Chapter 3 - The King’s Awakening
The grand library was locked from the inside.
Only Dante, Marco, Mrs. Gable, Elena, and little Lily remained inside the high-ceilinged room. The armed guards stood vigil outside the heavy oak doors, their orders absolute: No one enters, no one leaves.
Dante Moretti sat behind his massive mahogany desk, a glass of amber whiskey in his hand, though he didn't drink. His sharp, calculating eyes swept over the people standing before him.
Marco paced nervously near the fireplace, his jaw tight. “Uncle, I don't understand why we’re wasting time with an interrogation. The evidence is right there. The silver inhaler has your prescription label on it, and it was found beside your body. If we don't hand her over to the tribunal tonight, the other capos will think we’re losing our grip.”
“Silence, Marco,” Dante commanded softly.
Marco bit his lip, casting a venomous glare toward Elena, who stood with her arm wrapped tightly around Lily’s shoulders.
Dante turned his attention to the little girl. “Come here, child.”
Lily hesitated, looking up at her mother. Elena gave her a tiny, reassuring nod, and Lily stepped forward, walking right up to the edge of the massive desk. She didn't look afraid; she looked observant, her bright eyes tracking every movement in the room.
“What is your name?” Dante asked, his stern features softening just a fraction.
“Lily,” she answered clearly.
“Lily,” Dante repeated, leaning forward. “Why did you give me your red inhaler? You knew it was yours. You knew you needed it.”
“Because you were dying,” Lily answered simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “My mom says when someone can't breathe, you share your air if you have enough. And you looked like you didn't have any left.”
A heavy, profound silence fell over the room.
Dante looked down at the red plastic inhaler sitting on his desk—the one Lily had handed him. Then he reached out with a handkerchief, picked up the silver inhaler that had fallen from his hand during the attack, and placed it on the blotter beside the red one.
He looked up at Mrs. Gable.
The head housekeeper suddenly looked very pale, her hands trembling as she smoothed down her black apron. “M-Mr. Moretti? Is something wrong?”
“Mrs. Gable,” Dante said, his voice dangerously quiet. “Who checked my private chambers this evening before I sat down to review the shipping manifests?”
“I did, sir! Just like every evening!” Mrs. Gable stammered quickly. “I brought your evening tea, and I placed your silver inhaler right there on the side table, exactly where you always keep it!”
“Did you?” Dante raised an eyebrow. “Because my doctor prescribed this silver inhaler for chronic asthma flare-ups. It contains albuterol. But when this child picked it up, she noticed something else.”
Dante looked down at Lily. “What did you smell on the silver one, Lily?”
“Bad medicine,” Lily piped up instantly. “Like bitter almonds. My mom says almond smell means poison in the chemistry books at the community center where she cleans.”
Marco’s face lost all its color. He slammed his hand onto the mantelpiece. “Uncle! You’re taking the word of a six-year-old street brat over your own head housekeeper and your own blood? This is absurd! They’re working together to frame us!”
“Are they?” Dante asked coldly. He stood up from his chair, walking around the desk until he was standing right in front of Marco.
At fifty-five, Dante Moretti was still a formidable force. He looked down at his nephew, whose eyes darted nervously away.
“Marco,” Dante whispered, his voice like grinding ice. “I never told anyone in this room what was inside that silver inhaler. I never mentioned poison. I never mentioned bitter almonds. Yet you, my dear nephew, assumed immediately that an attempt had been made on my life, and you tried to ship this cleaning woman off to the executioners before my body was even cold.”
Marco stumbled back a step, panic breaking through his composure. “I—I was just protecting the family! Everyone knows she had access—”
“Everyone except you,” Dante interrupted, his dark eyes narrowing into slits. “Because you didn't just have access to my chambers, Marco. You’ve been managing the eastern shipping docks. And you’ve been skimming millions from the syndicate accounts to pay off your private gambling debts in Monte Carlo.”
Marco’s jaw dropped. “That’s a lie! Someone fabricated those ledgers!”
“Vance!” Dante called out sharply toward the door.
The heavy oak doors swung open instantly, and Vance, Dante’s stone-faced head of security, stepped inside, carrying a thick leather binder and a high-tech portable tablet.
“Boss,” Vance grunted, nodding respectfully.
“Play the security archive from the private stairwell leading to my study at 4:15 this afternoon,” Dante ordered.
Vance tapped the tablet screen and connected it to the library’s wall-mounted entertainment display.
The screen flickered to life.
The camera angle captured the private, restricted hallway outside Dante’s private chambers. The timestamp read 4:15 PM.
In crystal-clear high definition, the video showed Marco Moretti walking out of Dante’s private study, holding the silver medical inhaler in his hand, a small glass dropper bottle of clear liquid pinched between his fingers.
The footage showed Marco carefully unscrewing the mouthpiece of the inhaler, dispensing several drops of the lethal, almond-scented neurotoxin inside, shaking it to mix, and then placing it back down on the side table before looking around guiltily and scurrying down the hall.
The entire room went dead silent.
Marco stood frozen, staring at the screen as his own betrayal played out in merciless, unedited detail.
“No...” Marco whispered, backing away until his spine hit the stone fireplace. “No, that’s... that’s a deepfake! Uncle, you can't believe—”
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Before Marco could finish his sentence, Dante’s hand lashed out with terrifying speed, grabbing his nephew by the collar and slamming him back against the stone with a sickening thud.
“You tried to murder me in my own home,” Dante snarled, his face inches from Marco’s, venom dripping from every word. “And you tried to frame an innocent mother and her little girl to cover your tracks.”
