Chapter 2 - THE HUSBAND WHO NEVER DIED
Hannah’s husband was alive.
His name was Ethan Carter.
Adrian remembered the story differently.
A construction accident two years earlier.
Widow.
Small child.
Hannah needed work.
Mrs. Ricci recommended her.
That was how she entered the estate.
Apparently almost all of it was true.
Except the widow part.
Ethan had survived the accident.
Barely.
Then disappeared.
“Why?”
Hannah sat across from Adrian in the private study while Lily colored lions at the far end of the room.
“He worked for Moretti Logistics.”
Adrian frowned.
“In what department?”
“Compliance.”
That mattered.
Compliance people saw things men like Dominic preferred hidden.
Hannah continued.
Ethan discovered irregular shipments routed through a Moretti subsidiary in Newark.
Nothing explosive.
No dramatic crates.
Just invoices.
Duplicate manifests.
Insurance values that did not match cargo.
Money moving through freight companies that existed only on paper.
“He thought Dominic was stealing?”
“He didn’t know.”
“What did he do?”
“Reported it internally.”
“To who?”
“Dominic.”
Of course.
Ethan believed Dominic was helping Adrian manage company operations while Adrian’s insomnia worsened.
He thought Dominic would investigate quietly.
Instead, three days later, Ethan’s truck was hit on an icy highway.
Police called it an accident.
Hannah believed it too.
Then Ethan woke in the hospital and said someone had tampered with the brakes.
Adrian’s face hardened.
“Proof?”
“No.”
Good.
Facts first.
“But he had more.”
“What?”
“Copies of the shipping records.”
“Where?”
“He hid them.”
Then Dominic visited the hospital.
Alone.
Hannah had been downstairs with doctors.
When she returned, Ethan was terrified.
“He told me Dominic said the accident should have killed him.”
Adrian felt something inside him go still.
“Exact words?”
“Yes.”
“What happened after?”
Ethan vanished the next night.
Not abducted.
He left.
With help from someone inside Moretti security.
Who?
Matteo Russo.
Adrian stared.
Matteo had never told him.
When confronted later that afternoon, Matteo did not deny it.
“I thought keeping Ethan alive mattered more than telling you.”
Adrian’s voice was cold.
“You made that choice for me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You could barely remember meetings by then.”
That hurt because it was true.
Three years of almost no sleep had changed Adrian.
He had become suspicious.
Sharp-tempered.
Forgetful.
The very condition that made Dominic stronger also made everyone else less willing to trust Adrian with dangerous information.
Matteo continued.
“Ethan believed someone was weakening you.”
“Why didn’t you test the tea then?”
“We didn’t know about tea.”
“What did he know?”
Ethan saw Dominic leaving Adrian’s private kitchen one night holding a small dropper bottle.
He thought nothing of it.
Then later noticed Dominic always insisted on bringing Adrian’s evening tea personally.
“Why didn’t Ethan tell Hannah sooner?”
“He did.”
Hannah looked ashamed.
“I thought stress had made him paranoid.”
Adrian understood that too well.
Then Matteo’s secure phone rang.
The laboratory.
Preliminary analysis.
Something was in the tea.
Not poison in the dramatic sense.
A prescription compound.
Normally used in carefully controlled doses for neurological conditions.
One side effect at improper repeated exposure?
Sleep disruption.
Agitation.
Tremor.
Memory problems.
Exactly Adrian’s symptoms.
His stomach turned.
“How much?”
“Enough to matter.”
“Could it explain three years?”
“Not by one sample alone.”
Again.
Facts.
They needed hair analysis.
Blood work.
Old medical records.
Then another compound appeared.
A stimulant metabolite.
Small amount.
Enough to interfere with deep sleep.
Two drugs working against each other.
One destabilizing neurological regulation.
One preventing restorative sleep.
Matteo whispered:
“Someone built your symptoms.”
Adrian stood.
Not anger.
Clarity.
For three years, doctors had adjusted medications around symptoms someone may have been manufacturing.
Every new prescription possibly interacting with whatever Dominic put in his tea.
Every failure making Adrian look sicker.
More unstable.
More dependent.
Then Hannah said:
“There’s something else.”
She opened an old email Ethan had sent to a hidden account before disappearing.
Subject:
IF ADRIAN STARTS FORGETTING.
Inside:
Check board authorizations signed after midnight meetings.
Adrian stopped breathing.
“Why?”
Because during his worst months, Dominic often brought documents late at night.
“Just routine approvals.”
Adrian signed.
He trusted his brother.
Matteo pulled corporate records.
Three years.
Hundreds of authorizations.
Most legitimate.
Then one pattern emerged.
Every major transfer of voting authority to Dominic had been signed after 10 p.m.
After tea.
Adrian stared at the screen.
Not one document.
Dozens.
Then Matteo opened the latest board record.
Effective next month:
Dominic Moretti to receive permanent executive control if Adrian is declared medically incapable by two approved physicians.
Adrian looked up.
“Which physicians?”
Matteo read the names.
Both had treated Adrian.
Both told him his insomnia might be degenerative.
May you like
Both were on Moretti Foundation grant boards.
And both had been recommended by Dominic.
