card dealer who owes you twenty dollars.”
He sighed.
“Roman.”
My blood went cold.
“Roman Vitali?”
“Yeah.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Maybe a year.”
“Did he know about nursing school?”
Another silence.
“Dad.”
“He asked about you.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What did you tell him?”
“That you were studying medicine.”
“Nursing.”
“Whatever.”
“Why did he ask?”
“He said there might be work.”
My heart hammered.
Then Daniel said:
“Clara, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“The night they came to collect me, Roman told me exactly what to say.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“He told me to offer you.”
The entire room seemed to tilt.
“Why?”
“He said Nico would never take the deal.”
“Then why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
My father’s voice dropped.
“He said once you were inside the house, everything else would take care of itself.”
The line went dead.
I turned toward Nico.
He had heard enough from across the room to understand.
Roman had not taken advantage of Daniel’s debt.
He had built the road that brought me here.
May you like
And whatever he wanted from me had only begun.
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