Chapter 2 - THE DIAGNOSIS SHE HID FROM ME
I forgot about divorce.
I forgot about pride.
I forgot every carefully constructed rule that had governed our marriage.
“What do you mean it wasn't an accident?”
Alina wrapped her arms around herself.
“I don't want to discuss this tonight.”
“Six months.”
She flinched.
“You've known for six months.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“What was I supposed to say?”
“The truth.”
A bitter laugh escaped her.
“That's easy for you.”
I stared at her.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“You don't tell me everything either, Dante.”
She was right.
I hated that she was right.
My business required confidentiality. Some of my family's affairs were darker than I wanted her near. I had spent three years telling myself secrecy protected her.
Apparently, she'd learned the same lesson.
I lowered my voice.
“Tell me what happened.”
Alina sat slowly.
I remained standing because I wasn't sure my legs would work if I stopped moving.
“Last winter, I collapsed at the charity gala.”
I remembered.
She'd disappeared for twenty minutes.
When she returned, she'd said the champagne hadn't agreed with her.
“You told me you were sick.”
“I was.”
“What happened?”
“A doctor examined me privately. Later, I started having pain. I thought it was stress.”
Her hands tightened together.
“Then I began bleeding.”
My chest went cold.
“Why didn't you call me?”
“You were in Singapore.”
“I would have come home.”
“I know.”
Those two words hurt more than an accusation.
She knew.
She still hadn't called.
“I went to Dr. Brennan. She found internal scarring.”
Alina swallowed.
“At first, she thought it came from an old medical condition. But I never had one.”
“What caused it?”
“She isn't certain.”
“Alina.”
“She found evidence suggesting I had been exposed to a medication I was never prescribed.”
The room became very still.
“What medication?”
“A hormone suppressant.”
I stared at her.
“Someone gave you medication without your knowledge?”
“She can't prove it.”
“Who had access to you?”
“I don't know.”
“What did you eat? Drink?”
Her expression changed.
I saw it immediately.
“Alina.”
She looked away.
“At the gala, I had tea.”
“Who brought it?”
“I don't remember.”
“That isn't true.”
She closed her eyes.
“I don't want you doing something reckless.”
“Who?”
“Dante—”
“Who gave you the tea?”
Her voice became almost inaudible.
“Your mother.”
I stopped moving.
My mother.
Caterina Moretti.
The elegant widow who had spent three years treating Alina with flawless politeness and almost no affection.
“That doesn't mean she put anything in it,” Alina rushed to say. “She handed me the cup. That's all.”
I could barely hear her.
My mother had wanted grandchildren since the day I turned thirty.
She had also strongly opposed my marriage to Alina because Alina wasn't from one of the old families my mother considered suitable.
Still, poisoning my wife?
Impossible.
It had to be.
Then Alina stood.
“There is something else.”
I looked at her.
She hesitated.
“Two days after the gala, someone broke into my bathroom.”
“What?”
“Nothing was stolen.”
“You reported this?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because the only thing moved was my medication cabinet.”
Every instinct I possessed sharpened.
“Who knew?”
“My mother.”
“Anyone else?”
Alina looked directly at me.
May you like
Then whispered:
“Your brother.”
