Chapter 3 - The Patient Who Refused to Trust His Own Family
Vincent's condition improved for exactly thirty-six hours.
Then his blood pressure crashed.
The doctors rushed in.
Anna was cleaning the hallway when she heard the alarms.
She stepped aside.
Doctors ran past.
Luca shouted orders.
Vincent's monitor began screaming.
Anna saw one of the nurses connect a new medication.
Something about the vial caught her eye.
She froze.
Not again.
She stepped forward.
“Wait.”
The nurse turned.
“What?”
“That one.”
Everyone looked.
Anna pointed.
“That's the same manufacturer.”
The nurse frowned.
“It's supposed to be.”
“Then why is the lot number different?”
The room went silent.
Dr. Walsh snatched the vial.
She checked the chart.
Her face hardened.
“This is not ordered.”
The nurse went pale.
“I received it from pharmacy.”
“Who signed for it?”
The nurse checked.
“Marcus Costa.”
Vincent's eyes opened.
Weakly.
He looked toward the doorway.
Anna stood there.
Marcus was nowhere to be seen.
Security searched the estate.
He had disappeared.
Vincent ordered the gates locked.
Every account frozen.
Every employee questioned.
Anna expected to be fired.
Instead, Vincent called her into his study.
“You were right again.”
“I don't want to be right.”
He smiled faintly.
“Neither do I.”
She stood.
“What happened?”
“Someone inside my family is trying to kill me.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
“Because you're the only person who noticed twice.”
Anna hesitated.
“That doesn't make me special.”
“It makes you useful.”
She frowned.
“I don't want to be useful to criminals.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You think that's what I am?”
“I don't know.”
He was quiet.
Then he answered:
“Yes.”
She didn't expect honesty.
“I don't understand.”
“I don't need you to.”
“You said you're a criminal.”
“I am.”
“Then why am I helping you?”
“Because you helped a dying man.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“It should be.”
Something about the answer stayed with her.
Vincent ordered his security team to review every employee record.
They discovered something terrifying.
Someone had accessed Anna's file six months earlier.
Her mother's old hospital employment records.
Her brother's address.
Her college information.
Someone had been watching her long before Vincent's poisoning.
“Why?” Anna asked.
Vincent didn't know.
Then a former Costa employee contacted him.
Her name was Sofia Marin.
She had worked for Vincent's father.
She claimed Anna's mother had once been connected to the Costa family.
Anna stared.
“My mother?”
Sofia nodded.
“She was a nurse.”
“No.”
“She was.”
“My mother cleaned hospital rooms.”
“She did both.”
Sofia revealed that twenty-six years earlier, Anna's mother had worked in a private clinic funded by the Costa family.
One night, she treated a badly injured man.
That man was Vincent's father.
He survived.
But Anna's mother saw something she wasn't supposed to.
She saw financial records.
Names.
Payments.
And a secret ledger.
Sofia told Anna:
“Your mother tried to expose it.”
“What happened?”
“She disappeared for six months.”
Anna felt sick.
“She came back pregnant with you.”
Vincent stared.
“What?”
Sofia looked at him.
“Your mother knew something about your father.”
“What?”
“She knew who betrayed him.”
Vincent's face changed.
“Who?”
Sofia looked afraid.
“Your uncle.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
His uncle had supposedly died years earlier.
But now there was evidence he had survived.
The same man might have been behind the recent attacks.
Anna couldn't breathe.
“My mother never told me.”
“She was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From the Costa family.”
The room became silent.
Vincent turned to Anna.
“Did your mother ever mention my father?”
“No.”
“Did she ever say the name Salvatore Costa?”
Anna thought.
Then remembered.
A story.
Her mother had told her once when she was little.
A man with kind eyes helped me when I was young.
Anna had never understood.
Now she did.
Her mother's past was tied to Vincent's.
Not romantically.
Dangerously.
Dr. Walsh entered.
“Vincent.”
He looked up.
“We have the test results.”
“What?”
“Your blood work wasn't failing because of the blast.”
Vincent went still.
“What then?”
“You were exposed to something before the explosion.”
Anna looked at him.
Poison.
The bomb had been the distraction.
The real attack had started earlier.
Someone had been poisoning Vincent for months.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Enough to make his death look natural.
Anna's stomach turned.
“How did nobody catch it?”
Dr. Walsh answered:
“Because the dose was tiny.”
Anna whispered:
“And the medication made it worse.”
Dr. Walsh nodded.
Vincent looked at Anna.
“The doctors were treating symptoms.”
Anna said quietly:
“And nobody checked what caused them.”
He stared.
She had said it without judgment.
But it hit him.
His entire family had been treating him like a problem to manage.
Nobody had asked why he was sick.
Except the maid.
That night, Vincent couldn't sleep.
Anna was sitting outside his room, filling out the medication chart.
He called her.
She entered.
“Yes?”
“Stay.”
She hesitated.
“For how long?”
“Until I fall asleep.”
She sat.
Neither spoke.
After several minutes, Vincent said:
“You aren't afraid of me anymore.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
“But I'm more afraid of whoever is doing this.”
He looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because they hurt you while everyone watched.”
His voice became quiet.
“I'm not worth that.”
She frowned.
“Don't say that.”
“You don't know me.”
“I know enough.”
“How?”
“You thanked me.”
He almost smiled.
“That is your standard?”
“It's a start.”
He looked at her.
And for the first time in years, Vincent felt something other than suspicion.
He felt safe.
May you like
That frightened him.
Because safety had become the rarest thing in his world.
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