Keep reading to the next chapter to see how the story unfolds.

-7-

The room began to tilt.

At first, it was subtle—a slight blurring of the candlelight, a strange, heavy warmth spreading outward from my chest into my fingertips. Then came the metallic taste in my mouth, thick and bitter like copper coins.

I tried to stand up, but my knees betrayed me instantly. My legs felt like lead columns filled with wet cement, refusing to lift off the floorboards. I grabbed the edge of the mahogany table, my knuckles turning white as I fought to keep my torso upright.

Across the table, Robert didn't even flinch. He simply watched me with the calm, detached curiosity of a scientist observing a lab rat reacting to a new compound.

“It’s a fast-acting neuro-muscular blocker, my dear,” Robert explained smoothly, setting his wineglass down and folding his hands neatly over the table. “Derived from a plant extract your father actually imported for botanical research back in the nineties. Completely untraceable after forty-eight hours, mimics a massive stroke or sudden cardiac arrest, and leaves no suspicious residues in standard toxicology screens.”

Nathan stared at me in absolute horror, his chair scraping backward as he tried to put physical distance between himself and his uncle. “Uncle Robert... what did you do? You said we were just going to force her to sign the share transfer! You said nobody was going to get hurt!”

“Shut up, you whining coward,” Robert snapped, his voice cracking with sudden, venomous authority. “If we hadn't acted tonight, the DA would have raided our offices by noon tomorrow. This was the only way to secure the voting shares before midnight.”

Celeste was trembling uncontrollably, her eyes fixed on my face as I slumped forward, my chin resting heavily against the edge of the tablecloth. “Is she... is she dead?”

“Not yet,” Thomas replied calmly, walking around the table with the silver tray still balanced perfectly in his hand. He stopped beside my chair, looking down at me with an expression that carried a sickening trace of paternal pity. “The dosage takes about five minutes to completely shut down the respiratory system. To anyone looking on, Miss Emma will simply have suffered a fatal heart attack brought on by the stress of her impending divorce.”

My lungs felt like they were shrinking. Every breath required a massive, agonizing effort of will. My vision was tunneling rapidly, the edges of the room fading into a thick, suffocating blackness.

Marcus.

The name echoed frantically inside my mind. Marcus was waiting with the federal marshals three blocks away. He knew I was in here. He knew the risks.

If I don't give the signal by 8:00 PM...

I glanced up at the antique grandfather clock near the pantry doors.

7:55 PM.

Five minutes. I had five minutes before my heart stopped beating entirely.

Robert stood up from his chair, smoothing down the front of his wool vest with agonizing casualness. He walked around the table until he was standing right beside me, looking down into my eyes as the light slowly drained from them.

“Such a pity, Emma,” Robert murmured, bending down slightly so his voice was meant only for my ears. “You had your mother’s stubbornness. But you lacked her caution. Give your father my regards when you see him.”

He reached out, his cold fingers prying my right hand open from where my fingers were clutched around the silver butter knife. He stripped the diamond engagement ring—the one I had thrown at Nathan two nights ago, which I had quietly pocketed before dinner—off my finger, slipping it into his vest pocket as a trophy.

My vision narrowed to a tiny, pinhole circle of light focused on the crystal chandelier above us.

The heavy front doors of the townhouse downstairs...

Did I hear a sound?

A dull, muffled thud echoed up through the floorboards. Then another. The splintering crack of reinforced oak being forced open by a battering ram.

Robert’s head whipped around toward the hallway. The smug, triumphant smile vanished from his face in a single heartbeat, replaced by sudden, frantic panic.