Chapter 3 - The Toxicologist’s Verdict
The private medical suite on the third floor of the Varric estate looked more like a top-tier research facility than a residential clinic. Stainless steel counters lined the walls, illuminated by sterile, bright LED panels overhead. Advanced diagnostic monitors hummed softly in the corners, casting a pale blue glow over the pristine room.
Dr. Julian Vance, the Varric family’s personal physician for over a decade, stood near the examination table, wringing his hands nervously. He was a silver-haired man in his late fifties, dressed in an immaculate white lab coat, but his usual calm demeanor was utterly shattered by the four heavily armed men standing guard at the door.
Liana sat on a padded leather stool, holding Nico firmly against her chest. The baby remained completely tranquil, his small face buried in her neck, occasionally releasing a soft, contented sigh.
Matteo stood beside them, his arms crossed over his chest, watching Dr. Vance like a hawk tracking its prey.
"I... I must protest, Matteo," Dr. Vance stammered, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses with a trembling finger. "This is highly irregular. I have examined little Nico twice a week since his birth. His blood panels have been consistently normal, apart from minor elevated inflammatory markers which are completely consistent with severe infantile colic or a persistent viral strain. To suggest that—"
"Shut up, Julian," Matteo said flatly, his tone carrying no emotion whatsoever. "And run the dermal scan."
"Matteo, this woman is a housekeeper!" Dr. Vance gestured frantically toward Liana. "She has no medical background! She is projecting her own grief onto your family—"
In a movement so fast Liana barely caught it, Matteo crossed the room, grabbed Dr. Vance by the lapels of his white coat, and slammed him against the stainless-steel cabinet. A cascade of glass vials rattled violently.
"If you speak another word that isn't an explanation of your diagnostic procedure," Matteo whispered, his face inches from the doctor's, "I will cut your tongue out and feed it to the dogs in the yard. Scan the mark."
Dr. Vance’s face turned bright red, then ghostly white. He swallowed hard and nodded rapidly. "Y-yes. Immediately."
Matteo released him, stepping back beside Liana.
Dr. Vance reached for a high-resolution dermal spectrograph—a sleek, handheld device capable of analyzing chemical compounds beneath the epidermal layer using non-invasive laser resonance. His hands shook violently as he calibrated the device.
"Hold the child steady," Dr. Vance whispered to Liana.
Liana gently adjusted Nico, exposing the reddish mark on his tiny collarbone. She held the baby’s arms down with soft, soothing pressure, whispering nonsense nursery rhymes into his ear to keep him calm. Nico didn't stir; he simply blinked his wide, dark eyes up at Liana, completely trusting her.
Dr. Vance pressed the nozzle of the spectrograph against the edge of the red mark. A soft, blue laser light swept over the infant’s skin. A digital readout on a nearby monitor began to scroll through complex chemical formulas and spectral graphs.
For thirty seconds, the only sound in the room was the soft hum of the cooling fan inside the scanner.
Then, the monitor emitted a sharp, high-pitched double beep. A bright red warning box flashed across the screen:
UNKNOWN ORGANIC ALKALOID DETECTED. COMPLEX NEURO-LIPID BINDING. MATRIX CONCENTRATION: 4.2 PPM.
Dr. Vance staggered backward, his hand flying to his mouth. "My God..."
Matteo stepped up to the screen, his eyes burning as he scanned the technical jargon. "Translate that into plain English, Vance. Right now."
"It's... it's a synthetic compound," Dr. Vance gasped, his voice cracking with genuine terror. "It's an extremely rare organophosphate derivative. It’s lipid-soluble... it absorbs through the skin without leaving an open wound or causing an immediate toxic reaction. It targets the central nervous system, causing severe, chronic peripheral nerve pain..."
"Which is why he was screaming," Liana said softly, tears rising in her eyes again. "He wasn't sick. He was in absolute agony every second of the day."
"Yes," Dr. Vance whispered, staring at the screen in horror. "The pain would be agonizing, yet invisible on standard blood tests because the compound rapidly metabolizes into localized nerve endings rather than remaining in the bloodstream. It... it slowly induces respiratory paralysis over time."
