Chapter 2: The Glass She Refused to Touch
“Drink it, Victoria.””
My father's voice was quiet now, which somehow made it more frightening.
The glass of orange juice stood between them, catching the late-afternoon sunlight. Beyond the terrace, the roses glowed crimson beneath the garden lights. A waiter froze beside a tray of untouched hors d'oeuvres.
Victoria stared at the drink.
“I don't have to prove anything to you,” she said.
Richard folded his arms.
“Five minutes ago, you were demanding that I throw my son out of my house because he accused you of poisoning me. Now I'm asking you to drink the same juice you prepared, and suddenly you're offended?””
“Because this is humiliating!””
“You slapped a sixteen-year-old boy in front of a hundred people.””
“He accused me of attempted murder!””
“And now you can clear your name.””
She glanced at the guests.
That was when I understood how carefully she had built her life around appearances.
Victoria could survive an argument behind closed doors. She could survive a furious husband, a suspicious employee, even a private investigation.
But she could not tolerate the possibility that people might see her as anything other than the perfect wife.
She took a step toward Richard.
“Darling, think about what you're doing. These people are watching.””
“Let them.””
“You'll regret this.””
Richard's eyes hardened.
“Is that a threat?””
“No!”” She threw her hands up.
“It's a warning. You're letting a disturbed teenager manipulate you.””
My cheek still burned.
I held up my phone.
“Then why are you shaking?””
Victoria looked at me with such hatred that I instinctively stepped closer to my father.
Richard noticed.
He moved between us.
“Don't look at him like that.””
For a second, I thought she might strike me again.
Instead, she turned away, pressed a hand to her forehead, and began breathing in short, exaggerated gasps.
“Oh, God. I can't do this.””
A woman in a pale-blue dress stepped forward.
“Perhaps we should call a doctor.””
“No doctors!”” Victoria snapped.
The woman's eyebrows rose.
Victoria quickly softened her voice.
“I mean, there's no need. I'm having a panic attack. Richard, please, let's go inside.””
My father didn't move.
“Drink the juice.””
“Stop saying that!””
“Why?””
“Because I said no!””
The words burst out of her before she could control them.
A hush swept across the terrace.
Richard slowly turned toward the guests.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry. This evening is over. Please make your way to the front entrance. My staff will assist you.””
Nobody argued.
People began collecting handbags and jackets. A few guests pretended to check their phones, but I could see them recording us from behind their screens.
Victoria watched them leave.
Her face was a mask of rage.
As soon as the nearest guests had moved beyond the rose-covered archway, she seized Richard's wrist.
“Listen to me,” she whispered.
“You have no idea what you're doing.””
He looked down at her hand.
“Let go.””
“Richard, please. I can explain everything, but not here.””
“Then explain it now.””
She leaned closer.
“Your son doesn't know what he's found.””
My stomach dropped.
Richard went very still.
“What does that mean?””
Victoria released him.
“Nothing. I didn't mean it that way.””
“You just said he doesn't know what he's found.””
“I meant the video is misleading.””
“Then explain the powder.””
She swallowed.
“It's a compound my nutritionist recommended.””
“What nutritionist?””
“Dr. Hargrove.””
“My doctor?””
She hesitated.
Richard's expression darkened.
“Dr. Hargrove retired last year.””
Victoria blinked.
For the first time, I saw genuine confusion cross her face.
Then she recovered.
“His replacement, obviously. I don't remember the man's name.””
“You don't remember the name of the doctor whose supplements you've supposedly been giving me?””
“Richard, this is absurd.””
He pointed at the glass.
“Drink.””
She backed away.
“No.””
The single word hung in the air.
Richard's jaw tightened.
“Why not?””
Victoria looked at me.
I watched her calculate her options. She could refuse and make herself look guilty. She could drink and risk whatever was in the glass. Or she could somehow turn the entire situation against us.
Then she reached for the glass.
Her fingers curled around it.
My father watched her closely.
For one hopeful second, I thought she might actually drink.
Instead, she lifted the glass toward me.
“Here,” she said.
“If you're so certain it's poison, you drink it.””
Richard slapped the glass from her hand.
It shattered against the stone.
“Don't you dare!””
Victoria screamed.
