Chapter 2 - The Architect of the Coup
The kitchen was a cathedral of stainless steel and marble,
usually a place of comfort where I could lose myself in the routine of cleaning.
But as I poured Emily’s milk,
my hands shook so violently that the carton clattered against the glass.
"Did I do something bad, Mommy?"
Emily asked,
her big brown eyes searching mine for an answer I didn't want to give.
"No, baby,"
I whispered,
kneeling down to her level and smoothing her hair.
"You did something very,
very good."
"But we have to be very quiet now."
"Like a game?" she asked.
"Yes,"
I lied,
the weight of the deception pressing on my chest.
"Like the most important game we’ve ever played."
I left her with her coloring book and walked back toward the sitting room,
each step feeling like I was walking toward a gallows.
Before I could reach the door,
the heavy oak entrance to the estate swung open.
Julian Vane walked in.
He was the Executive Vice President of Atlantic Harbor Holdings,
a man who wore three-thousand-dollar suits like a second skin,
and possessed a smile that never quite reached his eyes.
He didn't see me in the shadows of the hallway.
He walked straight toward Victor’s sitting room,
his stride confident,
the stride of a man who already owned the floor he was walking on.
"Victor,"
I heard Julian say,
his voice oozing a practiced,
filial concern.
"I saw the lights were on."
"I thought we could go over the terminal merger before the board meeting at noon."
I froze,
pressed against the cold plaster of the wall.
Julian was early.
He was never early unless there was blood in the water.
I peered through the crack of the door.
Victor hadn't moved from his chair.
The pill was gone from his hand,
hidden somewhere,
and the water glass was still full.
"The merger,"
Victor repeated,
his voice trailing off,
mimicking the confused,
lethargic tone he had carried for weeks.
"Yes... the merger."
"I feel... a bit lightheaded today, Julian."
Julian stepped closer,
placing a hand on Victor’s shoulder,
a gesture that looked like support but felt like a claim.
"That’s why I’m here, Victor."
"To take the weight off your shoulders."
"The doctor said you need rest."
"I’ve already prepared the proxy forms."
"Just a few signatures,"
"and you can sleep."
"I’ll handle the board."
I saw Victor’s hand tremble as he reached for the pen Julian offered.
My heart stopped.
If he signed those papers,
Julian would have total control of the Russo assets,
and once he had control,
Victor would no longer be a 'sick' man.
He would be a dead one.
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And Emily and I?
We were the only witnesses to the medicine that looked 'different.'
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