Chapter 2 - The Poisoned Apple
Clara did not think, she simply reacted.
She threw her dusting cloth aside and sprinted up the stairs, scooping Mia into her arms before Giorgio could climb the first step.
She pressed her daughter’s face into her shoulder and forced an apologetic smile.
Clara desperately babbled that children had wild imaginations and that Mia was simply tired.
Giorgio paused on the second step, his hand still concealed inside his jacket.
He stared at Clara with a gaze so piercing it felt like he was slicing her open.
He asked Clara what her name was and how long she had been working in his family’s home.
Clara managed to keep her voice steady as she introduced herself as the new maid.
Giorgio slowly withdrew his hand from his jacket, revealing not a weapon, but a silver money clip.
He peeled off a crisp hundred-dollar bill and held it out toward the terrified mother.
He told Clara to buy the child some new toys and ensure she stayed out of the main house.
Clara took the money with a trembling hand, thanking him profusely before rushing back to their room.
Once the door was bolted shut, Clara collapsed against it, struggling to catch her breath.
She grabbed Mia by the shoulders, her voice shaking as she asked what black box she was talking about.
Mia innocently explained that she had seen Uncle Giorgio put a little black square behind the painting near the sleeping man’s room.
Clara’s heart hammered against her ribs as the reality of the situation washed over her.
Giorgio was planting something near the ICU suite, and Mia was the only witness.
When the estate grew quiet after midnight, Clara knew she had to investigate.
She crept out of her room and silently made her way to the forbidden second floor.
The hallway was dimly lit, casting long, menacing shadows against the antique wallpaper.
She found the oil painting of the Italian countryside exactly where Mia had described it.
Her fingers trembled as she felt behind the heavy wooden frame.
She touched a small, hard plastic object taped to the wall.
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Just as her fingers closed around it, the floorboards creaked right behind her.
A cold, metallic object was pressed firmly against the back of Clara’s neck.
