Chapter 2 - The Glass of Water That Changed Everything
“No,” Maeve whispered. “I'm scared of the people who don't want us helping him.”
She hadn't intended to say it.
But Danny heard.
And so did Bridget Halloran, standing motionless at the kitchen entrance.
For several seconds, the elderly housekeeper looked as though someone had struck her.
“Take your brother home,” Bridget said.
“Mrs. Halloran—”
“Now.”
Maeve gathered Danny's coat and lunch bag. But before she could reach the servants' entrance, a violent coughing fit echoed through the ceiling.
Then came a crash.
Glass breaking.
And silence.
Maeve turned toward the staircase.
Bridget caught her wrist.
“Don't.”
“He could be choking.”
“Mr. Pike is responsible for him.”
“Then where is Mr. Pike?”
Bridget's grip loosened.
Neither woman spoke.
Maeve looked at Danny.
“Stay here.”
She ran upstairs.
The bedroom door stood partially open.
Inside, Emmett Castellano lay twisted against his pillows, one arm hanging over the edge of the mattress. A shattered drinking glass glittered on the carpet.
His face was pale and damp.
His breathing sounded wrong.
Maeve crossed the room and checked his responsiveness.
“Mr. Castellano? Can you hear me?”
His eyes opened slightly.
“Water.”
His voice was barely audible.
She noticed the untouched pitcher on the bedside table, the cracked lips, the damp sheets beneath his shoulder, and the red pressure marks visible above his collar.
Then she saw his medication tray.
Four prescription bottles.
Two syringes.
A small paper cup containing tablets.
And a handwritten schedule bearing Dr. Vernon Ashford's signature.
Maeve reached for her phone.
Emmett caught her wrist with surprising strength.
“No ambulance.”
“Sir, you're seriously ill.”
“They'll call Warren.”
“Who's Warren?”
“My uncle.”
His fingers tightened.
“He decides who comes.”
Maeve studied his face.
“Has anyone told you exactly why you're dying?”
Emmett laughed bitterly, then coughed.
“Apparently my body has finally discovered what everyone else already knows.”
“That isn't an answer.”
His eyes sharpened.
“You're the maid.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you asking questions?”
“Because somebody should.”
For the first time in months, Emmett Castellano had nothing to say.
Maeve adjusted his position carefully with the help of extra pillows, avoiding unnecessary movement because of his spinal injury. She checked his pulse and noticed an irregular rhythm.
She also noticed his right hand trembling.
“Are you always this shaky?”
“Lately.”
“Any nausea? Blurred vision?”
He stared.
“Yes.”
“Have they changed your medications recently?”
“Doctor Ashford handles everything.”
Maeve picked up one prescription bottle and read the label.
Digoxin.
She knew the medication from her training. It could help certain cardiac conditions, but excessive exposure could cause dangerous symptoms, including nausea, confusion, visual disturbances, and abnormal heart rhythms.
She checked the other bottles.
One contained a sedative.
Another, medication for nerve pain.
The fourth bore a pharmacy label partially obscured by tape.
She didn't know whether any medication had been prescribed incorrectly. She did know that Emmett needed urgent medical assessment.
“Mr. Castellano, I think something may be wrong with your treatment.”
His expression hardened.
“Careful.”
“I am being careful.”
“You're accusing my doctor?”
“I'm telling you that your symptoms need investigating.”
Footsteps sounded behind her.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Corbin Pike filled the doorway.
He was a thick-necked man in his forties, dressed in a dark sweater and carrying a phone.
Maeve turned.
“Mr. Castellano needs emergency care.”
Pike's eyes dropped to the prescription bottle in her hand.
“Put that down.”
“Has his pulse been monitored tonight?”
“Get away from him.”
Pike crossed the room and seized her arm.
Maeve pulled free.
“Don't touch me.”
Emmett's voice cut through the room.
“Corbin.”
The attendant froze.
Emmett looked at him.
“Where were you?”
“Downstairs, sir.”
“While I was choking?”
Pike hesitated.
“I was told you were resting.”
“By whom?”
Before Pike could answer, another voice came from the hallway.
“By me.”
Warren Castellano entered wearing a tailored navy suit.
At sixty-three, he possessed the practiced warmth of a man who had spent decades convincing other people that betrayal was simply business conducted with good manners.
He smiled at Maeve.
“You must be our new housekeeper.”
“Maid,” she corrected.
“Of course.”
His smile remained.
“Then perhaps you can explain why you're handling my nephew's medication.”
“Because he appears seriously ill.”
“He is seriously ill. That's why we employ a physician.”
“He needs an independent evaluation.”
Warren's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“Miss Sullivan, you're dismissed.”
Maeve felt her stomach drop.
She thought of Danny's school lunches.
Her mother's care expenses.
The overdue electricity bill on her kitchen counter.
Then she looked at Emmett.
He was watching her with an expression she couldn't quite understand.
Not hope.
Not yet.
Recognition, perhaps.
The recognition of someone watching another person make a decision that would cost them something.
Maeve placed the bottle on the table.
“You can fire me,” she said. “But you can't stop me from calling emergency services.”
Warren stepped closer.
“Actually, this is private property.”
“A medical emergency doesn't disappear because the house is expensive.”
She dialed 911.
Warren lunged toward the phone.
“Don't you dare.”
A deep voice stopped him.
“Touch her, Warren.”
Everyone turned.
Emmett had pushed himself partially upright.
His face was gray with exhaustion.
But his eyes were suddenly alive.
“Touch her,” he repeated, “and you'll regret it.”
Maeve gave the dispatcher the address and described Emmett's symptoms.
Then she looked at Warren.
His face had lost all color.
And she realized something frightening.
He wasn't angry because she had disobeyed him.
He was terrified because help was coming.
Twenty minutes later, paramedics carried Emmett from the mansion.
As they approached the ambulance, he reached for Maeve's hand.
“Come with me.”
She hesitated.
“Your family—”
“Isn't invited.”
She climbed inside.
At the hospital, an emergency physician ordered blood tests, cardiac monitoring, and a medication review.
At 2:41 a.m., the physician returned with a grave expression.
“Mr. Castellano, your digoxin level is critically elevated.”
Maeve's breath caught.
The physician continued.
“We're treating this as a potentially life-threatening toxicity.”
Emmett turned slowly toward her.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
The physician looked between them.
“Who administers your medication?”
Emmett answered without hesitation.
“My family physician.”
Then he added something that made Maeve's blood run cold.
“Dr. Vernon Ashford.”
The emergency physician stopped writing.
“Did you say Vernon Ashford?”
“Yes.”
The doctor glanced toward the door.
“Because there's something you need to know about him.”
He lowered his voice.
May you like
“Dr. Ashford was suspended from this hospital's medical staff six months ago.”
And the reason involved a patient who had died after receiving the wrong medication.
