The Mafia Boss Watched His Maid on Camera—Then He Discovered Who Was Trying to Kill His Mother

My security badge was in my pocket. My fingerprints were on no console except the one downstairs. Still, Victor showed me a log with my name stamped beside eleven midnight deletions.

"A software error," I said.

"Maybe. But we can't ignore the possibility someone has your credentials."

"Lock the system. Preserve everything."

"Already done."

That was Victor's gift. He was always one step ahead, and for most of my life I had called that loyalty.

When he left, I watched him walk to the elevator instead of his office. He pressed the button for the garage.

I went back inside.

Elena was replacing the damp washcloth on my mother's forehead.

"Can you tell me about the pill?" I asked.

"Not while she's exhausted."

"This is important."

"So is letting her rest."

I looked at my mother. Her eyes were closed, but her fingers still held the edge of Elena's sleeve.

"Five minutes," I said.

In the hallway, Elena told me she had been a certified nursing assistant at Harbor View Rehabilitation before she took the housekeeper job. She had reported a manager for altering patient records. Her contract ended a week later.

"You could have put that on your application."

"I did. Someone removed it from the copy your staff handed you."

Another small fact that didn't fit.

"Why take a cleaning job?"

"Rent. Groceries. The usual glamorous reasons."

I almost smiled. She didn't.

"And because your mother deserved someone who would look at her face before looking at her chart."

I called a physician I trusted from an old charity board. Dr. Naomi Park answered on the fourth ring. She agreed to examine Teresa, review the medication records, and bring a hospital pharmacist.

By six, rain was beating against the west windows.

Dr. Park studied the care chart at the kitchen island while Elena made coffee neither of us touched.

"There are gaps," Park said. "Repeated entries without matching administration notes. I'll need the original pharmacy records to sort this out."

"Can she recover?"

"I can't promise that. But I don't accept that her recent decline is inevitable."

She looked at Elena's tissue, then at me.

"Where did you find this?"

"In my mother's mouth."

"Keep it secured. We'll arrange proper testing."

I handed her the locked medicine drawer. Inside were neat blister packs, all with printed labels. One strip was different. The numbers had been scratched off.

Dr. Park held it beneath the light.

"Rafe, who has access to this room after midnight?"

I told her about the missing footage.

Elena had gone pale.

"Eleven nights?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then you need to see the laundry room, too. Every morning there's a new hospital sheet in the bin. Your mother hasn't left her bed."