Chapter 2 - The Poisoned Powder
“I asked you a question, Sarah,” Dominic repeated, his voice dropping into a deadly register that silenced even the quiet ambient hum of the restaurant’s string quartet. “Who prepared Caleb’s bottle?”
The nanny’s knuckles turned white against the handle of the leather baby bag. “It… it was prepared in the nursery before we left, Mr. Mercer. Mrs. Vance packed the bag.”
Claire swirled the liquid again, letting a droplet fall onto her wrist, then touched it cautiously to the tip of her tongue. Her brows pulled together tightly. It wasn't spoiled milk, nor was it a simple miscalculation of scoops.
“It’s not just diluted,” Claire said firmly, looking straight at Dominic. “It’s contaminated. There’s a bitter chemical residue—likely a heavy concentrate of anti-colic drops mixed with a mild sedative or concentrated salt solution to induce dehydration and gastrointestinal distress. Someone isn't trying to feed your son, Mr. Mercer. Someone is actively making him sick, day by day.”
Dominic’s gray eyes flashed with cold rage. He reached out and gently, yet instinctively, pulled Caleb closer against his broad chest. The baby’s cries began to soften as Claire took a small damp cloth from her purse, wiped Caleb’s mouth gently, and gently massaged his lower abdomen the way she used to do for Emma. Within minutes, the infant gave a long, exhausted sigh and buried his small face into Dominic’s shoulder, resting at last.
Dominic looked from his sleeping son to Claire, his harsh expression shifting into something intensely focused. “Ben,” Dominic ordered without breaking eye contact with Claire. “Take Sarah into custody. Do not let her leave the harbor house until I personally ask her questions. And bring Dr. Ross directly to my estate.”
“Right away, boss,” Ben replied, motioning to two men near the entrance who promptly flanked the trembling nanny and escorted her out through the side doors.
Dominic turned back to Claire, assessing her cheap coat, her exhausted eyes, and the fiercely protective warmth in her demeanor.
“You just saved my son from further harm,” Dominic said, his tone no longer cold, but laced with grave authority. “And you exposed something in my household I was blind to. What is your name?”
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“Claire. Claire Sullivan.”
“Well, Claire Sullivan,” Dominic said, stepping closer, “you came here tonight waiting for an attorney who isn't coming. Now, you are coming with me. Because whoever tried to poison my son is going to answer for it—and I need someone I can trust to keep Caleb safe while I clean house.”
