Chapter 5 - Someone Inside the House Was Watching
The traitor’s name was Dr. Stephen Calder.
Norah didn’t understand at first.
“Your doctor?”
Vincent said nothing.
That silence confirmed it.
Dr. Calder had treated Vincent after the poisoning.
He had supervised his recovery.
Prescribed medication.
Reviewed blood tests.
Recommended diets.
And, most importantly, told everyone that Vincent’s inability to eat was purely psychological.
Enzo returned with Daniel shortly before sunrise.
Norah ran across the foyer.
Her brother looked nothing like the man she remembered.
He had lost weight.
His beard was overgrown.
A bruise darkened one cheek.
But he was alive.
“Danny.”
He collapsed into her arms.
“I’m sorry.”
Norah held him.
For months she had imagined what she would say if he returned.
She had rehearsed anger.
Accusations.
Questions.
None survived the moment.
She simply held him.
Vincent watched from several feet away.
Daniel eventually noticed him.
Fear crossed his face.
“Mr. Rossy.”
Vincent nodded.
“Sit down.”
They moved into the study.
Daniel told them everything.
He had borrowed $8,700.
When he could not pay, Marco recruited him for small jobs.
Deliver packages.
Drive cars.
Ask no questions.
Then Daniel overheard Marco discussing Vincent’s poisoning.
He panicked.
He ran.
But Marco discovered Daniel had a sister.
Norah.
They inflated the debt and began collecting from her.
Months later, Dr. Calder learned where Norah worked.
He saw an opportunity.
A desperate woman could be pushed into the estate without attracting suspicion.
Calder arranged the transfer through Marco.
“But why would your doctor want you dead?” Norah asked.
Vincent’s face was grim.
Daniel answered.
“Because the first poisoning didn’t stop.”
Silence.
Norah turned.
“What?”
Daniel looked at Vincent.
“Calder kept giving you something.”
Vincent’s eyes hardened.
“In my medication?”
Daniel nodded.
“Tiny amounts. Not enough to kill you fast.”
Norah felt cold.
The nausea.
The metallic taste.
The weakness.
The inability to recover.
Everyone believed Vincent’s body was traumatized.
But what if his body had been warning him correctly?
Vincent stood so abruptly his chair moved backward.
“My medication.”
Enzo understood.
He left.
They found the bottles in Vincent’s bathroom.
A toxicologist tested them.
By afternoon, they had confirmation.
One of Vincent’s daily supplements contained trace quantities of a compound designed to irritate his stomach and prolong neurological symptoms.
Not enough to recreate the original poisoning.
Enough to prevent full recovery.
Norah sat beside Vincent when the results arrived.
He read the report once.
Then placed it down.
His hands were perfectly still.
“That’s why.”
Norah understood.
“Why you couldn’t eat.”
He nodded.
“It wasn’t all in your head.”
“No.”
For six months Vincent had been told his fear was the problem.
That his damaged mind was rejecting safe food.
Yet his body had continued receiving something harmful from the person trusted to heal him.
Norah felt furious for him.
Vincent felt something more complicated.
Relief.
Rage.
Vindication.
And fear.
Because if his instincts had been right about Calder, how could he ever learn to ignore them again?
Norah reached for the report.
“Why could you eat my food?”
Vincent looked at her.
She thought it through.
“Calder controlled your medications. The chefs followed his diet plans. Supplements went into smoothies, drinks, fortified meals…”
“But not yours.”
“My broth was never supposed to be yours.”
The answer landed between them.
The first meal Vincent had tolerated was the only meal nobody had planned.
It had been made from scraps by a hungry cleaner for herself.
No special supplements.
No medical powder.
No expensive fortified stock.
Nothing Calder could touch.
Vincent leaned back.
The simple bowl had not magically cured him.
It had been clean.
And because it reminded him of childhood, he had trusted it long enough to discover that.
