Chapter 3 - THE DOCTOR'S DOWNFALL
The basement of the Moretti mansion did not look like a dungeon, but it functioned as one when necessary. It was a clean, concrete-walled room housing the estate's massive water filtration systems, wine cellars, and a soundproof utility room.
Dr. Miles Harlan was strapped to a heavy steel chair. His designer tweed jacket was torn, and his glasses lay shattered on the floor.
Dominic stood in front of him, holding a small glass of orange juice. Beside Dominic stood his chief security officer, Marco, a man with a face scarred by years of syndicate warfare.
"The analysis came back, Miles," Dominic said, his voice dangerously smooth. "My chemist was very impressed. It is a highly sophisticated compound. Liquid arsenic, masked beautifully by the scent of synthetic almond and high-fructose corn syrup. In small, daily doses, it doesn't kill. Instead, it causes neurological decay. Mood swings. Extreme anxiety. Memory loss."
Dominic took a step closer, holding the glass just inches from the doctor’s face.
"It makes three perfectly healthy children look like they are losing their minds. It makes them scream, shatter plates, and drive away every nanny who might notice the physical symptoms. And eventually, it would have killed them, leaving Vivian Lock to comfort the grieving father and take control of the Moretti estate."
"Dominic, please!" Harlan gasped, his eyes darting frantically. "I was forced! You don't understand the reach of the Lock family. They threatened my family! They have leverage on me!"
"I don't care about your excuses, Miles," Dominic said, his voice dropping to a whisper that chilled the doctor to his bones. "You poisoned my children. You poisoned Mateo, who has my father's eyes. You poisoned Enzo, who is too gentle for this world. And you poisoned Lucia, who looks so much like her mother it hurts to look at her."
Dominic handed the glass to Marco.
"Force-feed him the entire glass," Dominic ordered. "Then, when his tongue begins to go sleepy, ask him where my wife is. If he doesn't answer, give him another."
"Wait! Wait!" Harlan screamed, his chair rattling against the concrete as he struggled. "I'll tell you! I'll tell you everything! Rosalie... she isn't dead!"
Dominic froze. The air in the room grew instantly heavy. He turned back slowly, his eyes locking onto the trembling doctor.
"What did you say?"
"She... she discovered what Vivian was doing," Harlan sobbed, tears and sweat pouring down his face. "Three years ago, Rosalie found the arsenic in my medical bag. She tried to warn you, but Vivian had already planted evidence making it look like Rosalie was having an affair with an enemy family. Vivian convinced you that Rosalie’s erratic behavior was a mental breakdown."
Dominic’s mind flashed back to three years ago. The screaming matches. The sudden, uncharacteristic paranoia of his wife. The forged letters he had been shown. He had believed Vivian. He had shut his wife out, believing she was betraying him.
"Where is she?" Dominic growled, grabbing Harlan by the throat, lifting the doctor and the heavy steel chair off the floor by several inches. "Where is my wife, Miles?"
"The... the St. Jude Sanitarium," Harlan choked out, his face turning purple. "In the northern district. It’s owned by a shell company controlled by the Locks. She’s been kept there under a fake name. Sedated. Heavily sedated. Vivian... Vivian wanted her kept alive as leverage in case you ever discovered the truth. If you killed Vivian, her family would kill Rosalie!"
Dominic slammed the doctor back down. The impact echoed through the concrete room.
"Marco," Dominic breathed, his face a mask of absolute, unadulterated fury. "Keep him alive. But make sure he never walks again."
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"With pleasure, boss," Marco replied.
Dominic turned and walked out of the basement, his mind spinning. The woman he had loved, the mother of his children, was alive. Locked away in a hellhole, poisoned and forgotten, while he had allowed her torturer to sit at his dining table.
