Chapter 2 - The Antidote in the Glass
Dr. Reynolds didn't waste a second.
Driven by a combination of professional duty and sheer disbelief, he hurried across the room, dropping to his knees beside Adrian Moretti.
"Don't touch the dog," Dante warned, stepping into the room with his hand still hovering over his holster. He kept a six-foot distance, watching Titan with absolute astonishment.
Titan didn't growl. The giant dog remained sitting next to Sophia, resting his broad chin lightly on the knee of her denim jeans while she gently petted the top of his head between his folded ears.
"Heart rate is dangerously low—thirty-two beats per minute," Dr. Reynolds muttered, pulling a penlight from his pocket and shining it into Adrian's pupils. "Respiration is failing. Pupils are pinpointed."
"Is it a heart attack?" Elena asked, rushing to Sophia's side and gently pulling her daughter back against her chest, though Titan stayed glued to Sophia's side.
"No," Dr. Reynolds snapped, opening his medical bag and pulling out a pre-filled syringe. "This isn't a cardiac event. His symptoms indicate severe cholinergic toxicity. He's been poisoned."
Dante's head snapped up. "Poisoned? Inside this house?"
"An organophosphate nerve agent or high-dose digitalis derivative," Reynolds explained rapidly, jamming the needle through Adrian's suit jacket directly into his thigh. "This is Atropine. It will stabilize his heart rate temporarily, but we need to get him to the private medical wing at St. Jude's immediately."
Dante pulled his radio from his belt. "Security detail, this is Russo. Code Red in the primary study. Secure all estate exits. Nobody enters, nobody leaves. Prepare the armored Suburban at the rear entrance now!"
As Dante barked orders into the radio, Elena looked down at the floor near Adrian's desk.
The broken crystal water glass lay scattered across the rug. Beside the glass was a small, dark stain where the liquid had soaked into the wool fibers.
Titan sniffed the air near the glass, letting out a soft, distressed whine.
"Mommy," Sophia whispered, pointing her small finger at the desk. "The water smelled funny."
Elena looked at her daughter. "What do you mean, baby?"
"Before the crash," Sophia said, "when I was drawing in the hallway... a man with shiny shoes went into the room with a pitcher."
Dante froze mid-sentence, turning his eyes toward the five-year-old girl. "Sophia... who had shiny shoes?"
"The man who smells like mints," Sophia said simply. "He gave Mr. Moretti the glass."
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Dante's face turned white. There was only one man in the Moretti household who wore custom Italian leather dress shoes and chewed peppermint lozenges every morning: Vincent Moretti, Adrian's younger brother and the estate's chief financial coordinator.
Before anyone could say another word, heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway toward the study.
