Chapter 4 - SOMEONE INSIDE THE MORETTI HOUSE
Salvatore Moretti walked into Damien’s mansion at four that afternoon as if nobody had accused him of anything.
Camel coat.
Gray suit.
No tie.
A smile that seemed permanently attached.
He looked at me first.
“So this is the miracle waitress.”
I already disliked him.
Damien stood in the center of the library.
“What did you give Rourke?”
Sal’s smile weakened.
“Good afternoon to you too.”
“The packet.”
“What packet?”
Mateo placed a tablet on the table.
Security footage played.
Sal watched himself hand Rourke the white envelope.
He sighed.
“Vitamin powder.”
I stared.
“For babies?”
“No.”
“For Rourke.”
Damien did not blink.
“What kind?”
“Electrolytes. He’d been complaining about a migraine.”
“Inside a sealed paper packet?”
“Yes.”
“Convenient.”
Sal looked offended.
“You think I poisoned your sons?”
“I think I asked a question.”
“They’re my nephews.”
“Answer it.”
Sal’s eyes hardened.
For one second, the charm vanished.
“I gave a doctor a supplement.”
“Where did you get it?”
“His bag.”
That was ridiculous enough that even Mateo looked skeptical.
Sal noticed.
“Ask him.”
“He disappeared.”
This time, Sal’s surprise seemed real.
“What?”
“His car is at O’Hare.”
Sal sat.
“That’s bad.”
“You recommended him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He treated Marissa’s daughter.”
“Your girlfriend’s daughter?”
“Ex-girlfriend.”
“And?”
“She improved.”
I spoke.
“What was wrong with her?”
Sal looked at me as if furniture had asked a question.
Damien answered for him.
“Respond.”
Sal’s mouth tightened.
“Developmental delays.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know. Speech. Sensory issues.”
“And Rourke treated her medically?”
“He oversaw the team.”
That sounded familiar.
“Was she in a research program?”
Sal stared.
“How would I know?”
I looked at Damien.
“He knows more than he’s saying.”
Sal laughed.
“Based on what?”
“Your answer.”
“That’s scientific.”
“No. Clinical.”
His smile disappeared.
Damien almost looked amused.
Almost.
Then Rosa was brought in.
The nanny looked devastated.
She had cared for Leo and Nico since they came home from the hospital.
Damien trusted her enough to put his sons in her arms.
Now she stood shaking.
Damien’s voice softened slightly.
“Rosa.”
“I didn’t hurt them.”
“I need you to tell me about the money.”
Her eyes filled.
“My sister’s house.”
“What about it?”
“She’s losing it.”
“Who gave you the cash?”
“No one.”
Damien stared.
Rosa broke.
“Mr. Salvatore.”
The room went silent.
Sal stood.
“What?”
Rosa looked terrified.
“He gave it to me last week.”
Sal pointed.
“That was a loan.”
Damien turned toward his brother.
“For what?”
“Her sister.”
“You gave my nanny twenty thousand dollars and didn’t mention it.”
“Since when do I need permission to help people?”
“Since the woman holding my infants receives cash from you days before someone poisons them.”
Sal’s face reddened.
“That is insane.”
Rosa cried harder.
“He told me not to tell you.”
Damien’s expression changed.
Sal immediately said, “Because you turn every favor into a security review.”
“Why did you give her money?”
“She asked.”
Rosa shook her head.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
“I never asked him.”
Sal stared.
Rosa backed away.
“He came to me.”
“What did he say?” Damien asked.
“That he heard about my sister.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“And then?”
“He said families should help families.”
Sal scoffed.
“That sounds exactly like me.”
Rosa looked at Damien.
“Then he asked whether the boys still woke at two.”
My skin prickled.
Damien went still.
“What?”
“He asked about their schedule.”
Sal exploded.
“They’re my nephews! I know their schedule!”
“You asked which bottle they use at night,” Rosa whispered.
Silence.
Sal turned toward her.
“You ungrateful—”
Damien stepped between them.
“Do not.”
His voice dropped.
“Speak to her like that in my house.”
Sal looked at his brother.
Something passed between them.
Old.
Deep.
Dangerous.
“You’re choosing servants over me now?”
“I’m choosing facts.”
“You’ve never cared about facts when family was involved.”
Damien’s face hardened.
“That was my mistake.”
Sal’s laugh was bitter.
“Look at you.”
He pointed toward me.
“One waitress gives you instructions for ten minutes and suddenly you’re a reformer?”
