Chapter 3 - The Traitor Unmasked
"Danny," Alessandro said, his voice dropping into a register so chillingly quiet that the junior maid let out a muffled sob. "You started working here three weeks ago. Recommended by Matteo. Excellent references. Culinary school in Milan. Clean record."
Danny swallowed hard, his throat clicking. "That's... that's right, Boss. All true."
"Except for one small detail," Alessandro murmured, taking a slow step forward around the marble island. "Milan culinary schools don't teach you how to mask the almond scent of cyanide with roasted chicory. That's a chemist's trick. Or an assassin's."
"I don't know what you're talking about! It's a setup! The kid is lying—she's just repeating something her mother told her!" Danny shrieked, panic finally cracking his facade. He lunged backward toward the service door, his hand diving into his chef's coat.
He never cleared leather.
Before Danny's fingers could wrap around the handle of the concealed switchblade hidden in his pocket, two massive security guards—men who had been stationed just outside the swinging doors—exploded into the kitchen.
One tackled Danny from behind, driving him face-first into the cold stone floor. The second guard pinned the cook's arm behind his back with a vicious twist that elicited a sharp, agonized cry.
"Clear his pockets," Alessandro ordered coldly.
A moment later, a small glass vial containing a clear, viscous liquid was slammed onto the marble counter alongside Danny's phone.
Alessandro picked up the phone, tapped the screen, and saw a string of encrypted messages waiting in the outbox. The most recent one, timestamped five minutes ago, read: Target approaching kitchen. Brew ready. Waiting for confirmation.
Alessandro stared at the screen for a long, quiet moment. Then he looked down at the man thrashing on the floor.
"Who hired you?" Alessandro asked. "Matteo? Or the syndicate across the river?"
"I won't tell you a damn thing!" Danny spat, blood from a split lip smearing across the tile. "You're a dead man anyway, Duca! Even if I fail, the council has already voted! Your empire is rotting from the inside!"
Alessandro didn't yell. He didn't lose his temper. He simply motioned to the guards.
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"Take him down to the lower cellar," Alessandro instructed evenly. "Keep him alive. I want to know every name, every account number, and every contact he’s spoken to since he crossed my threshold. If he loses consciousness before he finishes talking, bring in the medic. We have a long night ahead of us."
As Danny was dragged screaming out of the kitchen, his fingernails scraping uselessly against the stone floor, the room fell back into a profound, chilling stillness.
