Chapter 3 - The White Bottle|
"You're being absurd," Julianna stammered, her voice pitching an octave higher. "If this is some kind of sick joke, Vincent—"
"You first," Vincent repeated, his gray eyes locking onto hers like iron vice grips. "If my fiancée prepares my food with such care, surely she wouldn't mind sharing it."
Julianna’s hand shook violently. The crystal glass slipped from her fingers, shattering against the marble floor. Ice and water splashed over her designer shoes. She didn't look down at the mess. She stared at the piece of buttered bread on the porcelain dish as if it were a coiled viper ready to strike.
"Vincent... please," she breathed, her voice cracking entirely. "You don't understand..."
"Paul," Vincent called out without lifting his voice.
The heavy oak doors at the end of the room opened instantly. Paul, a broad-shouldered man in a dark suit who had guarded Vincent's father before him, stepped into the room. His hand rested casually inside his tailored jacket.
"Sir?" Paul asked.
"Take Miss Vance to the garden room," Vincent ordered, standing up slowly from his chair. "Do not allow her to touch her handbag, her coat, or her phone. If she attempts to leave, lock the doors."
"Vincent! No! You can't do this!" Julianna shrieked as Paul gently but firmly grasped her arm. "I did it for us! You don't know what they have on me!"
Vincent ignored her screams as Paul led her away down the corridor. The heavy oak doors clicked shut, restoring a terrifying quiet to the dining hall.
Vincent turned down to the little girl standing by his hip. Emma was clutching her button-eyed doll against her chin, her big brown eyes wide with uncertainty.
"Where did she get the bottle, Emma?" Vincent asked, kneeling down so he was at eye level with the child.
Emma pointed toward the private study at the end of the east wing—a room secured by a keypad lock that only three people in the state possessed the code to open.
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"She came out of the locked room," Emma whispered. "She put the bottle back in her coat, but she dropped a little white cap under the desk."
Vincent stood up, a cold, dark realization settling into his chest. The poison was never meant to be taken from the outside. It was already inside his house.
