Chapter 2 - THE TWO PILLS
Lucian did not ask Elena to explain in the ballroom.
That was the first thing she respected.
He dismissed the guests.
Not dramatically.
No shouted threats.
No locked gates.
He simply said:
“This evening is over.”
Nobody argued.
Not even Julian.
Vivienne did not return.
Within twenty minutes, black cars were moving down the long circular drive.
The quartet packed silently.
Caterers cleared untouched champagne.
And Lucian had Marco move him into the library.
Only four people were allowed inside.
Lucian.
Elena.
Marco.
And Sylvester Bell, the seventy-one-year-old estate administrator who had served the Reyes family since before Lucian was born.
Elena stood near the fireplace.
Lucian looked at her.
“Start from the beginning.”
So she did.
Three months earlier.
The first pill.
It had rolled beneath the nightstand while she was changing linens.
Small.
Pale yellow.
Scored once.
At first she assumed it had fallen from his evening medication.
Then she checked the list.
It matched nothing.
She placed it in a labeled specimen pouch according to normal medication-error procedure.
The second appeared two weeks later.
Same shape.
Same color.
Inside his Sunday pill organizer.
“Who filled it?” Lucian asked.
Elena hesitated.
“You know.”
“Say it.”
“Vivienne.”
Marco swore quietly.
Lucian did not react.
“How do you know?”
“She told me herself.”
One afternoon Vivienne had insisted Elena stop “hovering” and said:
“I can handle my fiancé’s vitamins.”
At the time, Elena thought she was being territorial.
Now?
Maybe not.
Lucian asked:
“Did you test them?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a nurse, not a forensic laboratory.”
Good.
“And because I had no legal right to send your medication for private testing without authorization.”
Lucian nodded.
Again, no anger.
Then Elena explained the pharmacy call.
His official prescription profile did not include the tablets.
“What do you think they are?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could they affect my recovery?”
“Depending on what they are, maybe.”
She held his gaze.
“But I’m not guessing.”
That answer saved the room from becoming a witch hunt.
Lucian turned to Marco.
“Get independent toxicology.”
Marco nodded.
“Not Wolfe.”
“No.”
Then Elena told him about the photograph.
For the first time, Lucian’s expression truly changed.
“Wolfe and Vivienne?”
“Yes.”
“Before my crash?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“My apartment.”
“And Elias Mercer?”
Sylvester closed his eyes.
Lucian looked at him.
“You know him.”
Sylvester said nothing.
“Sylvester.”
The older man sat heavily.
“Elias Mercer was your father’s mechanic.”
Lucian stared.
“My father didn’t have a mechanic.”
“He had several.”
“Who was Mercer?”
“The one he trusted.”
“And?”
Sylvester looked toward Elena.
Then back.
“Mercer worked for Reyes Transport for almost twenty years.”
“What happened to him?”
“He disappeared.”
“When?”
“Eleven years ago.”
Lucian’s voice lowered.
“Why?”
Sylvester took a long breath.
“Because he told your father somebody was manipulating maintenance records on company vehicles.”
The room went silent.
Lucian’s crash had involved a failure in the steering assembly of his armored SUV.
The official investigation concluded a manufacturing defect.
No foul play.
At least publicly.
Lucian whispered:
“Who was manipulating records?”
“Mercer never said.”
“Why not?”
“He wanted proof.”
“Did he get it?”
“We don’t know.”
“What happened to him?”
“His apartment was emptied.”
“Bank account untouched.”
“Car found near O’Hare.”
“No body.”
Lucian sat very still.
Eleven years.
Then:
“Why was his name on Vivienne’s photograph?”
Sylvester looked genuinely frightened.
“I don’t know.”
Lucian turned toward Elena.
“Bring me everything tomorrow.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Marco stared.
Sylvester almost smiled.
Lucian’s eyes hardened.
“Excuse me?”
“We document chain of custody first.”
Elena crossed her arms.
“If those pills matter, I’m not carrying them across Chicago in my purse because you’re impatient.”
Marco looked away to hide amusement.
Lucian stared at her for several seconds.
Then:
“Fine.”
“Independent counsel?”
“Yes.”
“Independent toxicology?”
“Yes.”
“And a photographed transfer log.”
Lucian’s mouth tightened.
“You enjoy ordering me around.”
“No.”
“I enjoy not ruining evidence.”
He almost smiled.
Then pain moved across his face.
Subtle.
Elena noticed.
“Your back?”
“My left hip.”
“Since the fall?”
“Worse.”
“We should image it.”
“No hospital.”
“Then private mobile imaging.”
“No Wolfe.”
“Obviously.”
He sighed.
“Fine.”
Within an hour, a medical team unrelated to Dr. Wolfe arrived.
Nothing fractured.
Bruising.
Pain.
Humiliation.
And one unexpected finding.
Lucian’s blood pressure was lower than usual.
Not dangerous.
But abnormal.
Elena checked his pulse again.
Then asked:
“When did you last take medication?”
“Before dinner.”
“Who gave it to you?”
Lucian looked toward the door.
“Vivienne.”
Elena’s stomach dropped.
“What did she give you?”
“My usual evening pills.”
“Did you see them?”
“No.”
Of course.
Because powerful men can be just as careless with trust as anyone else.
Elena contacted the physician leading the independent team.
Blood and urine samples were taken.
No immediate accusations.
No dramatic antidotes.
Just testing.
At 3:18 the next morning, preliminary screening showed something that should not have been there.
A sedating anti-anxiety medication.
Lucian had no current prescription for it.
Elena stared at the report.
The dose was not enough to prove poisoning.
Could it have been old medication?
Possibly.
Could someone have made a medication error?
Possibly.
Could it contribute to fatigue, slowed reaction, dizziness, and poor rehabilitation performance?
Yes.
Lucian read the page twice.
Then whispered:
“For how long?”
Nobody knew.
That was the terrifying part.
Because the last eight weeks of his medical records repeatedly described him as:
Fatigued.
Unmotivated.
Cognitively slowed.
Emotionally unstable.
All language Dr. Wolfe had used to recommend that Lucian temporarily surrender business control.
Elena looked at Lucian.
He understood at exactly the same moment.
May you like
The medication was not necessarily designed to kill him.
It may have been designed to make everyone believe he was no longer capable of ruling anything.
