Chapter 6
The silence was deafening. The ivory candles flickering in their brass candelabras seemed to cast long, ominous shadows across the marble floors.
Nora faced Alaric, refusing to back down. She was painfully aware of the dozen armed capos standing in the room, and she knew the immense power of the woman she was accusing. A slight tremor hitched in her breath, but she maintained unwavering eye contact with the man who held all their lives in his hands.
"Sleeping pills," Nora stated clearly, her voice echoing off the carved walnut furniture. "Vivian emptied the bottle into the shaker in the master study. I saw her."
A collective gasp rippled through the guests. To attempt to assassinate the head of the family in his own home, in the middle of a Christmas reception, was an act of treason that carried an immediate death sentence.
"She is lying!" Vivian shrieked, her emerald satin gown rustling violently as she stepped back. "Alaric, you cannot possibly believe a filthy maid over your own wife! She is jealous! She wants to ruin us!"
Alaric did not react to the screaming. He looked down at the crystal champagne flute in his hand. The bubbles floated innocently to the surface. He slowly turned his head, fixing Vivian with a stare so cold it could freeze blood.
Without a word, Alaric reached over and placed the untouched flute gently onto the polished walnut console beside the Christmas tree.
He then stepped deliberately forward. He positioned his tall, imposing frame squarely between Vivian and Nora. He created an impenetrable physical wall, shielding the courageous maid from his treacherous wife.
Lucy, sensing the terrifying shift in the adults, reached out with her small hand. She gently took hold of Nora’s fingers, still tightly hugging her plush snowman with her other arm. Nora immediately wrapped her hand around the toddler's, offering silent, mutual comfort.
"Alaric, please," Vivian begged, her voice dropping into a desperate, trembling whisper as she realized her control was entirely broken. "It is just sugar. I swear to you."
"Then drink it," Alaric commanded, his voice a lethal, quiet weapon.
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Vivian froze. She stared at the champagne flute resting on the console. She knew a single sip of the concentrated dose would stop her heart within minutes.
Under Alaric’s unwavering, terrifying stare, Vivian slowly, agonizingly, closed the gold evening clutch, hiding the empty pill bottle from view.
