Chapter 2 - THE POISON IN THE NURSERY
"Put the guns away!"
My voice cracked across the enormous kitchen.
Nobody moved.
Six security guards stood with their weapons drawn. Three housekeepers were pressed against the marble counter. Adrian Vale stood in the middle of them, his face transformed into something terrifying.
But I wasn't looking at Adrian.
I was looking at Lucas.
His tiny body had begun trembling again.
"Dr. Bennett!" I shouted. "He's getting worse!"
The pediatrician hurried toward me, already reaching for his medical bag.
"Adrian, call the ambulance. Now."
Adrian didn't move.
"Nobody touches my son until I know who did this."
I stared at him.
"Your son needs a hospital, not an interrogation!"
Something in my voice finally reached him.
He looked down at Lucas.
And the ruthless man everyone feared disappeared again.
"Call the ambulance," he ordered.
Within minutes, the estate's private driveway filled with emergency vehicles.
Dr. Bennett checked Lucas's breathing and circulation while I held his small hand. The reddish substance around his mouth had been collected on a sterile swab. His bottle, the water container, and everything used to prepare his feeds were secured for testing.
Nobody knew whether he had swallowed something harmful.
Nobody even knew what the substance was.
But we all understood that a fragile newborn could deteriorate frighteningly quickly.
As the paramedics prepared to leave, Adrian approached.
"I'm coming."
"So am I," I answered.
He stared at me.
"You're exhausted."
"Then you can tell me to sleep when he's safe."
For once, Adrian Vale did not argue.
At the hospital, Lucas was admitted to the pediatric intensive care unit.
I sat beside his incubator while specialists examined him.
Dr. Bennett returned after a tense discussion with the medical team.
"His condition is stable for now," he said. "The laboratory is testing the samples. We shouldn't assume this was deliberate poisoning until we know what happened."
Adrian stood by the window.
"Somebody put something near his mouth."
"Possibly," Dr. Bennett replied. "But we need evidence."
Adrian turned toward him.
"Find it."
The doctor did not flinch.
"We will do everything medically appropriate. But I won't invent an answer because you're frightened."
I expected Adrian to explode.
Instead, he closed his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
Those two words surprised me.
They sounded like they had been dragged out of him.
Near midnight, Adrian entered the small waiting room where I sat drinking terrible hospital coffee.
He placed a sandwich on the table.
"You haven't eaten."
"Neither have you."
He sat across from me.
For a while, we listened to the vending machine humming.
Then he asked, "Did your daughter look like him?"
My fingers tightened around the paper cup.
"Grace?"
He nodded.
I looked toward the hallway.
"She had dark hair. A very small nose. Her fingers were so tiny that my wedding ring would have slipped over her whole hand."
Adrian said nothing.
"She was born too early. The doctors did everything they could. I held her while she died."
My voice broke.
"I still wake up thinking I hear her."
Adrian looked down.
"Isabel died six hours after Lucas was born."
"I'm sorry."
"She was talking to me. She was holding him. Then something happened."
"What?"
"Her blood pressure collapsed. They tried to save her."
I watched him.
"Did the doctors explain why?"
"They said she developed a sudden complication."
"Did you believe them?"
His silence was answer enough.
He stood abruptly.
Before leaving, he turned toward me.
"Hannah, someone is trying to take everything I have left."
I looked toward Lucas's room.
"Then we find out who."
At four in the morning, Dr. Bennett returned.
His expression was grave.
"The preliminary laboratory results are concerning."
Adrian rose immediately.
"What did you find?"
"An unexpected medication residue. We need confirmatory testing to determine its source and significance."
My stomach dropped.
Adrian gripped the chair.
"Someone gave my son medication he wasn't prescribed?"
"That's one possibility. The investigation must establish how it got there."
Adrian looked at me.
Then his phone rang.
His security chief, Marcus Rourke, was calling.
Adrian answered.
"What?"
His face became expressionless.
"Where?"
A pause.
"Secure the room. Touch nothing else."
He hung up.
I stood.
"What happened?"
Adrian looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said, "They found another bottle in Isabel's private bedroom."
My heart stopped.
"Another bottle?"
"The same reddish residue was on the rim."
I stared at him.
His wife had been dead for weeks.
Lucas had nearly died that morning.
And something from Isabel's untouched bedroom appeared to connect both events.
May you like
Adrian's next words made the hair rise along my arms.
"That room has been locked since the night she died."
