Chapter 4 - The Poisoned Pitcher
"She slashed me with a broken glass, sir," I whispered, holding my bleeding ribs. "Because I saw what she poured into the wine."
Dante froze. He looked down at the heavy silver wine pitcher he had just taken from my hands.
"What are you talking about?!" Isabella wailed hysterically, her eyes darting frantically toward the exits. "Dante, she is hallucinating! She is losing blood and making up stories to ruin our marriage! I would never hurt you!"
I didn't back down. I pointed a trembling, bloodstained finger directly at the silver pitcher.
"She ordered me to pour your glass first, Mr. Moretti," I stated with absolute, unbreakable conviction. "She poured a lethal, untraceable cardiac paralytic into that specific pitcher before the guests arrived. If you take one sip, your heart will stop within three minutes, and they will call it a tragic medical aneurysm."
The silence in the dining room was absolute, deafening, and terrifying.
Carlo, the older cartel boss, began to sweat profusely. He slowly slid his hand toward the inside of his grey suit jacket, reaching for a concealed weapon.
Dante didn't look at Carlo. The terrifying, untouchable apex predator of the underworld slowly turned his head to look at his beautiful, treacherous wife.
He released her wrist. He gently placed the silver wine pitcher onto the pristine white tablecloth directly in front of her. He picked up an empty crystal wine glass and poured a generous measure of the dark red liquid.
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"Drink it," Dante commanded softly, his eyes completely devoid of any human mercy.
👉 Isabella stared at the poisoned wine, realizing she was entirely trapped in a lethal, inescapable corner.
