Two hours passed before the police finally released the hotel manager and the other employee.Benjamin sat alone in the interrogation room, expecting the door to open and an officer to tell him he could leave too.He had been sitting on the same hard chair for what felt like forever. His back ached. His stomach was empty. His mind kept returning to Margaret lying helplessly on the floor.He had only wanted to help a stranger.Somehow, that decision had turned him into a suspect.The door finally opened.Benjamin straightened immediately.The police chief walked inside carrying a thin file. He closed the door behind him and placed the file on the table.Benjamin looked at him.“Am I free to go?”The chief pulled out the chair opposite him and sat.“Mr. Benjamin, you're staying.”Benjamin's face tightened.“What?”“You're staying.”“Why?”The chief opened the file.“You knew something was wrong before anyone else. You knew the wine might be poisoned. You seem to be the only one who know

Breakfast arrived shortly after Benjamin finished his shower.By the time he stepped out of the bedroom, Desmond had already arranged the food across the dining table.The smell of freshly prepared eggs, bacon, toast and fried potatoes filled the penthouse.“Finally,” Desmond said. “I was beginning to think you had drowned in the bathroom.”Benjamin pulled out a chair.“I needed the shower.”“You needed food more.”Benjamin sat down, Desmond laughed as they started eating..They ate in relative silence.Benjamin hadn't realized how hungry he was until the first few bites reached his stomach. The previous day's events had left him with barely any appetite, and the long night at the police station had made things worse.After they finished, Benjamin leaned back.“I want to visit the woman from yesterday.”Desmond looked at him.“You mean the woman you saved?”Benjamin nodded.“I want to know how she's doing.”Desmond immediately pushed his chair back.“Then I'm coming with you.”Benjami

Benjamin arrived at the hospital shortly after noon.The place smelled of antiseptic and cold air. Nurses moved between rooms while visitors sat along the corridor, some speaking quietly, others staring at their phones.He approached the reception desk and gave Margaret's name.The nurse checked the computer before looking up.“She's awake now.”Benjamin nodded.“Can I see her?”The nurse studied him briefly.“Are you family?”“No. I was the one who found her.”Recognition crossed the nurse's face.“Oh.”She checked the screen again.“She can have visitors. You can see her, but don't stay too long. She still needs rest.”“Thank you.”Benjamin followed the directions down the corridor.With every step, his stomach tightened.He had already seen Margaret unconscious on the floor. He still remembered the helpless look in her eyes and the faint sound of her voice asking for help.Now he was about to see her awake.He stopped outside the room and took a breath.Then he knocked.“Come in.”

Rebecca had called Benjamin the previous evening.“Vittorio Moretti, the police chief needs you at the station tomorrow,” she had told him.She hadn't given him much more information.Now Benjamin sat across from Moretti inside a quiet office at the station, staring at a laptop placed between them.He turned the laptop toward Benjamin.“I want you to look at this footages very carefully.”Benjamin leaned closer.The video showed the corridor of the Seven Star Hotel.Two men appeared from one end of the hallway.They walked side by side toward the restroom.Benjamin watched them disappear through the door.The footage ended there.Moretti paused it.“There were no cameras inside the restroom,” he explained. “So this is where we lose them.”Benjamin nodded.The chief changed the footage.A different camera angle appeared.This time, a female hotel employee walked through the corridor carrying a silver tray with two bottles of wine.Benjamin's eyes narrowed.She stopped outside Room 100.

Benjamin sat alone at a quiet table near the tall windows of an upscale restaurant in central Rome, his eyes moving between the entrance and the watch on his wrist.12:50 p.m.Ten minutes.He arrived at 12:32.He had spent the first few minutes pretending he had not been checking the time every sixty seconds. Eventually, he gave up pretending.He wanted to make a good impression on Rebecca.She had already helped him once when the police held him at the station. Now he had called her because he needed financial advice, and she had invited him to lunch.He could not afford to appear careless.The restaurant carried the kind of quiet elegance he was beginning to recognize. White tablecloths covered the tables. Crystal glasses caught the afternoon light. Waiters moved between the tables with practiced calm.A waiter had offered him wine when he arrived.Benjamin had declined.He did not want anything clouding his judgment before Rebecca arrived.At 12:55 p.m., the restaurant doors opened