Chapter 7 - The Poison Confirmed
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The morning of the gala arrived with a suffocating, heavy tension that hung over the estate like a storm cloud. Hundreds of caterers, florists, and security personnel swarmed the grounds, preparing the massive ballroom for the engagement announcement.
Inside the study, Thomas sat across from a man who did not officially exist on any payroll. Dr. Aris was an underground toxicologist, a brilliant but disgraced medical professional who now worked exclusively for the syndicates.
“Your suspicions were entirely correct, Mr. Whitfield,” Dr. Aris said, adjusting his glasses and sliding a heavily redacted lab report across the mahogany desk. “The residue inside the glass vial is a highly concentrated, synthetic derivative of digitalis. It is incredibly rare.”
Thomas stared at the report, his face a mask of stone. “And the effects?”
“It induces massive, catastrophic heart failure within minutes of entering the bloodstream,” the doctor explained grimly. “It breaks down rapidly in the body, making it virtually undetectable in a standard post-mortem toxicology screen unless the coroner is explicitly looking for it. Your father’s death looked exactly like a natural, tragic heart attack.”
“It’s a Rossi signature,” Thomas murmured, his fingers tracing the edge of the velvet box.
“Yes, sir. It is a favored weapon of the Chicago syndicate. Clean, quiet, and effective.”
Thomas dismissed the doctor with a nod. As the heavy doors closed, Silas stepped out of the shadows of the study, where he had been standing guard. Silas was a mountain of a man, heavily scarred, entirely devoted to the Whitfield bloodline.
“So, the bride murdered your father to force the alliance,” Silas growled, his hand resting on the heavy pistol holstered at his hip. “Give the word, Boss. I’ll take her down to the basement right now. She won't ever see the sun again.”
“No,” Thomas commanded sharply. “If we execute her quietly, her father, Don Rossi, will use it as an excuse to declare open war on our territory. He will claim I murdered his innocent daughter out of paranoia. We need to publicly destroy them. We need the entire commission to see their treason.”
“Don Rossi is arriving at the gala tonight with twenty of his top enforcers,” Silas warned. “If you expose them in the ballroom, it’s going to be a bloodbath.”
“I know,” Thomas said, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket. “Which is why I need you to double the internal security. Strip the Rossi guards of their primary weapons at the door under the guise of 'gala protocol.' And Silas?”
“Yes, Boss?”
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“Put two of our best men on Rosie’s quarters,” Thomas ordered, his dark eyes fierce and uncompromising. “The maid and her child do not leave that room tonight. They are the priority.”
Silas nodded, recognizing the absolute seriousness in his boss’s tone. “Consider it done.”
