Chapter 6 - The Woman I Was Supposed to Marry
Camilla Bellini had always liked parties.
She liked rooms where everyone turned when she entered. She liked champagne poured by men wearing white gloves and photographers pretending not to wait for her smile. She liked the small violence of social hierarchy: who was seated beside whom, whose name appeared first, who was invited through the private entrance and who had to stand in line.
So when she insisted on hosting our engagement gala two weeks before the wedding, I agreed.
Not because I wanted a party.
Because liars become careless when they believe they are performing for an audience they control.
The gala filled the Moretti estate with four hundred guests, three orchestras, two dozen waiters, and enough armed men to start a small war.
Nico hated every second.
"Too many entrances," he said.
"That is why we are doing it here."
"Too many Bellini people."
"That is why we are doing it here."
"Too many civilians."
"Nico."
"Fine. But if you get poisoned, I am telling Elena I warned you."
I adjusted my cuff.
"You are afraid of Elena?"
"Have you seen the way she looks at people when she is angry?"
"Yes."
"Then do not ask stupid questions."
He left to check the security teams.
I stood alone in my dressing room and looked at myself in the mirror.
Black tuxedo. White shirt. Family ring. No tie pin, because my mother had hated tie pins.
My father would have approved of the evening.
That thought made me feel ill.
He had built his life around the idea that control could save a family. In the end, control had not even saved him from his own brother.
A knock sounded.
Elena entered carrying a garment bag.
She was not in uniform.
Camilla had ordered the senior household staff to dress formally for the gala, a decision she considered generous because it allowed servants to resemble guests without ever becoming them.
Elena wore a dark green dress Mrs. Greco had lent her. It was simple. Long sleeves. No jewelry except her wedding ring, still on her right hand three years after Tomas's death.
I forgot what I was about to say.
She noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You are staring."
"I am looking."
"Those are synonyms."
"Not always."
Color rose slightly in her cheeks.
She held out the garment bag.
"Nico found this in the staff delivery entrance. It was marked for your room."
Inside was a replacement dress shirt from my tailor.
I had not ordered one.
Nico had already cut open the collar seam.
Hidden inside was a tiny glass capsule.
Dr. Pell's fingerprints were on the outer wrapping.
The capsule contained concentrated digitalis.
Camilla's plan was becoming clearer.
Someone would break the capsule into a drink, medication, or food. My known "heart condition" would explain the collapse. The forged medical records would complete the story.
I looked at Elena.
"You should not be carrying this."
"It is sealed in three bags. Nico gave it to me because he is dealing with the caterer's truck."
"Where is Sophia?"
"With Mrs. Greco in the nursery suite. Four guards. Two cameras. One very angry old Italian woman with a rolling pin."
"The rolling pin may be the strongest layer."
Elena almost smiled.
Then she looked at the capsule.
"They really are going to do it tonight, aren't they?"
"Maybe."
"You sound disappointed."
"I would prefer certainty."
"You are standing in a tuxedo while someone smuggles poison into your bedroom. How much certainty do you need?"
I took the bag from her.
Our fingers touched.
Neither of us moved immediately.
There are touches that are accidents and touches that become questions.
This one became a question.
Elena pulled her hand away first.
"Do not," she said quietly.
"Do not what?"
"Whatever that was."
"I did not do anything."
"Exactly."
She looked at me with an expression I could not read.
"You are engaged."
"Not in any way that matters."
"It matters if she thinks she owns you enough to kill you."
"Fair point."
"And I work for you."
"Also temporary."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Are you firing me?"
"No. I am saying that when this is over, you will not work for me unless you choose to."
"Why?"
I had no safe answer.
So I gave her the dangerous one.
"Because I do not want you wondering whether every kindness from me comes with a paycheck attached."
Elena went very still.
Before she could answer, a knock sounded.
Nico opened the door.
"Camilla is asking for you. Salvatore is here. Bellini too. All five family representatives have arrived."
I put the poison capsule into my safe.
"Then let us celebrate."
The ballroom had not held that many dangerous men since my father's wake.
Camilla stood beneath the chandelier in silver silk, radiant and perfect.
When she saw me, she smiled with such warmth that for a second I understood how she had fooled me.
Then I remembered the hidden camera.
By the time I reached her, she had already taken a champagne glass from a passing tray.
"For you," she said.
She held it out.
The room around us continued to glitter.
Music played.
People laughed.
My uncle watched from twenty feet away.
I took the glass.
Camilla's smile deepened.
"To us."
I lifted the champagne.
Then Sophia's voice rang across the ballroom.
"UNCLE DANTE!"
Every head turned.
Mrs. Greco chased Sophia through the doorway, horrified.