“You just destroyed the evidence!””
“No,” I said.
“You did that yourself.””
She spun toward me.
“You have no idea what you've done.””
“Then tell me!””
“You think you're saving your father?”” Her voice cracked.
“You think you understand anything about this family?””
Richard stepped forward.
“Victoria, stop.””
But she had already lost control.
“You don't know what he was before I came here. You don't know what he was doing behind your mother's back. You don't know why—”
She stopped.
The silence that followed felt different from the others.
My father stared at her.
“Why what?””
Victoria pressed her lips together.
I felt the ground shift beneath me.
My mother had been dead for six years. I had spent most of that time believing that her illness had been sudden and cruel, the kind of tragedy that happened to ordinary families without warning.
But Victoria was looking at my father as if she had just revealed something she had spent years hiding.
Richard took a step toward her.
“Finish that sentence.””
She shook her head.
“You're twisting my words.””
“What did you mean?””
“Nothing!””
“Victoria!””
She suddenly lunged for my phone.
I pulled it back, but she caught my sleeve and yanked hard enough to nearly throw me off balance.
“Give it to me!””
Richard grabbed her wrist.
“Let him go!””
She twisted against his grip, her face contorted.
“You stupid, ungrateful boy! You have no idea what that recording could destroy!””
“Your marriage?”” I shouted.
“Everything!””
The words escaped her.
Richard released her wrist as if her skin had burned him.
“What is everything?””
Victoria looked from him to me.
Then, from somewhere inside her dress, a second phone began to ring.
She froze.
The sound was faint but unmistakable.
A plain black phone, unlike the elegant silver one she used in public.
She reached into her dress.
Richard caught her hand.
“What phone is that?””
“Mine.””
“You already have a phone.””
“People have two phones, Richard!””
“Then answer it.””
She didn't move.
The phone stopped ringing.
A message appeared on the screen.
I couldn't read all of it, but I saw the first line before Victoria turned the device away.
*THE BOY HAS THE VIDEO. PROCEED TO PHASE TWO.*
My blood turned cold.
Richard saw my expression.
“What did it say?””
“Nothing,” Victoria whispered.
I pointed at the phone.
“Dad, look at the message.””
She tried to pull away.
Richard held her wrist firmly.
“Give me the phone.””
“No.””
“Victoria.””
“You cannot take my private property!””
“Then tell me who sent that message.””
She said nothing.
He reached for the device.
Victoria suddenly drove her elbow into his chest.
Richard stumbled backward, knocking a chair onto the terrace.
I grabbed his arm.
“Dad!””
She seized the opportunity, snatched the black phone, and ran toward the garden doors.
“Security!”” Richard shouted.
Two guards appeared from the side entrance.
Victoria stopped so abruptly that her heels skidded on the marble.
For the first time, she looked trapped.
Richard straightened his jacket, breathing hard.
“Take her to the study,” he ordered.
“Nobody leaves this property until the police arrive.””
Victoria stared at him.
Then she began to laugh.
Not nervously.
Not hysterically.
She laughed as if my father had just told her the funniest joke in the world.
“You still think this is about money,” she said.
Richard's face went blank.
“What?””
She leaned toward him.
“You should have let the boy drink the juice.””
My father's expression changed.
I felt his fingers tighten around my shoulder.
Victoria looked directly at me.
“And you, James, should have stayed in your room.””
The guards took her by the arms.
She didn't resist.
As they led her through the garden doors, she turned her head just enough to meet my eyes.
Her lips moved silently.
Three words.
Ask about your mother.
Then the doors closed behind her.
I stood frozen beside my father.
He was staring at the shattered glass on the terrace.
“Dad,” I whispered.
“What did she mean?””
He didn't answer.
He was looking at the garden fountain, where a small brown envelope lay half-hidden beneath the ornamental stones.
I recognized it immediately.
The same kind of envelope I had seen Victoria open in the pantry.
Richard walked toward it.
When he picked it up, his hands began to shake.
Inside was a photograph of my mother, taken just weeks before she died.
On the back, someone had written a date.
A date from six years ago.
May you like
And beneath it, in Victoria's handwriting, were the words:
*THE FIRST ONE NEVER KNEW WHAT HIT HER.*
