Chapter 2 - The Girl Who Remembered Everything
Mara hesitated in the doorway.
Ava lay curled beneath Dante’s suit jacket, her small face pale against the black fabric. The private doctor had attached a portable monitor to her finger, and every soft electronic beep seemed to tighten the room around them.
Ava lifted one weak hand toward Mara.
“There you are,” she murmured.
Mara crossed the office before anyone could stop her. She knelt beside the couch, careful not to touch the medical equipment.
“I’m right here.”
Ava’s fingers closed around hers.
“Did someone put medicine in my lemonade?”
The question silenced the room.
Dante looked at the doctor.
Dr. Samuel Reeve removed his glasses and glanced toward the men standing behind him. Grant Mercer was near the door. Lorenzo Vale stood beside the desk with his arms folded. The restaurant manager hovered in the hallway, sweating through his collar.
“I cannot confirm that without laboratory analysis,” Dr. Reeve said. “But her symptoms are consistent with exposure to a fast-acting sedative.”
“How much?” Dante asked.
“Not enough to stop her breathing, fortunately. Whoever measured it either knew her approximate weight or made a cautious estimate.”
Mara felt Ava’s fingers tighten.
Dante’s face became unnaturally still.
“You’re saying this was intentional.”
“I’m saying accidental exposure is unlikely.”
Lorenzo stepped forward. “Then we should focus on the person who served the drink.”
Ava turned her head toward him.
“Mara didn’t do it.”
Lorenzo’s expression softened into something that might have fooled anyone who had not spent years serving men who smiled before insulting her.
“Ava, sweetheart, you don’t know what happened.”
“Yes, I do.” Ava’s voice was faint but stubborn. “Mara gave me the pretty straw. The bad glass had an ugly one.”
Dante looked at Mara.
“You noticed the same thing.”
“Yes.”
“How certain are you?”
“Completely.”
Mara rose, though Ava did not release her hand.
“I prepared four lemonades at the service station. Two for Ava’s cousins, one for Mrs. Bellamy’s niece, and one for Ava. Ava’s was the only one with a striped straw because she asked for it. I also added two cherries instead of one.”
“There were no cherries in the glass,” Grant said.
“Exactly.”
Lorenzo’s jaw shifted almost imperceptibly.
Dante saw it.
Mara saw Dante see it.
Grant received a message through his earpiece and moved closer to Dante.
“The ambulance is at the service entrance. We should transfer Ava to St. Catherine’s. The private pediatric floor is secure.”
“No,” Dr. Reeve said sharply.
Everyone turned.
The doctor removed the monitor from Ava’s finger and began gathering his equipment.
“Not through the service entrance.”
Grant frowned. “Why?”
“Because anyone capable of contaminating a child’s drink may have prepared for the most predictable response. Her father carries her to the nearest exit. Security rushes ahead. Everyone is emotional.”
Dante looked toward Mara again.
She understood the question before he voiced it.
“The service entrance opens into the underground loading garage,” she said. “There are no public cameras between this office and the elevator.”
Grant touched his earpiece.
“Lock down the garage. Nobody enters. Search every vehicle, stairwell, and maintenance room.”
The building seemed to hold its breath.
Mara had thought the poisoned lemonade was the entire attack.
Now she realized it might only have been the first move.
They took Ava through the front entrance instead.
Dante carried her beneath a wall of black umbrellas while his security team surrounded them. Patrons inside the restaurant pressed against the windows, their faces illuminated by phone screens. Police vehicles blocked both ends of the street. An ambulance waited beneath the glow of Bellamy House’s gold sign.
Ava refused to release Mara’s hand.
“You’re coming,” she whispered.
Mara looked at Dante.
He gave one short nod.
She climbed into the ambulance.
During the ride, Dante sat beside his daughter without speaking. His left hand rested protectively over Ava’s hair. His right hand remained clenched on his knee.
Mara sat across from him, still wearing her black waitress uniform and stained white apron. Lemonade had dried in a sticky line across one sleeve.
The contrast between them felt almost absurd.
Dante Moretti had a reputation powerful enough to close streets.
Mara’s manager once deducted twelve dollars from her paycheck because a customer had claimed she spilled coffee on a handbag, even though surveillance footage later proved the customer had knocked over the cup herself.
