Chapter 2 - The Fever in the Cottage
“And Mr. Bell said Mama deserved it.”
The little girl whispered the sentence so softly Adrien nearly missed it.
His gaze sharpened.
“What did you say?”
She looked down at her blackened fingers.
“Mr. Bell got angry because Mama went into the upstairs room. He said she saw something she wasn’t supposed to see.” Her voice trembled. “He grabbed her arm. Then Mama got sick.”
The softness vanished from Adrien’s face.
Victor Bell had served as the estate manager for nine years. He controlled the household staff, security schedules, supply deliveries, and access to every private room in the mansion whenever Adrien traveled.
He was also one of the few men Adrien trusted inside his home.
“What is your name?” Adrien asked.
“Lucia.”
“And your mother?”
“Maria Alvarez.”
Adrien knew the name. Maria had joined the household staff eight months earlier. Quiet. Efficient. Almost invisible. Bell’s reports described her as reliable but financially desperate, a widow with a young child who lived in the smallest cottage behind the greenhouse.
Adrien glanced toward the dark corridor.
“Show me where she is.”
Lucia’s eyes widened.
“Are you going to send us away?”
“No.”
“Mr. Bell said—”
“Victor Bell does not decide who stays in my house.”
She studied his face as though searching for the trap adults always hid inside promises.
Then she picked up her teddy bear.
Adrien held out his hand.
Lucia stared at it.
His hands had signed death orders, closed billion-dollar deals, and broken men who had betrayed him. Now one tiny, polish-stained hand slipped hesitantly into his palm.
He led her through the silent mansion.
The estate was too quiet.
Adrien noticed it now. The guard station near the rear hall was empty. The kitchen lights were off even though someone was supposed to remain on duty through the night. Two security cameras above the servants’ passage showed no red power indicators.
Disabled.
“Did Mr. Bell know you were polishing my shoes?” he asked.
Lucia shook her head.
“He said I had to stay with Mama. But Mama was talking in her sleep. She kept saying she would lose her job.”
They crossed the courtyard toward the cottages. Rain had begun to fall, dusting the stone path with silver. Lucia hurried beside him in thin socks, trying to keep up with his longer stride.
Adrien stopped, removed his coat, and wrapped it around her shoulders.
It nearly swallowed her whole.
The staff cottage door stood partly open.
Adrien smelled sickness before he stepped inside—sweat, damp blankets, and the sharp trace of something medicinal.
Maria Alvarez lay curled on a narrow bed. Her dark hair clung to her face. One sleeve had fallen back, revealing a purple bruise around her wrist shaped unmistakably like a man’s hand.
Adrien touched two fingers to her neck.
Her pulse raced.
“Maria.”
Her eyes opened slowly. At first, she seemed not to recognize him.
Then terror flooded her expression.
She tried to sit up.
“Mr. Romano—I’m sorry. I know I missed my shift. Please don’t—”
“You’re not being dismissed.”
Her eyes moved to Lucia, who stood wrapped in Adrien’s coat.
“You went into the house?” Maria asked weakly.
Lucia began to cry.
“I did your shoes, Mama. So he wouldn’t send us away.”
Maria covered her mouth.
Adrien looked around the room.
A glass of cloudy water sat on the bedside table. Beside it lay two white tablets without markings. On the floor, half hidden beneath the bed, he spotted a torn piece of blue fabric.
It looked expensive.
He picked it up.
Maria’s fear deepened.
“Where did this come from?”
She said nothing.
Adrien’s voice became colder.
“Maria, someone disabled the cameras inside my home. My guards are missing. Your wrist is bruised, and your daughter says Victor Bell threatened you. I need the truth.”
Maria stared toward the window.
“He’ll kill us.”
“He won’t touch you.”
“You don’t know what he’s doing.”
“I know what he is capable of.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You know what you think he is capable of.”
Adrien remained still.
Maria swallowed painfully.
“Two nights ago, I was cleaning the west wing. Mr. Bell told everyone it was closed because of water damage. But I heard voices inside your father’s old study.”
Adrien’s father had been dead for twelve years. The study had remained locked since the funeral.
“What voices?”
“Mr. Bell and another man. They were arguing about shipments. Names. Federal agents. Someone called the Cardinal.”
Adrien’s expression changed almost imperceptibly.
The Cardinal was not a man. It was a name whispered through Chicago’s criminal underworld for nearly a decade—a broker who sold information, manipulated investigations, and turned allies against one another without ever revealing his identity.
Some doubted the Cardinal existed.
Adrien did not.
Maria continued.
“I tried to leave, but the floor creaked. Mr. Bell found me outside the door.”
She looked at the bruise on her wrist.
“He told me I had misunderstood. Then he brought me back here and made me drink something.”
Adrien glanced at the cloudy water.
“You were poisoned.”
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you contact me?”
“He took my phone. He said if I spoke, Lucia would disappear before you ever heard my name.”
Lucia climbed onto the bed and pressed herself against her mother.
Adrien pulled out his phone and called the one physician he trusted.
“Dr. Chen,” he said when the call connected. “Come to the west cottage immediately. Bring a toxicology kit and tell no one.”
He ended the call.
Maria caught his sleeve.
“There’s more.”
Adrien looked down at her.
“The man with Mr. Bell left something in the study. After they were gone, I went back.”
“You returned?”
“I needed proof.”
From beneath the mattress, Maria removed a brass key no longer than Adrien’s smallest finger.
“I found this behind your father’s desk.”
Adrien recognized the engraved letter immediately.
R.
Romano.
Maria pressed the key into his hand.
“Mr. Bell came back before I could find what it opened. But I heard him talking on the phone.”
“What did he say?”
Maria’s voice dropped.
“He said you were coming home early.”
Adrien’s blood went cold.
“No one knew.”
“He did.”
A vehicle engine sounded outside.
Headlights swept across the cottage window.
Maria recoiled.
Lucia clung to her.
Adrien turned toward the door just as footsteps approached through the rain.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Then Victor Bell’s voice came from the darkness outside.
“Mr. Romano,” he called pleasantly. “I wish someone had told me you were home.”
Adrien slid the brass key into his pocket.
May you like
Lucia whispered one frightened word.
“Him.”
