Chapter 3: The Smile That Lasted One Second
Celeste recovered faster than Lorenzo expected.
That told him something.
"Where did you find that?" she asked.
Her voice was calm.
Curious, even.
The voice of a woman asking about a misplaced earring.
"Mia found it," Lorenzo said.
"In the wheelchair."
"How strange." Celeste stepped into the sunroom.
"It could be anything.
Something that fell out of a pocket.
One of the staff, perhaps."
"It's a nerve suppression compound," Lorenzo said.
"Experimental.
Not available in Italy without a specific private prescription."
Celeste's eyes moved to Mia again.
"Darling," she said, her voice dropping to something soft and almost gentle, "why don't you go find your mother?
I think she's in the east corridor."
Mia didn't move.
She looked at Lorenzo.
He gave her one small nod toward the door.
"Go find Rosa.
Stay with her."
Mia picked up the copper basin.
She walked past Celeste without looking at her.
At the doorway she paused.
"I dropped the other one near the left wheel," she said quietly.
Then she was gone.
Dante was already moving toward the wheelchair.
Celeste watched him.
Something shifted behind her eyes — not fear exactly.
Calculation.
"Lorenzo," she said.
"You're not seriously suggesting—"
"I'm not suggesting anything yet."
"Good.
Because this is insulting." Her chin came up.
"I have spent fourteen months by your side.
I cancelled my life for you.
I turned this house into something you could actually live in—"
"You redesigned the east wing," Lorenzo said.
"You hired a new physio team.
You recommended two of the three specialists."
Silence.
"That's not—"
"You also," Lorenzo said, "had full access to this wheelchair every day.
You were the one who insisted on the custom cushioning.
I remember because I told you it wasn't necessary and you said comfort was important for long-term nerve health."
Celeste's mouth opened.
Closed.
Dante stood up from beside the wheelchair.
He was holding a small evidence bag.
Inside it, the second capsule.
"Both of them," he said.
Lorenzo looked at Celeste for a long moment.
She had been beautiful when he met her.
She was still beautiful now.
He had mistaken that for honesty once.
He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
"Get out of this room," he said quietly.
"Don't leave the estate."
"You can't—"
"Celeste." His voice didn't rise.
It never needed to.
"Get out of this room."
She left.
The heels on the marble were faster this time.
Dante sealed the evidence bag and looked at him.
"I'll call Dr.
Ferrante.
If anyone can identify the compound and trace the prescription chain, it's him."
"Do that." Lorenzo looked at his hand — still closed around the first capsule.
"And Dante.
Find out who else knew."
Dante's expression didn't change.
But he understood what Lorenzo was really asking.
May you like
Not just Celeste.
Who else in this house had watched him sit in that wheelchair for fourteen months and said nothing?
