Chapter 15 - The Poisoned ToastFrom his concealed vantage point near the rear service entrance, Lorenzo signaled a corrupt sommelier—a man he had bought off with a hundred thousand dollars wired to an offshore account earlier that morning.
The sommelier approached the VIP head table where Dominic, Lily, and several major medical donors were seated. On a silver tray rested a bottle of rare, vintage 1982 Bordeaux and crystal glasses.
“A special contribution from a private donor celebrating the foundation’s launch, Mr. Moretti,” the sommelier said smoothly, pouring a dark, rich crimson stream into Dominic’s glass.
Unnoticed by the adults, Lily had been staring intently at the sommelier’s hands. Her mother had once taught her a quiet game when reviewing medicine bottles in their old Queens apartment: Always check the seal. If the cap has been turned twice, it’s not what it claims to be.
Lily watched as a tiny, crystalline residue flaked off the bottleneck right as the wine poured.
Her heart skipped a beat. She remembered the dark men outside the Westchester estate, the whispered warnings, the altered driving routes.
Without a word, Lily casually reached out her small hand, knocking her own glass of sparkling apple cider over onto the white tablecloth with a loud, deliberate crash.
“Oops! I’m so clumsy!” Lily gasped loudly, instantly drawing the attention of everyone at the table, including Dominic and the nearby security detail.
Dominic immediately turned his focus to his daughter, pulling her close. “Are you okay, princess? Did it spill on your dress?”
As Dominic leaned down to check on her, Lily quickly slid her small hand across the table and nudged her elbow against the stem of Dominic’s wine glass, tipping it over so the dark red liquid soaked directly into the linen napkin before he could take a single sip.
Then, she looked up into her father’s eyes, whispering two words that made his blood run instantly cold: “The seal.”
Dominic didn't blink. Years of survival instinct kicked in with terrifying speed. He stood up, grabbed the sommelier by the silk lapel of his jacket with one hand, and slammed him against the marble pillar behind the table.
“Vance!” Dominic roared across the ballroom.
Before the crowd could even process the commotion, Vince and two tactical officers materialized from the guests, pinning the terrified sommelier to the floor. A quick chemical field test performed by Dominic’s private medical team confirmed the wine had been laced with a fast-acting, lethal neurotoxin.
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Lorenzo Rizzi, watching from the edge of the crowd, realized his trap had failed. He turned sharply toward the exit doors, but Dominic’s cold, gray-green eyes had already caught sight of him fading into the crowd.
“Lock down the hotel,” Dominic commanded into his lapel radio, his voice echoing with absolute fury. “Nobody leaves.”
