Chapter 3 - The Art of Subversion
Z
By seven o'clock that evening, the sky above the estate had turned a bruised shade of purple. Rain began to tap rhythmically against the dining room windows, mirroring the storm brewing silently within the mansion’s walls.
Adrian stood in front of the ornate gilded mirror in the foyer. He intentionally unbuttoned his collar, loosened his silk tie, and rubbed his palms vigorously over his eyes until the skin around them appeared flushed and inflamed. He let his shoulders slump forward, assuming the posture of a beaten man who could barely support the weight of his own head.
When the front doorbell chimed, Adrian did not rush. He walked with an unsteady, dragging gait toward the entrance.
Dominic stood on the porch, shaking water from an expensive cashmere coat. At twenty-eight, his younger brother possessed the effortless charisma that had once made their father beam with pride. He carried a silver-trimmed thermos in his left hand and a sleek leather briefcase in his right.
“Adrian,” Dominic greeted warmly, stepping inside and pulling his brother into an affectionate, one-armed embrace. “You look exhausted, man. Still no luck with that new prescription from Zurich?”
“Three hours last night,” Adrian lied, slurring his words ever so slightly as he turned back toward the living room. “Maybe four. I woke up around three in the morning with my heart pounding so hard I thought my ribs would crack.”
Dominic sighed with profound theatrical sympathy, placing a hand on Adrian’s back as they walked. “I told you, you need to step back completely. You’re killing yourself for an empire that’s already built. Let me carry the load for six months. Just go to Tuscany, disconnect your phone, and let Vance and me handle the board.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Adrian muttered, dropping heavily into the deep leather armchair opposite the marble fireplace. “I can’t keep living like this, Dom. My hands were shaking so badly this morning I couldn't even sign the payroll authorization.”
Dominic’s eyes lit up with an imperceptible flicker of predatory triumph. He walked directly to the bar cart, setting down the silver thermos.
“Don't worry about payroll,” Dominic said smoothly, unscrewing the lid. “I had Vance draft an executive resolution this afternoon. If you sign the temporary emergency transfer, I can authorize all corporate disbursements directly from my desk. You won't have to look at another spreadsheet until spring.”
Dominic reached for the porcelain cup Adrian had deliberately left on the marble tray. With practiced, casual ease, Dominic turned his back slightly toward Adrian, shielding his chest. From his tailored jacket pocket, he produced an unmarked amber dropper bottle.
Adrian watched the reflection in the polished glass of the framed artwork hanging above the bar.
With mechanical precision, Dominic squeezed three clear, oily drops into the bottom of the cup, followed immediately by steaming amber liquid from the thermos. The sweet, floral aroma of bergamot and lavender bloomed instantly in the warm room, designed to mask the sharp chemical bite of the concentrated stimulant beneath it.
Dominic turned around, carrying the cup with both hands like an offering.
“Drink this,” Dominic urged gently, placing it on the coaster beside Adrian’s chair. “It’s the special herbal blend Mrs. Ricci sourced from that monastery in Umbria. It should take the edge off your nerves.”
“Thank you, Dom,” Adrian whispered, his voice trembling convincingly. “I don't know what I’d do without you these days.”
“You’re my brother,” Dominic said softly, crouching down beside Adrian’s chair so their eyes met at level height. “Family comes before everything. You know that.”
Adrian reached for the cup with visibly trembling fingers. He lifted it toward his lips, letting the steam warm his face. Dominic watched him with unwavering intensity, his pupils dilated with anticipation.
Just as the rim touched Adrian’s lips, a loud crash echoed from the hallway, followed by a child’s startled sob.
Dominic flinched, glancing toward the arched doorway. “What the hell was that?”
“It’s Nora’s little girl,” Adrian said, wincing in annoyance. “She dropped a ceramic vase in the parlor earlier, too. The woman can’t keep her child under control.”
Dominic shook his head in disgust. “You need to fire her, Adrian. You can’t have noise and chaos in this house when you’re dealing with severe nervous exhaustion. I’ll handle Nora’s severance tomorrow.”
Dominic stood up and marched toward the doorway to investigate the disturbance.
The second Dominic’s back cleared the frame, Adrian moved with lethal speed. He reached into his trouser pocket, produced a small, sterile plastic specimen tube Gabriel had provided, uncapped it with his thumb, and decanted half of the hot tea into the vial. He snapped the tube shut, dropped it into his deep pocket, and poured the remaining liquid into the base of a massive potted ficus tree beside his chair.
When Dominic returned two seconds later, shaking his head after finding only an empty hallway where Nora had deliberately dropped a silver serving tray on Adrian’s prior instruction, Adrian was sitting back against the cushions.
The porcelain cup sat completely empty on the side table.
May you like
Adrian wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, looking up at his brother with glazed, tired eyes.
“It was delicious,” Adrian murmured. “Now show me those emergency papers Vance prepared for the board.”
