Chapter 3 - The Poison in the Veins
“What is it?” Meline asked, reading the sudden panic in Vincent’s posture. She tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced her back against the pillows. “Vincent, what does the chart say?”
Dr. Harrison adjusted his glasses, looking between Meline and the towering mob boss with professional gravity. “Mrs. Castellano, your routine tox screen came back positive for elevated levels of heavy metals and a slow-acting synthetic barbiturate. It’s a derivative commonly used in high-end European sedatives.”
Meline’s breath caught in her throat. “A sedative? But I haven't taken anything stronger than prenatal vitamins in months.”
“It’s not in pill form,” the doctor explained gently. “Based on the concentration levels in your bloodstream, it’s being ingested in micro-doses over an extended period. Contaminated water, food preparation, or shared kitchen supplies. Given your stage of pregnancy, this toxin has been crossing the placental barrier.”
Vincent’s grip on the metal clipboard turned the edges white. The air in the room dropped ten degrees. When he spoke, his voice was no longer human; it was the low, guttural growl of a cornered beast.
“Who had access to her food?” Vincent demanded, his gaze fixed on Luca.
“She worked at the Gilded Vine, boss,” Luca answered immediately, his eyes widening as the pieces clicked together. “Thomas, the head chef. The sous chefs. Anyone in that kitchen.”
“No,” Meline whispered, shaking her head frantically as a cold sweat broke out across her neck. “No, Thomas is just a harsh boss. He yells about branzino and wine lists, he wouldn't—”
“Thomas doesn't have the brains to synthesize a European barbiturate,” Vincent interrupted, his voice cutting through her denial like a scalpel. He turned to Luca. “Bring Thomas to the warehouse on Ashland Avenue. And bring the entire kitchen staff from the Gilded Vine. If anyone touched her food, I want to know who paid them.”
“Boss, we can't raid a high-end restaurant in the middle of the night without triggering a federal response,” Luca warned cautiously.
“I don't give a damn about federal response!” Vincent roared, slamming his fist against the medical tray table, sending plastic cups and pitchers clattering to the floor. “My wife and my unborn child have been slowly poisoned inside a restaurant sitting on my own property! Move!”
Luca didn't hesitate another second. He turned and bolted out of the room.
Meline stared at Vincent, her chest heaving as the terrifying realization washed over her. She hadn't just been hiding from the Castellano family; she had been trapped in a trap set by someone much closer than she ever imagined.
“It wasn't random,” Meline whispered, her voice shaking violently. “The Gilded Vine... Vincent, I didn't pick that restaurant. A recruiter found me on the street six months ago, offered me the job, and made sure I was placed in that specific kitchen.”
Vincent froze. He slowly turned his gaze back to her, his eyes narrowing. “Who hired you?”
“An agency,” Meline said, trying to retrace the hazy memories of that desperate week when she had first fled. “A corporate management firm called Vane Holdings.”
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Vincent’s jaw dropped slightly. A dark, horrifying revelation flashed across his face. “Vane Holdings is a shell corporation owned by Olivia Harrington’s family.”
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