“He’s stable,” the doctor said.
Nora exhaled sharply. Isabella covered her mouth.
Lucia did not move. “But?”
Santoro looked at her. “But the bloodwork is wrong. Tonight’s dose was nearly fatal, but there are older markers in his system. Liver strain. Kidney stress. Metabolites that don’t come from one exposure.”
Marco’s voice was flat. “How long?”
“Weeks,” Santoro said. “Whoever did this tonight has been poisoning him slowly for a while.”
The room went silent.
Annie’s small hand slid into the pocket of her sweater. “I found something,” she said.
Every adult turned.
She pulled out a folded square of white paper. One corner had been torn away. A faint dust clung to the crease.
“I took it from the kitchen trash,” Annie said. “I thought somebody might need it.”
Dr. Santoro crossed the room so fast Nora flinched. He took the paper with gloved fingers and sealed it in a sterile evidence bag.
Lucia bent toward Annie and placed one cold, ringed hand against the child’s cheek. “Brave girl,” she whispered.
At three forty in the morning, Gabriel woke.
His chest hurt. His throat tasted like metal. His mother was sitting beside him, still wearing black silk.
“What did you tell me at dinner?” he asked.
Lucia’s eyes narrowed. “I told you to listen to the child.”
“And what did I do?”
“You behaved like a proud fool in front of other proud fools.”
Gabriel closed his eyes. “Fair.”
The door opened. Marco entered with a tablet. “Boss, we pulled six weeks of your schedule. You canceled morning runs four times. Migraines. Fatigue. You signed documents on nights you don’t remember signing anything. You told us it was stress.”
“It wasn’t stress,” Gabriel said.
“No.”
Gabriel stared at the ceiling. Then he said, “Bring her in.”
A minute later, Annie stepped into the hospital room with Nora behind her. She still held the teddy bear. Without her red shoes, she looked even smaller.
Gabriel forced himself upright. “Don’t,” Santoro snapped from the doorway. Gabriel ignored him.