Chapter 2 - My Son Finally Ate After Fourteen Days—Then the Maid Revealed My Wife Had Been Preparing for Her Murder Before She DiedI didn't sleep that night.
Neither did Clara.
Neither did anyone in the mansion.
Leo remained under observation until sunrise.
For the first time in fourteen days, his body accepted nourishment.
Not formula.
Not donor milk.
Not medicine.
The milk Clara had given him.
Dr. Bennett was stunned.
He tested Leo repeatedly.
The results were undeniable.
Leo's glucose stabilized.
His oxygen improved.
His heart rate became stronger.
His body had finally begun responding.
The doctor looked at Clara.
“Why does he tolerate this?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Dr. Bennett looked at me.
“Mr. Rossi, whatever is happening here, this has bought us time.”
“How much?”
“Possibly days.”
“That's not enough.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“But it may be enough to understand why.”
I looked at Clara.
She stood beside the crib.
She hadn't slept.
Her eyes were red.
“Tell me about my wife.”
Clara looked at the door.
“Not here.”
“Why?”
“Because there are listening devices in this house.”
I stared at her.
“Where?”
She shook her head.
“Everywhere.”
I called Marcus.
My head of security.
He entered within seconds.
“Boss?”
“Search the nursery.”
He frowned.
“For what?”
“Listening devices.”
His expression changed.
“Yes, sir.”
Within twenty minutes, his men discovered three.
One inside the smoke detector.
One behind the wall panel.
One inside a medical cabinet.
My blood ran cold.
“Who installed them?”
Marcus looked at the devices.
“These aren't amateur systems.”
“Whose equipment?”
He hesitated.
“Someone with access to the mansion.”
I turned toward Clara.
She wasn't surprised.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Your wife found them before she died.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“Because she didn't know who she could trust.”
The words hurt.
My wife had been afraid of me.
Or afraid of someone around me.
Either possibility was unbearable.
I dismissed everyone.
Only Clara remained.
She sat across from me in the study.
“You have ten minutes.”
She nodded.
“Your wife hired me because she believed someone was watching her.”
“Who?”
“She didn't know.”
“Then what did she know?”
Clara looked down.
“She knew someone was tampering with Leo's medical records before he was born.”
I stared at her.
“Explain.”
“She noticed inconsistencies.”
“What inconsistencies?”
“Blood tests.”
“Which ones?”
“Her pregnancy tests.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
Clara continued.
“Your wife's medical records showed that she had severe anemia.”
“She did.”
“But her private physician told her otherwise.”
“What?”
“She wasn't severely anemic.”
I stood.
“Then why did the hospital records say she was?”
“Someone changed them.”
I walked to the window.
Rain covered the glass.
“When did Isabella discover this?”
“Two weeks before Leo was born.”
“And then?”
“She started investigating.”
“Alone?”
“At first.”
“Then?”
“She found me.”
“Why?”
“Because my sister worked at the clinic where the records were stored.”
I turned.
“What happened to your sister?”
Clara looked away.
“She disappeared.”
Silence.
“When?”
“Three days before Isabella died.”
My hands curled into fists.
“Why didn't you go to the police?”
“Because the detective assigned to her case was paid by someone in your organization.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe everyone is corrupt?”
“No.”
She looked directly at me.
“I expect you to understand that your family has been infiltrated.”
I stared at her.
“Who do you suspect?”
“Your brother.”
The room went silent.
I almost laughed.
“My brother is dead.”
Clara froze.
“What?”
“Matteo died five years ago.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“He was killed in an ambush.”
“I saw him.”
“Where?”
“Three days before your wife died.”
My heart stopped.
“That's impossible.”
“He came to the mansion.”
“What did he look like?”
“Tall.”
“Yes.”
“Dark hair.”
“Yes.”
“Scar above his left eyebrow.”
My blood turned cold.
Matteo had that scar.
But Matteo was dead.
I had buried him.
I had personally identified his body.
Unless…
Unless the body wasn't his.
I grabbed my phone.
“Marcus.”
He answered immediately.
“Boss?”
“Bring me Matteo's death records.”
“Now.”
I hung up.
Clara watched me.
“What?”
“Your brother isn't the person I'm afraid of.”
“Who then?”
She whispered:
“The man who pretended to be him.”
Marcus returned twenty minutes later.
The records were real.
The body had been identified.
DNA had confirmed it.
But there was one discrepancy.
The DNA sample had been taken from a blood vial stored at a private clinic.
Not from the body.
I stared at the report.
“Who submitted the sample?”
Marcus looked at me.
“Your father.”
My father.
A dead man.
I felt the room closing around me.
My father had died six years earlier.
Or so I believed.
Then Clara reached into her pocket.
She removed a folded piece of paper.
“I was told to give you this if Leo survived the night.”
I opened it.
It was Isabella's handwriting.
Three words.
TRUST THE MAID.
Underneath was a date.
The date my wife died.
And beneath that:
HE IS STILL ALIVE.
I looked at Clara.
“Who?”
May you like
She whispered:
“Your father.”
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