Matteo looked down at his son. His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white. The terrifying truth was laid bare before him: his child was being tortured in his own home, right under his nose.
"How was it applied?" Matteo asked, his voice deathly calm.
Liana looked down at Nico’s embroidered onesie. "May I?" she asked Matteo.
Matteo nodded once.
Liana carefully unbuttoned the front of the baby's outfit and turned the fabric inside out. She brought the cloth close to her nose, sniffing lightly, then held it up under the blue diagnostic light on the counter.
Under the ultraviolet spectrum of the room's lights, a faint, yellowish residue gleamed against the inner seams of the collar.
"It’s in the fabric," Liana said, her voice dripping with quiet outrage. "Someone is washing his clothes in a solution laced with this chemical. Every time he wears a shirt, every time he is wrapped in a blanket, his body heat activates the compound, forcing it through his skin."
Matteo turned slowly toward Dr. Vance. "Who handles the nursery linens?"
"I... I don't know!" Dr. Vance stammered, raising his hands defensively. "The household staff handles all domestic chores! I only manage his medical regimen!"
"Who prescribed the soothing lotions you gave me last week, Julian?" Matteo asked, stepping closer to the physician. "The cream you told me to rub on his chest every night to 'calm his nerves'?"
Dr. Vance froze. "I... it was a compound prepared by the central pharmacy at Saint Jude's Memorial..."
Liana snapped her head up. "Saint Jude's? That’s where my daughter died!"
Matteo’s eyes narrowed into slits of lethal intent. He looked at Liana, then at the doctor, putting the horrifying puzzle together in real-time. This was no localized domestic dispute; it was a cold, calculated, systemic assassination plot targeting his bloodline, executed through the very institutions he trusted to keep his child alive.
Matteo reached into his shoulder holster, pulled out a sleek, suppressed black handgun, and racked the slide with a metallic clack.
Dr. Vance dropped to his knees, sobbing hysterically. "Matteo, please! I didn't know! I swear to God I didn't know! I was just using the hospital's recommended pediatric protocols!"
"Frank," Matteo called out without taking his eyes off the doctor.
The lead guard stepped forward. "Yes, Boss?"
"Take Dr. Vance down to the wine cellar," Matteo ordered flatly. "Strip him of his phone, his watch, and his medical license. If he tries to speak, break his jaw. He stays there until I figure out whether he is a fool or a traitor."
"No! Matteo, please!" Dr. Vance shrieked as Frank and another guard grabbed him by his arms and dragged him out of the suite, his heels scraping uselessly against the polished floor until the door slammed shut.
Silence returned to the room.
Liana sat holding Nico, her heart pounding against her ribs. She looked at Matteo, who stood in the center of the room, holding his silenced pistol, staring at the floor as if contemplating the annihilation of an entire city.
"Mr. Varric?" she whispered gently.
Matteo slowly turned his gaze toward her. The terrifying rage in his eyes softened just a fraction as he looked at her holding his peaceful, sleeping son.
"You saved his life today, Liana," Matteo said, his voice deep and solemn. "Another week of this exposure, and his heart would have failed."
"He isn't safe yet," Liana warned him. "We need to strip off these clothes, bathe him in warm water with an emulsifying soap to strip the remaining toxin from his skin, and burn every piece of linen in that nursery."
Matteo put his weapon back into its holster. He walked over to her, knelt down so he was eye-level with her, and placed a large, warm hand gently on her shoulder.
"You are no longer a maid in this house, Liana Graves," Matteo said, his voice carrying the absolute weight of a royal decree. "From this second, you are the head of my son's personal security and care. You eat where he eats, you sleep where he sleeps, and nobody touches him without your permission."
May you like
Liana looked into his fierce, resolute eyes and nodded once. "And what about the people who did this?"
Matteo stood up, a dark, terrifying smile spreading across his face. "We are going to reopen your daughter's case, Liana. And then we are going to burn down everyone involved."
