Chapter 2 - THE TABLET IN THE SHADOWS

"Not you."

Dominic Romano’s voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a cold, cutting edge that instantly froze the air in the corridor. He didn't look at his beautiful fiancée. His gray eyes remained fixed entirely on the small, black electronic tablet resting inside the bedside cabinet.

Victoria’s manicured hand stopped mere inches from the device.

The color had completely drained from her face, leaving her expensive foundation looking like a pale mask. She slowly pulled her hand back, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.

"Dominic, darling," Victoria said, forcing a brittle laugh that echoed unnaturally in the vast hallway. "I was only trying to help. That old tablet has been broken for months. It’s practically garbage. The nurses said it frustrated him to look at it."

"Then why was it hidden beneath a sweater?" Dominic asked, his gaze finally shifting to her.

Victoria swallowed hard. "I—I suppose one of the maids put it there while cleaning."

"I clean this room," I said, my voice trembling but surprisingly loud. I rested my hand protectively over my pregnant stomach. "I have never seen that tablet before. The only things in that cabinet were extra blankets."

Victoria whipped her head toward me, her eyes flashing with pure venom. "You are a thief and a liar. You’ve been stealing his medication, and now you’re trying to cast blame to save your own miserable skin!"

Before I could defend myself, Dominic raised a hand, silencing her instantly. He gestured to one of his towering security guards.

"Rocco. Get the tablet."

The enormous guard stepped forward, gingerly retrieving the black device. He handed it to Dominic. The screen was cracked in the corner, and when Dominic pressed the power button, nothing happened. The battery was completely dead.

Dominic looked down at his father. The paramedics had paused their stretcher, watching the familial drama unfold with wide eyes. Antonio’s frail, trembling hand was still gripping the edge of my gray cotton uniform sleeve. The old man looked exhausted, hovering on the very edge of consciousness, but his dark eyes were locked onto mine.

He wasn't looking at his son. He was looking at the maid.

"Take him to the private clinic," Dominic ordered the medical team. "Not the county hospital. My personal doctors will receive him. Rocco, you ride in the ambulance. Nobody touches my father without my express authorization. Nobody."

As the paramedics rushed Antonio away, the heavy silence of the mansion crashed back down upon us.

"Mrs. Whitmore," Dominic said softly.

The severe household supervisor stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her gray uniform. "Yes, Mr. Romano."

"Why was my father's door locked from the outside?"

Mrs. Whitmore’s eyes darted toward Victoria for a fraction of a second—a microscopic movement, but I saw it. Dominic saw it, too.

"For his own safety, sir," Mrs. Whitmore said smoothly. "His dementia causes him to wander. He almost fell down the east staircase last month."

"My father hasn't been able to stand without assistance since October," Dominic stated, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "If you lock that door again, I will personally throw you down that staircase. Do you understand?"

Mrs. Whitmore turned ashen. "Yes, sir."

"Lock down the estate," Dominic commanded his remaining guards. "The gates do not open. Nobody leaves this property. Not the staff, not the drivers." He turned his piercing gaze toward Victoria. "And not you."

Victoria gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. "Dominic! You can't be serious. I have a fitting for my wedding dress in Manhattan this afternoon!"

"Cancel it."

Dominic didn't wait for her response. He turned his attention to me. I was shaking, the physical toll of the morning's adrenaline catching up with my heavily pregnant body. A sharp pain twinged in my lower back, causing me to wince.

"You," Dominic said, stepping closer to me. Up close, he smelled of expensive cologne and cold winter air. "You're coming to my office."

"I need to call the hospital," I stammered, terrified. "My mother is a patient in Albany. I have to call and check on her. Please, if you're firing me, just let me pack my things."

"I'm not firing you," Dominic said. "My father held onto your arm as if you were his only lifeline. A man who has spent his life swimming with sharks does not cling to a stranger unless she has proven herself. Come with me."

Ten minutes later, I was sitting in a plush leather armchair in Dominic’s sprawling, mahogany-lined private office. A fire crackled in the massive stone hearth, casting dancing shadows across the walls.

Dominic sat behind his massive desk, plugging the dead tablet into a charging cable.

"Tell me everything you saw," he demanded. "Don't leave out a single detail."

I took a deep breath, clutching a glass of water a guard had brought me. I told him about the untouched meal trays. I told him about the frantic tapping against the locked door. I told him about the days I had sneaked in to feed Antonio, to give him water, and to talk to him.

"He understands everything, Mr. Romano," I said softly. "His body is failing, but his mind is perfectly sharp. He listens. He reacts. He cries."

Dominic looked down at his hands, his knuckles turning white. He had believed the doctors who told him his father was fading into the fog of dementia. He had trusted the people under his own roof.

"The medication found in your cart," Dominic said. "Did you take it?"

"No," I swore, tears pricking my eyes. "I only make four hundred dollars a week here, Mr. Romano. I need every penny to keep my mother in her cardiac rehab program. If I get arrested, my mother dies, and my baby goes into foster care. I would never risk stealing."

Dominic studied my face, assessing the truth in my desperation. In his world, everyone lied. But desperation was a language he understood.

Suddenly, the tablet on his desk chimed. The screen flickered to life.

Dominic picked it up. His fingers moved quickly over the screen. Antonio had used a specialized app that translated his clumsy keystrokes into legible sentences.

Dominic opened the most recent saved draft. It had been written three weeks ago, but never sent.

I watched Dominic's face change. The cold, calculated mafia boss vanished, replaced by a son experiencing a profound, sickening shock.

"Answer One, Open Two," my grandmother used to say. We had found the tablet to prove Antonio's mind was sound, but what the tablet contained was far worse.

"What does it say?" I whispered.

Dominic slowly turned the tablet around so I could see the screen.

The message read: Victoria is not acting alone. Look at the silver money clip. They are trying to stop my heart.

"The silver money clip," Dominic murmured, his voice hollow.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"My Uncle Carlo," Dominic said, staring blankly at the wall. "My father’s brother. He has carried a custom-engraved silver money clip every day for thirty years. My father is saying his own brother is orchestrating his murder."

Before I could process the magnitude of the betrayal, the heavy oak doors of the office burst open.

It was Rocco, the head of security. He looked out of breath, a rare sight for the hardened giant.

"Boss," Rocco panted, stepping into the room. "You need to come to the greenhouse right now."

"I gave orders for a lockdown, Rocco," Dominic snapped.

"I know, Boss," Rocco said, his eyes darting toward me before landing back on Dominic. "But Mrs. Whitmore is down. We found her collapsed behind the orchids. She's completely unresponsive. And Boss..."

Rocco stepped forward and placed something heavy and metallic onto Dominic's mahogany desk.

"She was clutching this in her right hand."