The heels moved around him in slow circles. Tiffany studied him like merchandise.
“Months of preparation,” she said. “A drop here. A drop there. In your morning smoothie. In your evening tea. Little by little until your body started failing. And tonight, we give it one last nudge.”
Her heel tapped his shoulder as if brushing off lint.
She continued. “Tomorrow, the vows. Then the tragic honeymoon incident. A grieving widow inherits the empire. It certainly pays better than being a runaway fiancée who got bored of waiting.”
Silas’s vision flickered. His thoughts scattered like the shards of glass beneath him.
The sound of a door opening broke Tiffany’s moment of triumph. The scent of citrus cleaner and lavender entered first, followed by Janette Reyes, the estate’s cleaning lady. She hummed while pushing a cart and came in to tidy up before the storm knocked out the power. She froze when she saw Silas on the floor.
“Mr. Beaumont,” she exclaimed, rushing to his side. She knelt and pressed two fingers to his throat. “Your pulse is weak. You need help.”
Tiffany clicked her tongue. “Do not touch him. You will dirty his suit.”
Janette ignored the insult. She searched for his phone. Tiffany snatched it and flung it into the fireplace. It shattered in a burst of sparks.
“You did this to him,” Janette said, voice trembling with rage.
Tiffany laughed, not even pretending innocence. She reached into her bra and pulled out a small cobalt bottle. Quick as a strike, she tucked it into Janette’s apron pocket. Then she dragged her nails across her own arm, leaving red streaks. With an anguished cry, she staggered backward and screamed.
“He attacked me,” Tiffany wailed. “Janette poisoned him because he was going to fire her. Call security. Now.”
Two guards rushed in, followed by Detective Samuel Weldon, a longtime acquaintance of the Beaumonts. He trusted Tiffany’s poise. He trusted her words. They found the bottle in Janette’s pocket. They found the broken phone. They found a wealthy woman claiming terror.
Silas watched helplessly as Janette was handcuffed. She looked at him with defiant eyes.
“I know you can hear me,” she whispered. “I will not stop. I will find the truth.”
Her words became a lifeline. As she was dragged away, Silas managed one tiny blink. It was not farewell. It was a plea.