Chapter 2 - The Serpent in Silk-2-
When I pulled up to the estate, the sprawling mansion looked like a tomb encased in frost. The security guards nodded as I passed, their faces stone-cold, unaware that the dynamic of their world had just shifted on its axis. I kept my face impassive, the mask of the Moretti boss firmly in place.
I walked into the foyer and found Celeste waiting. She was holding a crystal flute, her posture elegant, her expression one of practiced concern.
"Elias," she breathed, moving toward me. "The hospital called. They said the nurse has been discharged, but she was in such a terrible state... I told them we would handle her care ourselves. It’s for the best, don't you think? She’s clearly unstable."
I watched her, studying the way her eyes flickered toward the study, then back to my face. She wasn't asking; she was probing. She wanted to know how much I knew.
"The hospital handled everything, Celeste," I said, my voice smooth, controlled. "She's gone. I settled her bill and sent her on her way. She won't be a problem for us again."
Her shoulders relaxed, a fraction of an inch, but it was there—the tell-tale sign of a predator who had just confirmed a kill. She smiled, a soft, predatory thing. "Good. She was such a distraction. I hated seeing you stressed, my love."
She reached out to touch my lapel, her fingers lingering. I didn't flinch. I let her play her part.
"I'm going to check on my mother," I said, moving past her.
"She's resting," Celeste called out after me. "The doctor increased her dosage this morning. She shouldn't be disturbed."
I didn't stop. I walked up the grand staircase, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to storm into her room and tear the house apart, but Delia’s warning echoed in my mind: Play the game.
I entered my mother’s room. The air was heavy with the smell of lavender and chemical suppressants. The breathing machine hissed in the corner. My mother, once the formidable matriarch of Chicago’s underworld, lay there like a wax figure, her eyes fixed on a point on the ceiling that didn't exist.
I walked to the bedside table. A small glass of water sat there, alongside a pill crusher and a syringe. I picked up the syringe, sniffing the residue. It was a cocktail of sedatives, the kind that didn't just calm; they erased.
I walked to the bathroom, flushed the remaining liquid, and filled the syringe with saline. It wouldn't wake her up instantly, but it would stop the slow erosion of her mind. I returned to the bed and injected the saline into her IV line, my movements gentle.
"I know you're in there," I whispered, leaning close to her ear. "Delia told me. You have the truth. If you can hear me, give me a sign. Just a blink. Anything."
I waited. One minute, two, three. The silence stretched until I felt the hopelessness of the situation threatening to pull me under. But then, as the rhythmic hiss of the machine continued, I saw it.
Her right eyelid flickered. Once. Twice. A slow, deliberate movement.
My pulse throbbed in my neck. She was there. She was trapped in a prison of drugs and silence, holding the key to my brother’s death.
"I'm going to get you out," I whispered. "But you have to stay quiet. I'm going to be watched. Celeste is watching. If she realizes you’re aware, she'll kill you before I can save you."
I squeezed her hand. Her fingers were ice-cold, but they tightened around mine with a sudden, startling strength.
I left the room, my mind reeling. I needed to find a way to extract the information without alerting the snakes. I went down to the kitchen, where the staff was preparing dinner. I saw the head cook, a man named Mateo who had been with the family since before I was born. He was the only one who didn't seem to be under Celeste's spell.
I caught his eye. He looked away, but I saw the flicker of recognition. I walked over, my voice low. "Mateo. The tea you brew for my mother in the evenings. Do you make it yourself?"
He looked down, his hands busy with a chopping block. "Yes, sir. Just as she likes it. A bit of honey, a bit of chamomile."
"From now on, I make the tea," I said, my tone brooking no argument. "The doctor said she needs a new regimen. I’ll be handling her food and drink personally. And Mateo?"
He looked up.
"Don't tell anyone."
He nodded once, a quick, sharp motion. "Understood, boss."
As I turned to leave, I saw Celeste standing in the doorway, her reflection in the glass cabinet catching my eye. She was watching, her lips pressed into a thin, tight line. I didn't give her the satisfaction of looking away. I walked right up to her, took her hand, and kissed her knuckles.
"Thinking about the wedding," I lied, my voice dripping with honey. "It’s going to be the event of the season, isn't it?"
May you like
Her face softened, the suspicion vanishing behind that polished, socialite mask. "It will be perfect, Elias. Everything will be perfect."
I smiled back, knowing that underneath the silk and the perfume, there was a black hole of deception, and I was going to be the one to drag her into it. I had the boss's power, but now, for the first time, I had a cause. And a cause was far more dangerous than any weapon I had ever held. I walked out into the night, the snow falling thicker than before, and for the first time in six years, I felt like I was finally seeing the board. The game was mine to lose, and I had no intention of losing.
