Chapter 2
The silence stretched so taut that the faint, rhythmic ticking of Hector’s wristwatch sounded like hammer strikes against lead.
Odette sat motionless on the edge of the velvet bench, her fingers digging through the upholstery down to the wood frame. The diamond engagement ring on her left hand caught the overhead light in cold, fractured shards. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her powdered forehead.
"Hector, you're making a scene," Odette managed, her voice trembling at the edges despite her desperate attempt at indignance. "You are embarrassing us in front of the entire family. Put the glass down."
Hector did not lower the tumbler. He stepped toward her, his polished leather shoes grinding softly against the edge of a scattered linen napkin.
"I asked you a question, Odette," Hector said softly. "And in my house, you answer me the first time."
From the head of the adjacent family table, Hector’s cousin Julian stood up, adjusting his silk tie with nervous haste. "Hector, come on now. It’s an anniversary banquet. Odette is stressed, the girl is overtired—let’s not let domestic squabbles turn into a melodrama before dessert."
Hector didn't turn his head. He didn't look at Julian. "Sit down, Julian, before I have Cassian break both of your kneecaps."
Julian’s mouth snapped shut. He sank back into his high-backed chair, his face flushing crimson, his eyes darting toward the double mahogany doors at the rear of the hall.
At Hector’s subtle nod toward the perimeter, three imposing men in tailored suits took positions. Cassian, Hector’s chief of security for twelve years, stepped forward and turned the heavy brass key in the hall’s double doors, sliding the deadbolts into place with an ominous, echoing clank. The armed banquet guards stationed along the wood-paneled walls placed their hands casually over their holsters.
A murmur of genuine panic ran through the socialites and captains of industry seated along the banquet tables.
Hector looked down at the tumbler in his palm. The bourbon was dark, rich, and amber. Near the surface, a faint, almost imperceptible iridescent film swirled under the direct light.
"Cassian," Hector commanded without raising his voice.
"Boss," the security chief answered, stepping to Hector’s side.
"Bring the silver letter opener from my side table. And fetch the hound from the terrace."
Odette gasped, scrambling to her feet, her evening gown twisting awkwardly around her knees. "No! Hector, stop this madness! You're behaving like a lunatic! You're going to terrify Maiselle!"
"You packed my daughter’s clothes in gravy and told her she was going to an orphanage," Hector said, his voice flat, devoid of rage, which made it infinitely more terrifying. "You told a three-year-old child her father wouldn't wake up tomorrow. You have forfeited your right to speak about her well-being."
Cassian returned within seconds, holding an ornate sterling silver knife. Hector dipped the blade an inch into the amber liquid, held it beneath the surface for five slow seconds, and withdrew it.
The silver had tarnished to an ugly, sickly black. A faint scent of bitter almonds, previously masked by the heavy peat of the liquor, drifted into the immediate air.
Several guests at the nearest table recoiled in horror. One woman gasped, pressing her napkin to her mouth.
"Potassium cyanide," Hector murmured, inspecting the blackened metal. "Fast-acting. Painful. It causes convulsions within minutes. A stroke-like death for an older man with high blood pressure, wouldn't they say? Neat. Convenient."
Hector tilted the glass slightly toward Odette.
"Drink it," Hector said.
Odette took a stumbling step backward until her calves hit the bench again. Her skin had lost every trace of color; she was grey as ash.
"Hector, please..." she begged, her hands coming up in surrender. "Please, don't do this..."
"Drink it, Odette," Hector repeated, stepping into her space, towering over her like a monolith of vengeance. "Prove to our honored guests that my three-year-old daughter is a liar. Prove that you love me. Drink it to the last drop."
"I can't!" she shrieked, breaking completely. "I can't drink it!"
"Why?" Hector leaned down, his eyes boring into hers. "Who gave it to you?"
Odette began to sob uncontrollably, her chest heaving, her eyes darting frantically toward the center of the dining table. "They said you were going to ruin everything... they said you were weak because of the girl! They said if I didn't do it, they'd kill my sister!"
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"Who?" Hector roared, the velvet composure finally shattering into thunder.
Before Odette could form a name, the heavy lights along the eastern wing of the hall flickered once, twice, and a muffled thud vibrated through the floorboards from the estate’s lower electrical vaults.