Norah whispered, “Your body knew.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
For six months he had hated himself for weakness that had never entirely belonged to him.
When he opened them again, something had changed.
“Where is Calder?”
Enzo answered from the doorway.
“Gone.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“He didn’t report to the clinic today. His house is empty.”
“Find him.”
“We’re trying.”
Daniel cleared his throat.
“There’s something else.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Calder has records.”
“What records?” Vincent asked.
“Payments. Names. Everything Salvatore’s people did.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know exactly. But I heard him tell Marco that if anything happened, the files would protect him.”
Vincent considered this.
Calder had not merely participated.
He had insured himself.
Which meant he might try to bargain.
Norah’s phone rang that evening.
Not unknown this time.
Dr. Stephen Calder.
Vincent looked at her.
“Answer.”
Norah did.
“Hello?”
Calder sounded calm.
“Miss Bennett.”
Her skin crawled.
“You used me.”
“I gave you employment.”
“You threatened my brother.”
“That was Marco’s enthusiasm.”
“Where are you?”
A quiet laugh.
“Beside the point.”
Vincent gestured for her to keep him talking.
Calder continued.
“I understand Mr. Rossy has made an impressive recovery.”
Norah looked directly at Vincent.
“He’s stronger than you thought.”
“I know. Thanks to you.”
“What do you want?”
“Protection.”
“From whom?”
“Everyone.”
Norah almost laughed.
“You poisoned a mafia boss and now you want protection?”
“I treated a patient according to instructions imposed by dangerous men.”
“You expect anyone to believe that?”
“I have evidence.”
Vincent’s gaze sharpened.
“Then bring it.”
Calder became silent.
Norah realized she had spoken as though Vincent were listening.
Calder realized it too.
“Hello, Vincent.”
Vincent took the phone.
“Stephen.”
“You look healthier, I assume.”
“You’ll see for yourself.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Then why call?”
“Because Salvatore was not the top of this.”
Vincent went still.
Norah watched him.
Calder continued.
“He answered to someone else.”
“Name.”
“No.”
“Then this conversation is over.”
“I have ledgers, recordings, accounts.”
“Name.”
“A trade, Vincent.”
“What trade?”
“My files for safe passage.”
Vincent looked at Enzo.
Enzo was already tracing the call.
“Where?”
Calder gave an address.
An abandoned private clinic outside the city.
Midnight.
One person.
No weapons.
Vincent almost smiled.
“You’ve known me seven years, Stephen. You should know better than to give me rules.”
Calder’s voice tightened.
“Midnight.”
The call ended.
Norah grabbed Vincent’s arm.
“You’re not going alone.”
He looked down at her hand.
Then at her.
“You’re definitely not going.”
“This involves me.”
“No.”
“You’re doing the thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Saying no like you’re God.”
Daniel looked between them.
Enzo muttered, “Welcome to my life.”
Vincent ignored him.
“This man poisoned me for months. He manipulated you and kidnapped your brother.”
“Exactly.”
“Which is why you stay here.”
Norah’s jaw tightened.
“You trusted me when you couldn’t trust a plate of food.”
Vincent froze.
“Trust me now.”
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Vincent exhaled.
“You stay in the car.”
Norah smiled faintly.
“I’ve heard that before.”
At 11:57 p.m., their vehicles stopped outside the abandoned clinic.
The building was dark.
Vincent stepped out.
Norah remained in the SUV.
For exactly forty seconds.
Then a light appeared in an upstairs window.
And Norah saw a silhouette.
Not Calder.
Someone else.
Someone she recognized from the Rossy mansion.
She grabbed the radio.
“Vincent, stop.”
Static.
She tried again.
“Vincent!”
No response.
Through the clinic window, the figure turned.
Norah finally saw his face clearly.
Her blood ran cold.
Because Dr. Calder had not been the only person inside Vincent’s home helping the conspiracy.
May you like
And the second traitor was standing directly behind him.
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