Chapter 11 - The Dinner Table
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Victor stopped, looking down at Audrey’s manicured hand resting tightly on his forearm. He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers, allowing a fraction of his true nature to bleed through his carefully constructed facade.
“No?” Victor echoed, his voice dropping into a dangerously quiet register.
Audrey quickly withdrew her hand, realizing her mistake. She softened her features, forcing a sympathetic, pleading smile.
“I just mean you shouldn't wake her, Victor,” Audrey backpedaled smoothly. “She finally fell asleep an hour ago. She’s been in so much pain. Please, let her rest. You can see her first thing in the morning.”
Victor stared at her for a long, agonizing moment. He knew Marta had successfully intercepted the evening dose, but Audrey thought Sylvia’s body was currently succumbing to the barbiturate cocktail.
“You're right,” Victor said softly, turning away from the stairs. “Let her sleep. Let’s have dinner.”
The dining room was vast, lit only by a crystal chandelier that cast long, fractured shadows across the long mahogany table. Audrey had quickly instructed the kitchen staff to prepare a meal, and they ate in a tense, suffocating silence.
Victor methodically cut a piece of steak, watching Audrey push her salad around her plate. She was distracted. She kept checking the digital clock on the wall, tracking the minutes, waiting for Sylvia’s heart to finally give out.
“You seem nervous, Audrey,” Victor commented casually, taking a sip of his bourbon.
Audrey jumped slightly, her fork clinking against the porcelain plate. “I’m not nervous, darling. Just tired. Caregiving is… exhausting work.”
“I can imagine,” Victor said, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “It takes a very specific kind of person to administer that level of care. To hold someone's life in your hands, deciding exactly what goes into their body. It must feel like playing God.”
Audrey’s breath hitched in her throat. She looked at Victor, searching his face for any hidden meaning, but his expression remained perfectly neutral.
“I just do what the doctors instruct,” Audrey whispered, picking up her wineglass with a trembling hand.
May you like
“Of course you do,” Victor smiled thinly. “I’m just glad you’re here. I’d hate to think what would happen if a stranger was alone with her. You never know who you can trust these days.”
Audrey quickly drained the rest of her wine. The psychological pressure Victor was applying was working. She was cracking.
