Chapter 3 - The Poison in the Glass
Dr. Hart dropped to his knees beside Damen Romano, opening his leather medical kit with trembling fingers. Anthony stood guard at the threshold, keeping his gun pointed toward the floor, while Nicholas stood near the desk, his eyes darting frantically between his unconscious brother and the giant dog now resting quietly under the little girl's hands.
"He's got a pulse, but it's dangerously slow," Dr. Hart muttered, shining a small penlight into Damen's eyes. "Look at his lips. Blueish tint. He wasn't struck—he was poisoned."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
I knelt beside Ellie, wrapping my arm around her shoulder while keeping one eye on Atlas. The dog didn't move a muscle, but his pale yellow eyes stayed locked on me, accepting my presence only because Ellie’s hands remained soothingly on his neck.
"Poisoned?" Nicholas repeated, his voice rising sharply. "That's impossible! Nobody enters this study except Damen and his personal staff!"
Dr. Hart didn't answer. He injected a clear fluid directly into Damen’s arm through a heavy syringe. "An atropine antidote. It should stabilize his respiratory system, but we need to pump his stomach immediately. Get him onto the sofa."
Anthony immediately stepped forward, grabbing Damen under the shoulders while another guard lifted his legs. As they moved the tall, imposing mob boss onto the dark leather couch, Damen let out a ragged, painful gasp. His eyelids fluttered open.
The first thing Damen Romano saw as he regained consciousness was not his doctor, his brother, or his armed bodyguards.
It was my tiny daughter sitting on the floor, holding his terrifying killer hound by the collar, humming a quiet nursery song.
Damen’s deep, slate-gray eyes lingered on Ellie for a long second before shifting to me. "Mara..." he rasped, his throat rough and dry.
"Don't speak, Mr. Romano," Dr. Hart urged. "You've ingested a severe neurotoxin."
Damen ignored the doctor completely. His sharp gaze slowly scanned the room, landing on his desk. On the heavy mahogany surface stood a single crystal tumbler half-filled with vintage scotch.
"The bottle..." Damen whispered, lifting a heavy hand toward his private bar. "Sealed... ten minutes ago."
Anthony stepped over to the bar and carefully picked up the decanter with a silk handkerchief. "Someone put it directly into the crystal decanter, Boss. Whoever did this knew you always take two fingers of scotch after the morning security briefing."
Nicholas stepped forward, his expression hardening into a cold, defensive mask. "This estate is on lock-down starting right now. Nobody leaves. I want every maid, chef, and guard interrogated in the basement!"
Damen raised his hand slightly, arresting his brother's tirade with a single gesture. Even weakened and lying on a couch, his authority was absolute.
"No basement," Damen murmured, his eyes locking onto Nicholas. "Anthony... search the security footage. Only three people... had access to that bar today."
Nicholas swallowed hard, shifting his weight. "Damen, you're not thinking clearly. Let me handle the family business while you recover."
"I am thinking... perfectly clearly," Damen said, his tone icy. He turned his face toward Ellie. Atlas thumped his heavy tail twice against the hardwood floor—a sound no one in the house had ever heard before.
"The child..." Damen rasped softly. "How did she... calm him?"
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"She sang to him, sir," I whispered, holding Ellie closer. "She hums in the hallway every morning. He remembered her."
Damen looked at Ellie, a dark, complex emotion flickering across his stern, handsome features. "She saved my life," he said quietly. "From now on... she and her mother stay in the main wing. Next to my quarters."
