Chapter 3 - The Little Clues
I didn't back down. I forced my heart rate to steady, standing tall despite the cold floor beneath my socks.
"I heard a sound from the boys' room," I said without missing a beat, keeping my voice even. "I came out to check. What brings you here at two in the morning, Dr. Blake? Do you always make house calls in the middle of the night?"
Dr. Blake stepped closer, his physical presence looming over me. "I am the Moretti family physician. I have 24-hour access to this estate because Lucas and Leo require round-the-clock monitoring. Their blood pressure tends to dip in the early morning hours."
"Does it?" I countered, tilting my head. "Or does something else happen in the early morning hours?"
His eyes flashed with a sudden, venomous anger. "Listen to me very carefully, Claire. You are an unqualified interloper playing games in a tragedy you know nothing about. Vincent is desperate, which is the only reason you are in this house. But if you interfere with my treatment protocols, if you disturb those boys or feed Vincent false hope, I will have your credentials revoked so fast you won't even find work walking dogs."
"My credentials are clean, Dr. Blake. My only protocol is keeping those children alive."
"Their survival is my job," he hissed, his face inches from mine. "Stay in your lane."
He brushed past me, deliberately bumping my shoulder, and opened the door to the twins' room. I watched him enter, noting how he closed the door firmly behind him, shutting me out.
I stood in the hall, my fingers curling tightly around the swab hidden in my pocket. He wasn't just defensive. He was panicked. Arrogant men only resort to open threats when their control is threatened.
I retreated to my room, locked the door, and wrapped the cotton swab in a clean plastic ziplock bag I had brought with my toiletries. I had to get this tested. But not through any lab connected to Vincent Moretti, and certainly not through anyone Dr. Blake knew.
***
The next morning, the sun broke through the autumn clouds, spilling golden light across the estate's manicured gardens.
At 8:00 AM, I walked into the boys' room. They were awake, sitting propped against their pillows, looking even paler than the day before. On the bedside table sat two silver trays carrying bowls of oatmeal, glasses of pasteurized apple juice, and two small white paper cups containing colorful prescription pills.
Mrs. Harper was standing near the window, her back turned to the door.
"Good morning, Lucas. Good morning, Leo," I greeted cheerily.
The boys looked up, their eyes brightening just a fraction. "Hi, Claire."
Mrs. Harper turned around, startled. When she saw me, her expression hardened into a defensive mask. "Miss Morgan. Dr. Blake left strict instructions. The boys are to take their medication, eat their breakfast, and remain in bed. He noted an irregular pulse during his night check."
"Dr. Blake isn't their parent," I said pleasantly, walking over to the bedside table. I looked at the little paper cups. "What are these?"
"Prescribed supplements," Mrs. Harper said curtly. "For their iron and immune support."
I didn't touch the pills, but I made a mental note of their shapes and colors: one oblong pale blue tablet, one yellow capsule.
"The weather is sixty-five degrees and sunny," I announced, looking at the boys. "When was the last time you two went outside?"
Lucas blinked. "Last month? Dr. Blake said the pollen might trigger our lungs."
"Fresh air doesn't trigger healing lungs; stale air destroys them," I replied firmly. I looked at Mrs. Harper. "Mrs. Harper, please fetch their warm jackets. We're going down to the solarium terrace."
"I cannot authorize that!" Mrs. Harper’s voice spiked with nervous tension. "If their condition deteriorates, Mr. Moretti will hold me responsible!"
"Then let him hold me responsible," a deep, resonant voice echoed from the doorway.
Vincent stood there, dressed in a crisp navy suit, his tie loosened at the collar. He looked like he hadn't slept, but his gaze was sharp as a razor.
"Vincent," Mrs. Harper breathed, clutching her apron. "Dr. Blake specifically stated—"
"I heard what Dr. Blake stated," Vincent interrupted calmly, stepping into the room. "And I also know that for eleven months, Dr. Blake’s orders have kept my sons confined to this room while they waste away. Claire says outside. So they go outside."
A flash of genuine terror crossed Mrs. Harper’s face before she quickly bowed her head. "Yes, Mr. Moretti."
Twenty minutes later, bundled in thick fleece jackets and wrapped in soft wool blankets, Lucas and Leo were settled on cushioned wicker loungers on the stone terrace overlooking the estate's fountain.
The crisp autumn air was clean, smelling of pine needles, damp earth, and fallen maple leaves.
Within fifteen minutes of sitting under the open sky, away from the bedrooms, something extraordinary happened.
Leo took a deep, shuddering breath, filling his lungs. "Daddy! Look, a blue jay!"
Lucas sat up on his own, without leaning on the pillows. "Can we throw bread to the ducks in the pond?"
Vincent stood against the stone balustrade, holding a cup of black coffee, watching his sons with an expression that almost shattered my composure. The hardened, stoic billionaire had tears swimming in his eyes.
"They haven't pointed at a bird in six months," Vincent whispered as I stepped up beside him. "Claire... what is happening to them?"
"They're suffocating in that house, Vincent," I said softly, dropping the formal honorific. "The moment we brought them out here, their color started returning. Their bodies aren't naturally failing. Something is attacking them."
Vincent turned his head, his gaze boring into mine with dangerous intensity. "What are you saying?"
Before I could answer, the glass terrace doors slid open.
Dr. Blake stepped out, his face crimson with rage, a leather medical ledger tucked under his arm.
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"Vincent!" Blake barked, loud enough to startle the boys. "Have you completely lost your mind? Bring them inside this instant! Exposing their compromised vascular systems to rapid temperature drops is medical suicide!"
***
