Chapter 4 - The Vultures at the Gate
The silence that fell over the master bedroom was so dense that the low hum of the cardiac monitor sounded like an artillery strike.
Julian Wolf’s hand remained frozen over the breast pocket of his coat.
His polished exterior, cultivated through years of high-society galas and corporate boardrooms, was cracking like cheap porcelain.
"This is an outrage," Julian spat, though his voice wavered slightly.
"Are you actually letting a maid in an apron and a disgraced doctor interrogate your own flesh and blood?"
"You aren't my flesh and blood, Julian," Gideon said, his voice dangerously low, each word laced with arsenic.
"You are my father’s late-life mistake with a lounge singer, whom I gave a corner office and a six-figure expense account out of pity."
Julian’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently along his cheek.
"I saved Wolf Logistics from bankruptcy while you were lying in this bed rotting!" Julian snarled.
"You built an empire on paranoia and blood, Gideon! And look at you now—dying like a dog, surrounded by machines, trusting nobody except the help!"
Arthur Sterling, the family trust attorney, cleared his throat nervously, adjusting his gold-rimmed spectacles.
"Mr. Wolf... Julian... perhaps we should step outside and allow the medical professionals to—"
"Nobody is leaving this room," Gideon commanded.
He looked at Luca.
"Take his pen."
"Don't touch me!" Julian shouted, backing toward the door.
"I have private security waiting in the courtyard! If you lay a hand on me, Luca, I'll have you indicted for assault and kidnapping before sunset!"
Luca did not hesitate for a second.
He closed the distance between them in two massive strides, grabbed Julian by the collar of his expensive cashmere coat, spun him around against the mahogany credenza, and smoothly slid the cream-colored fountain pen from his interior pocket.
Luca unscrewed the cap and pressed the gold nib against a clean sheet of white stationery on the side table.
A stroke of deep, luminous sapphire blue ink marked the paper.
It was an unmistakable, identical match to the ink on the poisoned supplement directive.
Mrs. Calder took half a step backward toward the corridor, her hand reaching behind her back for the brass doorknob.
"Mrs. Calder," Norah said without turning her head.
"If you turn that doorknob, Marcus will tackle you into the marble floor."
Mrs. Calder froze, her fingers trembling against the polished brass.
Norah walked slowly toward the housekeeper.
"You've been sending money abroad, haven't you?" Norah asked gently.
"Two weeks ago, while I was cleaning the study, I found an envelope from St. Jude’s Pediatric Hospital in Zurich addressed to you."
"Your granddaughter, isn't she? Seven years old. Diagnosed with rare neuroblastoma."
Mrs. Calder gasped, her weathered face crumpling into pure agony.
She looked at Norah with wide, tear-filled eyes, the cold mask of the stern head housekeeper dissolving entirely.
"How... how could you know that?" Mrs. Calder sobbed.
"Because I know what it looks like when a woman is willing to burn the world down to save her child," Norah said softly, her voice filled with deep, painful empathy.
"I saw my mother look at me that way every time the hospital bills arrived in the mail."
"You didn't want to kill Gideon, did you? But someone offered to pay for Zurich."
Mrs. Calder collapsed to her knees on the Persian rug, weeping uncontrollably into her apron.
Julian’s eyes darted frantically around the room like a caged animal.
"She’s lying! She’s an old senile woman trying to save her own skin!" Julian yelled, his composure completely abandoned.
"Sterling, tell them! The conservatorship petition is already stamped by the county clerk! It doesn't matter what you find in this room! By court order, Gideon Wolf is legally incompetent!"
"The petition requires a physician’s primary clinical signature, does it not?" Dr. Patel interrupted calmly, adjusting his stethoscope around his neck.
Sterling blinked, caught off guard.
"Yes... Dr. Malcolm Voss signed the preliminary assessment—"
"Dr. Voss’s medical license was suspended pending investigation forty-five minutes ago," Patel said, holding up his smartphone.
"I contacted the State Medical Board directly. When I presented the photographic evidence of the concealed contraindication warning and the toxicology report showing lethal digitalis administration under his direct supervision, the board issued an emergency injunction."
"Malcolm Voss cannot legally declare a hamster incompetent, let alone Gideon Wolf."
Julian stumbled back a step, bumping into Marcus’s broad chest.
The massive security guard didn't budge an inch.
Gideon slowly sat up further in bed, the strength returning to his limbs as the IV fluids and antidote began clearing the artificial fog from his brain.
"Sterling," Gideon said, pointing a finger at the terrified attorney.
"Take your petition, tear it into four pieces, and place it in that wastebasket. If you ever show your face on my property again, I will buy your law firm and turn the building into a homeless shelter."
Sterling did not ask questions.
He ripped the parchment into shreds, dropped it into the brass bin, bowed his head, and hurried out the door as fast as his polished oxfords could carry him.
Julian stood alone between the two armed guards, his breathing shallow and rapid.
"You think you won, Gideon?" Julian sneered, his voice dropping into a desperate, hateful rasp.
"You think this stops with me? You think I have the intelligence to synthesize a targeted DNA-specific cardiotoxin?"
Gideon’s eyes narrowed into slits.
"Who gave you the formula, Julian?"
Julian let out a bitter, hysterical laugh.
"You always thought our father loved you best. You thought he built this empire for you."
"He had a third family, Gideon. A family he kept hidden in Boston. And they've been waiting twenty years to take back what you stole."
Before Gideon could demand another word, Julian grabbed a small glass ampoule from his pants pocket and bit down on it with a violent crunch of glass.
"Luca! Stop him!" Norah screamed.
May you like
Luca lunged, grabbing Julian’s jaw, but it was already too late.
A convulsing spasm ripped through Julian’s body, his eyes rolled back, and white froth burst from his lips as he collapsed violently onto the hardwood floor.
