Chapter 3 - What Elena KnewIsabella returned to the Ventresca estate forty-eight hours later.
Isabella’s breathing had improved after the epinephrine, but not enough to calm anyone.
An oxygen mask covered her face.
A paramedic monitored her blood pressure.
Another asked Alessandro questions.
“Known allergies?”
“Shellfish.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Medication?”
“None.”
Hattie frowned.
The pastry on Isabella’s carpet had been almond-filled.
That didn’t fit.
When the ambulance reached St. Catherine’s Hospital, Alessandro followed the gurney through emergency doors until a nurse stopped him.
“You’ll have to wait here.”
“That’s my daughter.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
Hattie touched his arm.
It was instinctive.
Alessandro looked down at her hand.
She quickly removed it.
“She’s breathing,” Hattie said. “Let them work.”
His jaw tightened.
But he stayed.
For nearly forty minutes, Alessandro paced the waiting room like a caged animal.
Hattie sat quietly in her damp uniform.
Eventually he stopped.
“How did you know?”
She looked up.
“Know what?”
“What was happening.”
“My sister has severe allergies.”
“To almonds?”
“Several things.”
Alessandro glanced toward the emergency-room doors.
“I should have known.”
“Parents don’t know everything.”
His eyes hardened.
“I should.”
Hattie studied him.
“That sounds exhausting.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
A physician finally approached.
“Mr. Ventresca?”
Alessandro crossed the room.
“How is she?”
“Stable. We’re keeping her for observation because she had a serious biphasic reaction risk.”
“What caused it?”
“We’re not certain yet.”
“She ate pastry.”
The doctor looked at Hattie.
“You saw what she ate?”
“Yes. Almond pastry.”
The doctor checked the chart.
“That’s interesting. Her previous testing didn’t indicate a tree-nut allergy.”
Alessandro’s expression changed.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we need additional tests.”
Hattie asked, “Could something have been added?”
The doctor paused.
“It’s possible.”
Alessandro went still.
Dangerous still.
“Added?”
“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
But Alessandro already had.
Someone inside his house had nearly killed Isabella.
By noon, two of his security men were reviewing kitchen footage.
Every package of food in the mansion was sealed.
Every employee was questioned.
Hattie was questioned twice.
The strangest part came that evening.
Isabella asked for her.
Alessandro entered his daughter’s hospital room first.
She looked small beneath the white blankets.
Her dark hair spread across the pillow.
“You scared me,” he said.
Isabella looked away.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Can Hattie come in?”
His brows lifted.
“This morning you wanted her fired.”
“I know.”
“Now you want her here?”
Isabella’s eyes flashed.
“I said I know.”
Alessandro studied her before opening the door.
Hattie entered.
She had changed into borrowed hospital scrubs after one of Alessandro’s men brought her clothes from the mansion.
Isabella stared at her.
Hattie stopped near the foot of the bed.
“You asked for me?”
Isabella swallowed.
“Did you know I could die?”
“Yes.”
“How fast?”
“Fast.”
Isabella’s fingers tightened around the blanket.
Hattie saw the fear she was trying to hide.
“What did it feel like?” Alessandro asked.
Isabella ignored him.
She kept looking at Hattie.
“I couldn’t breathe.”
“I know.”
“I thought…”
Her voice cracked.
She stopped.
Hattie came closer.
“You thought you were dying.”
Isabella nodded.
Silence stretched between them.
Then Isabella whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Alessandro looked stunned.
Hattie didn’t.
“For what?”
“The water.”
“Only the water?”
Isabella glared.
Hattie raised one eyebrow.
Against all odds, Alessandro gave a short laugh.
Isabella stared at him.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
He covered his mouth.
“Yes.”
Hattie smiled faintly.
Isabella rolled her eyes.
Then, to everyone’s surprise, she smiled too.
It lasted only a second.
But Alessandro saw it.
He had not seen that expression on his daughter’s face in years.
Hattie noticed him watching.
His face had softened.
That frightened her more than his anger.
Because beneath the rumors, beneath the power and violence surrounding the Ventresca name, Hattie suddenly saw something painfully ordinary.
A father who missed his child even while she was sitting three feet away.
Later that evening, security chief Marco Santori entered the room.
He was Alessandro’s oldest friend, a compact man with gray at his temples and the watchfulness of someone who trusted nobody.
“We reviewed the cameras.”
Alessandro stood.
“And?”
“The pastry tray arrived at 7:14.”
“From where?”
“The bakery Isabella uses every Sunday.”
Marco looked toward Isabella.
“But the box was left unattended in the service corridor for three minutes.”
“Who was there?”
“One camera was disabled.”
Alessandro’s expression darkened.
“Disabled?”
“Exactly three minutes.”
Hattie felt a chill.
Marco continued.
“We also found residue inside the pastry.”
“What residue?”
The answer made the room colder.
“Crushed cashews mixed with a concentrated extract.”
The doctor frowned.
“That amount could easily have triggered what we saw.”
Isabella whispered, “But why?”
Nobody answered.
Alessandro looked toward Marco.
“Lock the estate down.”
Isabella sat upright.
“What does that mean?”
“No one enters without approval.”
“Dad—”
“And no one leaves.”
Hattie stiffened.
Alessandro noticed.
“You’re not a prisoner.”
“Then I’m going home.”
Isabella’s face changed.
“No.”
Hattie looked at her.
“You’ll be safe.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
The fear in Isabella’s voice silenced the room.
She reached toward Hattie’s hand but stopped before touching it.
“Please stay tonight.”
Hattie stared at the young woman who had humiliated her hours earlier.
Part of her wanted to refuse.
Another part remembered how terrified Isabella had looked on the floor.
“One night,” Hattie said.
Isabella exhaled.
May you like
Alessandro watched them.
He didn’t know it yet, but one night was about to uncover a secret buried inside his family for five years.
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