The child ran straight toward me wearing pink pajamas under a tiny white robe, Captain Pickles bouncing from one hand.
"Sophia," Elena called from behind her.
Too late.
Sophia reached me and pointed at the champagne.
"Do not drink that."
Camilla laughed too quickly.
"Why not, sweetheart?"
Sophia looked at her.
"Because you put something in his cup."
Four hundred people stopped breathing.
Camilla's face became blank.
Elena reached us.
"Sophia, what are you talking about?"
"The shiny lady had a little bottle. I saw her by the curtain. She squeezed it."
Camilla's laugh came out thin.
"This is absurd. She is three."
Salvatore started toward us.
"Dante, perhaps we should take the child upstairs before she embarrasses-"
"Stop."
I did not raise my voice.
He stopped anyway.
I looked at the glass in my hand.
Then at Camilla.
"Drink it."
Her lips parted.
"What?"
"The champagne. Drink it."
The orchestra had stopped playing.
No one moved.
Camilla looked around the room.
"You cannot be serious."
"Very."
"Dante, this is humiliating."
"Then prove her wrong."
Her eyes filled with outrage.
"You would take the word of a maid's toddler over your future wife?"
The sentence changed the air.
Elena stiffened.
Sophia gripped her mother's dress.
I handed the champagne to Camilla.
"I would take the truth over anyone."
She did not take the glass.
That was answer enough.
Nico stepped forward with a small test strip from the medical kit we had prepared.
He dipped it into the champagne.
Thirty seconds later, the indicator changed.
Digitalis.
A murmur moved through the ballroom like wind through dry leaves.
Carlo Bellini went white.
Salvatore did not.
Camilla stared at the strip.
Then at me.
"You set me up."
"No. I gave you a glass. You chose what to put in it."
Her face twisted.
For the first time, the elegant woman disappeared.
"You think you are so clever," she whispered.
"Not clever enough. I almost married you."
She slapped me.
The crack echoed beneath the chandelier.
Nico moved.
I lifted a hand.
No.
Camilla's eyes shone with fury.
"You have no idea what is coming."
"Then tell me."
"Ask your precious uncle."
Every face turned toward Salvatore.
He smiled sadly.
"The girl is hysterical. Camilla is upset. This is becoming a spectacle."
"Good," I said. "I have always hated private betrayals."
Salvatore's expression cooled.
I reached into my jacket and removed a photograph.
My father and Salvatore, 1988.
I held it up.
"Do you remember this?"
He did not answer.
"My father wrote something on the back. He said the worst betrayal does not come from an enemy."
Salvatore's jaw tightened.
"You are making a mistake."
"Probably. But not the one you think."
I nodded to Nico.
The ballroom doors closed.
Guards loyal to me took positions at every exit.
Carlo Bellini moved toward his daughter.
"Camilla, say nothing."
She turned on him.
"You said he would be dead before anyone knew!"
Carlo froze.
There are confessions prosecutors spend years trying to get.
Sometimes all you need is a spoiled daughter who has just been publicly humiliated.
The room erupted.
Men shouted.
Bellini representatives reached inside jackets.
My guards raised weapons.
Women screamed and backed toward the walls.
I stayed where I was.
"No one draws," I said.
The authority in my voice cut through the noise.
"Anyone who pulls a weapon in my house tonight declares himself against all five families."
Hands stopped.
Then Salvatore began to laugh.
Not loudly.
Not wildly.
Almost fondly.
"There he is," he said. "Antonio's son at last."
I looked at him.
"You killed him."
The room became silent again.
Salvatore tilted his head.
"Careful."
"Dr. Pell. Digitalis. The lab report my mother hid. Tomas Vasquez's recording."
At Tomas's name, Salvatore's eyes moved to Elena.
That was the first real mistake he made all evening.
Elena saw it.
So did I.
"You killed my husband," she said.
Salvatore looked at her with the indifference of a man noticing furniture.
"I have no idea who your husband was."
"Liar," she whispered.
Sophia stepped in front of her mother.
Tiny. Barefoot. Furious.
"You are a bad man."
Someone in the room made a strangled sound that might have been fear or laughter.
Salvatore stared at the child.
For the first time, his composure cracked.
"Get that little brat out of here."
I moved between them.
"Say that again."
He looked at me.
"Dante-"
"Say it again."
He did not.
Nico's phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen, and his face changed.
He leaned close to me.
"We have a problem."
"What?"
"The real council seal is gone."
My blood went cold.
I looked at Camilla.
She smiled through her tears.
"You were so busy watching the glass," she said, "you forgot the drawer."
I had not forgotten it.
May you like
But someone else had reached it while four hundred people watched the ballroom.
And whoever had taken the seal was still inside my house.
