Chapter 2
The hospital made a mandatory child-safety report.
Vittorio did not interfere.
Several members of the Rossetti family expected him to.
One called before midnight.
“Handle this inside.”
Vittorio hung up.
Another reminded him that Bernadette was sixty-six and had served the family faithfully for decades.
Vittorio hung up again.
His attorney, Claire Donovan, arrived at the hospital shortly after one in the morning.
She had represented legitimate Rossetti companies for eleven years and had learned not to mistake Vittorio’s silence for agreement.
“Do not call Bernadette.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Do not send anyone to her house.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Do not have one of your men retrieve records before law enforcement gets there.”
Vittorio looked at her.
“That one I was considering.”
“Don’t.”
He looked back toward Luca’s room.
“Fine.”
Claire sat beside him.
“What exactly happened?”
Vittorio described the luncheon.
The cobbler.
The tea.
Bernadette reaching for Luca.
The broken cart.
His own stupid decision to drink from the glass.
Then the camera.
“She looked at it.”
Claire frowned.
“After you asked what was in the tea?”
“Yes.”
“That camera covers the patio?”
“Most of it.”
“Audio?”
“No.”
“Good enough for movement.”
Vittorio looked at her.
“Why was she afraid?”
“That’s what investigators are for.”
“I don’t like waiting for investigators.”
“I know.”
She closed her folder.
“Your son needs a father tonight, not a boss.”
That sentence shut him up.
Luca was discharged the following afternoon with instructions for follow-up and monitoring.
The confirmed toxicology result remained consistent with exposure to a sedating medication that had not been prescribed to him.
Doctors would not speculate on how it entered his system.
The police obtained the tea sample.
They also requested the estate security footage.
Vittorio provided it.
Then he asked his security chief, Angelo, one question.
“How far back do the cameras archive?”
“Ninety days locally. Longer on off-site backup.”
“How much longer?”
“About a year.”
Vittorio felt a chill.
“Who has access?”
“You. Me. Two security administrators.”
“Bernadette?”
“No.”
That should have reassured him.
It did not.
Back at the estate, Luca asked for his chef hat.
A housekeeper found it beneath one of the overturned flower urns.
The paper was stained purple and wet from spilled tea.
Luca stared at it.
“Grandma broke my cake.”
“She did.”
“Was it bad?”
Vittorio crouched.
“No.”
“She said it was.”
“She was wrong.”
Luca considered that.
Then asked:
“Was my tea bad?”
Vittorio felt his throat tighten.
“We’re finding out.”
Luca lowered his voice.
“Grandma says I have to drink special tea when I’m too loud.”
Vittorio stopped breathing for a second.
“How many times?”
Luca shrugged.
He was three.
Numbers beyond a few had little meaning.
Vittorio did not ask again.
He called the child therapist recommended by the hospital.
May you like
Then he called Claire.
“It wasn’t the first time.”