I folded my arms.
“You seem very threatened by waitresses.”
Mateo looked at the floor.
Damien’s mouth almost moved.
Sal did not appreciate the humor.
“Stay out of family business.”
“Your family business almost killed two babies in front of me.”
Damien’s eyes snapped toward Sal.
“Leave.”
Sal stared.
“Damien.”
“Until I know what happened, you stay away from my sons.”
“You can’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“I’m their uncle.”
“And I’m their father.”
The words hit like a door slamming.
Sal’s jaw tightened.
“Fine.”
He grabbed his coat.
“But when you discover Rourke used me to cover his tracks, remember how quickly you were willing to believe blood could betray you.”
Damien replied quietly.
“I already learned blood can betray me.”
Sal stopped.
For a second, actual pain appeared in his face.
Then he left.
I looked at Damien.
“That sounded personal.”
“It is.”
He walked toward the window.
Mateo sent Rosa upstairs with another guard.
I remained because Damien had asked me to.
Apparently I was now involved in a mafia family investigation despite having no health insurance.
Life was unfair in creative ways.
Damien finally spoke.
“Our father had two sons.”
“You and Sal.”
“Yes.”
“He preferred Sal?”
Damien looked back.
“No.”
“He preferred me.”
That surprised me.
“Sal never forgot it.”
Mateo leaned against the wall.
“The old man planned to leave Damien operational control.”
“And Sal?”
“Money.”
Damien’s mouth hardened.
“My father believed Sal liked being powerful more than being responsible.”
I thought about the security footage.
“What happens if you die?”
Mateo looked at Damien.
Damien answered.
“My sons inherit most of my legitimate holdings through trusts.”
“And who controls them while they’re minors?”
Silence.
My stomach dropped.
“Damien.”
“Until Sofia died, she would have.”
“And after?”
He looked toward the doorway.
“Sal.”
Everything inside me went cold.
“So if the twins die?”
“The trust structure changes.”
“To whom?”
“Me.”
“That doesn’t help Sal.”
“No.”
I thought.
“But if you become incapable of managing?”
Mateo straightened.
Damien looked at me.
“What?”
“If your children keep getting mysteriously sick, what happens?”
“My work changes.”
“You step back.”
“Probably.”
“And who takes over day-to-day operations?”
This time nobody answered.
They did not need to.
Sal.
The motive was not inheritance.
It was control.
Make the twins chronically ill.
Make Damien frightened.
Exhausted.
Distracted.
Force him to retreat.
Then let the loyal younger brother save the empire.
Damien’s face became frighteningly calm.
“Mateo.”
“Yes?”
“Review every medical appointment the twins have had since birth.”
“For what?”
“Who attended.”
I added, “And every unexplained episode.”
Damien looked at me.
I continued.
“You said Leo has feeding problems.”
“Yes.”
“When did they start?”
“Two months ago.”
“Nico?”
“Sleep disturbances.”
“When?”
“About the same time.”
“Did Rourke treat both?”
“Yes.”
“With medication?”
“Only occasionally.”
My pulse quickened.
“Get those prescriptions tested.”
Mateo was already calling.
Two hours later, the answer came.
One bottle from the nursery medicine cabinet contained the wrong concentration.
Not lethal.
Just enough to cause excessive sleepiness.
A second contained traces of the same drug found in their formula at Bellavita.
Damien sat down.
He looked sick.
“This has been happening for weeks.”
I said nothing.
He stared at his hands.
“I thought they were struggling because Sofia wasn’t here.”
His voice cracked on her name.
“I thought I was failing them.”
“You weren’t.”
“I let Rourke near them.”
“You trusted a doctor.”
“I let Sal bring him into my house.”
“You trusted your brother.”
He looked at me.
“That was stupid.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Trust isn’t stupidity. Betrayal is a choice somebody else makes.”
He stared for a long moment.
Then the nursery alarm sounded upstairs.
One sharp electronic beep.
Then another.
Mateo’s phone lit.
His face went white.
“What?”
Damien demanded.
“The nursery camera is offline.”
Damien ran.
We followed.
The door was open.
Rosa stood inside screaming.
One crib was occupied.
Leo.
The other was empty.
Nico was gone.
On the mattress lay a white envelope.
Damien tore it open.
Inside was a single note.
STOP DIGGING INTO ROURKE.
OR NEXT TIME YOU LOSE BOTH.
Damien went utterly still.
Then the most feared man in Chicago looked at one empty crib.
May you like
And broke.
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