Chapter 2 - Traces in the Blood
Dr. Michael Grant arrived seventeen minutes later. He had treated Adrian’s family for nearly a decade and knew not to ask unnecessary questions about why certain injuries happened or why certain people required discretion. Tonight, however, there were no injuries to explain.
Michael knelt beside Claire, took her blood pressure, checked her pupils, examined her breathing, and started fluids. Lily watched everything, holding her ragged rabbit tight.
“Does that needle hurt?” she asked quietly.
“A little,” Michael said softly. “Will Mommy be mad?”
“Why would she be mad?”
“She doesn't like needles.”
Michael smiled gently. “Most people don't.”
“Mr. Adrian says she's going to wake up.”
Michael glanced toward Adrian, who held his gaze steadily. Michael understood the assignment. “Then I'd say your mother has two people making sure of it.”
Twenty minutes later, Claire had been moved to the bed, her color slowly returning under the IV treatment. Michael stepped into the dim hallway with Adrian.
“She collapsed from exhaustion, dehydration, and low blood pressure,” Michael explained in a low voice. “Her body has been running on empty for a long time.”
“Anything else?” Adrian asked, noticing the doctor’s hesitation.
“There’s something in her system. A sedative. Mild, but she shouldn’t be taking anything like that when she’s this depleted.”
“Prescription?”
“I found no bottle in her room.”
“Could she have taken it herself?”
“Possible,” Michael admitted, looking back toward the room. “But I don't believe that.”
“Why?”
“The puncture mark on her arm is extremely fresh—less than two hours old. And the angle suggests it was administered by someone else from behind or while she was distracted. Someone dosed her, Adrian.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened. The implication was stark: an intruder or an insider had poisoned or sedated a maid under his roof. He walked back into the room where Lily was sitting on the edge of her mother’s bed, resting her small head against Claire’s hip.
“Daniel,” Adrian spoke into his phone without turning around. “I want every security footage feed from the last six hours pulled and delivered to my office. Check the outer perimeter fence along the east wood line. I want to know who stepped onto this property.”
“Understood, boss,” Daniel replied. “I’m already pulling the logs. But sir, the security system didn’t flag any motion anomalies.”
“Then someone knows how to bypass our system,” Adrian said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. “Or someone handed them the codes.”
He looked down at Claire. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, but she remained trapped in a deep, drug-induced sleep. The woman he had passed in the halls dozens of times—the woman who carried clean linens and kept her head bowed—was suddenly the epicenter of a storm that had reached into his private sanctuary.
“Lily,” Adrian said softly, kneeling back down so he was at eye level with the little girl. “I need you to listen to me very carefully.”
The girl looked at him with dark, solemn eyes. “Is Mommy awake?”
“Not yet. But the doctor is taking care of her. I need to know: did you see anyone in this room before your mommy fell?”
Lily hesitated, playing with her rabbit's frayed ear. “I heard a man’s voice. In the kitchen area outside. Mommy told me to stay under the blanket and close my eyes.”
“Did he say anything to her?”
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“He said... he said 'Victor wants what is his.' Then Mommy cried. And then I heard the glass break.”
Adrian felt a cold fire ignite in his chest. Victor Kane wasn't just a rival in Chicago's organized crime network; he was a ruthless operator attempting to expand his territory by any means necessary. If Kane was hunting Claire Bennett, it meant Claire was far more than just a housemaid escaping a tough past.