Yet Ava’s hand remained wrapped around Mara’s fingers as though neither wealth nor fear mattered.
“Tell me everything you saw tonight,” Dante said.
Mara began at the beginning.
She told him about the birthday decorations arriving at four. The pink paper flowers. The chocolate cake. The silver boxes containing gifts. She described every employee assigned to the private dining room, every guest who arrived late, and every person who entered the service station.
Dante listened without interrupting.
“Mr. Vale came through twice,” she said.
Lorenzo, riding in the second vehicle, could not hear her.
Dante’s gaze sharpened. “Why?”
“The first time, he asked for sparkling water. The second time, he said he was looking for the restroom.”
“He has eaten at Bellamy House for years.”
“I know.”
“He knew where the restroom was.”
“Yes.”
“Did he touch anything?”
“I didn’t see him touch the drinks. I was carrying dessert plates into the dining room when he passed me.”
“What about the manager?”
“Mr. Bellamy entered the station after Lorenzo left. He told me the flowers were blocking the hallway camera and ordered a busboy to move them.”
Dante leaned forward.
“Which camera?”
“The one facing the service station.”
Ava shifted restlessly on the stretcher.
Mara lowered her voice.
“The flowers weren’t blocking it before.”
Dante’s expression darkened.
“Why didn’t you say that immediately?”
“Because I didn’t know it mattered until now.”
The ambulance stopped.
Before the doors opened, Dante caught Mara’s gaze.
“From this moment forward, you do not return to your apartment alone. You do not call anyone without Mercer’s people checking the number. You do not speak to the police, the press, or your employer unless my attorney is present.”
“Your attorney is Lorenzo.”
“Not anymore.”
The doors opened before Mara could respond.
The pediatric floor at St. Catherine’s had been cleared by the time they arrived. Ava was taken into an examination room while Dante’s men secured the elevators and stairwells.
Mara stood outside, surrounded by polished walls and people who moved as though every second mattered.
Grant approached her.
“We found something in the loading garage.”
Her mouth went dry.
“What?”
“A delivery van that did not belong to any scheduled vendor. Engine running. Driver’s seat empty.”
“Was there anyone inside?”
“No. But there were restraints in the back and two sets of license plates.”
Mara stared at him.
Grant’s suspicion toward her had not disappeared, but something new had entered his expression.
Respect, perhaps.
Or concern.
“Whoever switched Ava’s glass expected Mr. Moretti to use that garage,” she said.
“That is our working theory.”
“Then why sedate her instead of killing her?”
Grant studied her.
“That is the question keeping everyone awake.”
Dante emerged from the examination room.
“The laboratory found a concentrated tranquilizer,” he said. “She will recover.”
Relief struck Mara so suddenly that her knees weakened.
Dante’s face did not soften.
“They also found something else.”
Grant straightened.
“What?”
“A blue marking compound used by armored-transport companies. It was on the outside of the glass, beneath the napkin.”
Mara remembered the blank side of the cocktail napkin.
“It marked whoever picked it up.”
Dante nodded.
“It was not merely a poisoned drink. It was a signal. Once I carried Ava into the garage, someone watching for the blue compound on my hand would identify which vehicle I entered.”
Grant cursed under his breath.
Mara looked at Dante’s right hand.
A faint blue stain remained along the side of his palm.
The trap had been designed around his love for his daughter.
Dante turned to Grant.
“Bring me every second of footage from the restaurant.”
“Already being transferred.”
“And find Bellamy.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed. “He is missing.”
Dante became very quiet.
“When?”
“Seven minutes after we left. One of the kitchen employees says he went downstairs to check the wine inventory. He never came back.”
Mara suddenly remembered something.
“His office.”
“What about it?” Dante asked.
“There’s a second exit behind the wine rack. He uses it when health inspectors arrive unexpectedly.”
Grant was already moving.
Dante stopped him with one word.
“Wait.”
He looked at Mara.
“How do you know that?”
“Because invisible people notice which doors powerful people use when they think no one is watching.”
For the first time that night, something almost like approval appeared in Dante’s eyes.
Then every light in the hospital corridor went out.
May you like
The monitors inside Ava’s room began screaming.
And from the darkness came the unmistakable sound of someone forcing open the emergency stairwell door.
