A Little Girl Noticed Something Nobody Else Did About My Medication—Then One Silver Cap Revealed Who Had Been Poisoning Me.

Marco kicked the small bottle up into his palm, his jaw set so tight a muscle twitched in his cheek. He held it out to Damian.

Damian didn't look at the liquid inside. His piercing eyes stayed locked on the silver cap, tracing the clean, razor-sharp engraving of the D.V. crest. His breath caught in his throat—a rare crack in his impenetrable armor.

"Where did you get this?" Damian demanded, his raspy voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Mara rushed forward, pulling Lila behind her skirt, her heart hammering against her ribs. "She found it on the floor in the west gallery this afternoon, sir! I thought it was just trash... I swear she didn't touch what was inside—"

"I'm not asking you, maid," Damian growled, though his eyes never left his security chief. "Marco. Who had access to my private vault in Chicago?"

"No one, Boss," Marco said, his voice dropping an octave. "Not since your brother's funeral. That seal was buried with Viktor."

"Then why is his personal flask sitting in my hallway filled with lethal heart suppressants?" Damian pushed himself up, ignoring the brutal wave of dizziness that made his vision blur.

Lila peeked out from behind her mother’s dress. She tapped Mara's hip twice, signing rapidly: Scared man. Red ring.

Mara looked down, confused. "Lila, what red ring?"

Before Lila could answer, the floorboards outside the threshold creaked again. Marco spun around, drawing his suppressed sidearm in one fluid motion, and bolted into the dark corridor. Heavy footsteps echoed down the grand staircase, followed by the muffled sound of a struggle and a glass display case shattering on the landing below.

"Marco!" Damian barked, attempting to swing his legs over the side of the bed, but his knee buckled under his compromised weight.

Mara instinctively lunged forward, catching Damian by the forearm before he hit the hardwood floor.

For a second, their eyes met—his cold gray gaze locked onto her trembling brown eyes. Up close, Mara felt the sheer power radiating from him, even in his weakened state. But Damian didn't shove her away. He noticed the faint silver scar running along the base of her throat—a mark identical to one he had seen years ago on someone else.

"You've been in this house three months," Damian whispered, his hand clamping around her wrist, not with cruelty, but with desperate intensity. "Who hired you?"

"The agency in town... Mrs. Gable," Mara stammered, trying to pull back without setting off the dangerous man. "I just clean! I needed the work to pay for Lila’s therapy!"

Downstairs, a single gunshot echoed through the high ceilings of Grayhaven House.

Mara gasped, throwing her arms over Lila as the house went deathly quiet.

Footsteps rushed back up the stairs. Marco re-entered the room, breathing heavily, a streak of plaster dust across his dark jacket. In his hand, he held a torn piece of fabric and a brass key card stained with dark grease.

"He got through the service entrance," Marco reported, his voice dark. "Dropped this when I tackled him."

Damian stared at the key card. It wasn't an entry pass for Grayhaven House. It was an executive access key for the St. Jude Children’s Research Wing in downtown Boston.

"Check the security feed," Damian ordered coldly. "Now."

"Already did on my comms while chasing him," Marco replied, stepping closer so Mara couldn't hear, though the room was small enough that every word carried. "The hall camera outside your room was looped starting at 8:00 PM. But whoever did it didn't use a hack from the outside."

Damian’s eyes narrowed into slits. "It was done from the master terminal inside this house."

Marco nodded grimly. "There are only three master terminals, Boss. Yours, mine..." He hesitated, looking pointedly at Damian.