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Sforza never expected that this woman could be so unyielding when it came to business.
She appeared gentle and graceful, seemingly without threat, sitting like a true noblewoman, yet her words left no room for compromise. She was nothing like the friendly, approachable image she projected.
— It was truly unbelievable that such a woman had once been reduced to serving as Da Vinci’s maid, only to be sought out and brought back by the Medici.
Sforza watched her with a cold gaze, her polite and respectful demeanor only added to his frustration. The list of matters he had hoped to discuss along the way seemed to shrink, leaving him more anxious and irritable.
If Lorenzo, that old cripple, were still here—at least he would have been able to gain some benefits! He wouldn’t have been this passive!
“Well then, I won’t disturb Your Majesty’s rest,” he said as he stood, his words mechanical and without emotion, as if repeating a ritual: “I wish you pleasant dreams.”
After returning to his bedroom, Sforza first confirmed that all those in the neighboring rooms were his subordinates, and that his guards were stationed in the corridor. He then signaled for his attendant Orlando to come and speak.
The room was spacious and comfortable, furnished with the finest materials, from the carpets to the bed linens. Though the windows were not large, the air inside remained fresh and cool due to the four ventilation shafts.
As soon as Orlando saw Sforza’s anxious expression, he immediately understood that the business discussion that evening had not gone well.
“My lord,” he saluted, “what would you have me do now?”
“We must get rid of this woman—she must be removed,” Sforza said, pacing back and forth like a nervous, alert squirrel in the autumn. “If she keeps acting like this, the nobles of Milan will eventually demand that I give up my flesh and blood!”
He had worked so hard to build his business to this scale, only for an Italian empire to barge in and steal nearly seventy percent of his orders, and at prices that were damned cheap. Now, with things at this point, she still dismissively refused to budge—how did this third-rate woman become an empress?!
“Then...” Orlando made a gesture across his throat. “Like this?”
“No.” Sforza shook his head decisively. “Can’t you see? When she holds a meeting, there are layers upon layers of people around her. After she rests for the night, there will be even more around her.”
“Poison?” Orlando pulled out a small glass vial from his inner pocket. “As long as this gets into her bloodstream, she’ll drop dead that very night.”
Sforza's eyes immediately lit up.
“Right, poison,” he swallowed hard. “We can’t use something that can be easily countered. If we’re doing it, we must do it decisively.”
“Listen, Orlando,” Sforza said, drawing closer and grabbing Orlando’s wrist, “From now on, you are a distant relative of the Sforza family and a famous duke in Milan.” He lowered his voice, “I’ll introduce you, you’ll shake her hand, and hidden in your fingers will be this poison needle—once it pierces her palm, you’ll truly be a duke!”
Orlando, quite proud of himself, smiled with a touch of smugness. “I’ll do it, my lord.”
They began to discuss how to wrap things up, what lies to tell, and whether it was possible to use their small personal guard to seize the Old Palace and Florence.
What they didn’t know was that every word they said, thick with their accents, was carried through the ventilation pipes to the listening area upstairs.
Hedy, lying on her pillow and feeling drowsy, yawned after reading the record.
“A hand kiss? This was his brilliant idea?”
“Tomorrow, we’ll take him alive.” Niccolo chuckled. “It should be quite awkward.”
When they had refurbished the Doge’s Palace, they had already taken careful measures in the rooms nearby. The carpets were quite thin to reduce sound absorption and enhance the reflection of sound off the four walls.
The ventilation pipes themselves were coated with a special layer, strategically placed.
The occupants didn’t even notice them, only feeling that the room was cool and airy.
When Da Vinci had discovered this short-distance communication method, he had even tried to chat with Hedyacross four floors—though it was Niccolo who had been chatting with her, teasing the teacher a few times before leaving.
The grand banquet began as scheduled the next day.
The elites from Florence and Milan had all been invited, and Madam Clarice's expression had improved significantly, her smile calm and gentle as she was surrounded by her children.
