Chapter 4 - the poison at the table
The wine cellar beneath the main house was cold, damp, and smelled of old oak barrels and stone. High arched ceilings held centuries of dust, casting long shadows across the concrete floor.
Arthur Vance sat tied to a heavy wooden chair in the center of the room. The fifty-five-year-old financial advisor was sweating profusely, his expensive gray suit disheveled, his glasses crooked on his nose.
Dominic stood ten feet away, leaning against a massive wine cask, tossing the fireproof steel box from the boathouse gently in his hands.
"You've been managing Marcella's offshore accounts for fifteen years, Arthur," Dominic said softly, his voice echoing in the quiet vault. "Tell me about the transfers to Zurich."
Arthur swallowed hard, his eyes darting frantically toward the stairs. "Dominic... please... I was just following orders! Marcella told me the money was for Julian's private estate upkeep! I didn't know the child was alive!"
"You signed twelve authorization forms every year, Arthur," Elise said, stepping out from the shadows beside her uncle. She wore a clean wool sweater, her dark hair pinned back, her expression steady and cold. "My name was on every single tax return you filed."
Arthur stared at Elise, his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. "Miss... Miss Ravello... I swear on my life—"
"Don't bother lying to her," Dominic interrupted, stepping forward until his massive frame blocked out the light above Arthur. "The steel box from the boathouse contained your private ledger, Arthur. The one where you recorded your ten percent commission for keeping Marcella's secret."
Arthur went pale as paper. "Dominic... if you kill me, the council in New York will freeze all family accounts! I am the registered executor of the Midwestern trust!"
"Then you will sign the transfer documents releasing the trust to Elise tonight," Dominic said, setting a stack of legal papers and a fountain pen on a barrel beside him.
Arthur took a ragged breath, his trembling hands reaching for the pen as Marcus untied his right arm. "Fine... fine! I'll sign everything! Just let me leave the state!"
Arthur leaned over the barrel, uncapping the pen. But as his fingers touched the paper, his body suddenly locked rigid.
His eyes widened in shock, his face turning a dark, bruised purple as he gasped for air! He clutched his throat, his body convulsing violently before he collapsed forward onto the wooden barrel, completely still.
Marcus rushed forward, checking Arthur's pulse, then looking up at Dominic in disbelief. "Cyanide, boss. The pen was coated with contact poison."
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Dominic looked at the dead advisor, then turned his gaze toward the stairs. Standing near the top flight of stone steps, holding a empty velvet pen case, was Marcella's twenty-two-year-old son, Julian Jr.
The young man stared down at them with cold, arrogant eyes before turning and vanishing into the upper hallway.
