Chapter 4 - The Deadly Prescription
By the end of my second week at the estate, I had established an ironclad routine. I personally received every delivery, checked every seal, and logged every microgram of medication that went into Mrs. Russo's body. She was regaining her color and her strength, much to the visible annoyance of Marcus and Elena, who hovered around the estate like vultures waiting for a feast.
It was a Tuesday afternoon when the private pharmacy courier arrived with a restock of Mrs. Russo's specialized blood thinners. I signed for the package, took it directly to the sterile prep room, and popped the cap. Immediately, my instincts flared. The cotton packing felt slightly too dense. I tipped the pills into my gloved palm. They were perfectly manufactured, bearing the correct pharmaceutical stamp, but the color was a fraction of a shade too chalky. Having spent years in emergency care, I knew the physical weight and texture of standard medications. These were wrong.
Without hesitation, I placed the pills into a sterile specimen bag, bypassed the estate's internal security protocols, and marched directly up to the third floor—Antonio’s private wing. I didn't knock. I pushed the heavy oak doors open to find him in a tense meeting with three lawyers. They all froze as I stormed in.
"Get out," I told the lawyers, my voice trembling with a mixture of rage and adrenaline. They looked at Antonio, who simply nodded. Once the doors clicked shut, I threw the plastic bag onto his pristine desk. "Have your private lab test these immediately. Do not use the estate doctors. Use someone entirely outside of Chicago."
Antonio stood up, his jaw clenching as he looked at the bag. "What did you find?"
"They were delivered as your mother's blood thinners. But they're not. I suspect they're a high-dose beta-blocker cocktail designed to mimic a natural cardiac arrest. If I had given her tonight's dose, she would have been dead by morning, and any coroner would have ruled it natural causes."
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The air in the office turned instantly lethal. Antonio didn't yell. He didn't throw anything. Instead, a terrifying, icy calm washed over him. He picked up his secure phone and dialed a single number. "Get the chopper ready on the roof. We leave in twenty minutes." He looked up at me, his eyes dark with a violent promise of retribution. "Pack her bags, Sophie. And pack yours. We are disappearing."
KIDNAPPED BY THE BILLIONAIRE? OUR SECRET FLIGHT FROM THE ASSASSINS!
