Chapter 2 - The Taste of Arsenic
The champagne flutes in the ballroom clinked together like distant bells, their sound dulled by the relentless, rising tide of the hum in Graham’s head.
Vanessa’s hand rested lightly against the sleeve of his tailored charcoal tuxedo. Her fingers, manicured to absolute perfection, were warm, smooth, and entirely devoid of hesitation. She smiled up at him with those striking hazel eyes that had captured the front pages of society magazines across Chicago and New York.
“They’re asking for the first dance, Graham,” Vanessa murmured, her voice melodic and soothing. “You look pale. Are you sure that sea air didn't catch up with you? You know how easily you get run down when you push yourself with the servers and the new software release.”
Graham looked down at her.
Just minutes earlier, hidden behind the velvet curtain in the shadow of the service alcove, a four-year-old child had moved her small, dirt-smudged fingers to tell him a horror story. “You’re not going deaf. Your fiancée puts something in your medicine. Pretty lady. Your cup. Medicine.”
The words echoed in his brain, clashing violently against the picture of domestic bliss Vanessa had spent years painting.
“I’m fine, Ness,” Graham said, forcing his facial muscles into what he hoped was a convincing smile. His voice sounded hollow to his own ears, muffled by the internal white noise. “Just... a lot on my mind. Mercer Ridge goes live with the enterprise rollout on Monday.”
“I know, darling,” she cooed, standing on her tiptoes to press a light, fragrant kiss against his cheek. “That’s why you have me. I take care of the details so you can focus on being a genius.”
She reached down to the small silver tray carried by a passing waiter, lifted a fresh glass of sparkling mineral water with a twist of fresh lime, and handed it to him.
“Drink this. You need to hydrate. You’ve barely touched your water all evening, and you know how your throat gets when you speak for too long.”
Graham took the crystal glass.
His fingers brushed hers. For years, he would have interpreted this gesture as an act of absolute devotion. Tonight, standing beneath the glittering crystal chandelier, every instinct he had honed building a multi-billion-dollar technology empire screamed a single, deafening warning: Watch your back.
He raised the glass to his lips, pretending to take a long, refreshing sip, while letting the cold liquid barely pass his lips before pulling away.
“Better?” she asked, watching him with an intensity that felt just a fraction too sharp.
“Much,” Graham lied.
“Good. Now, come along. The orchestra is playing our song.”
May you like
As Vanessa turned to lead him back toward the crowded ballroom floor, Graham’s eyes flicked toward the service door where little Lily and her mother, Nora, had vanished moments before. A cold sweat broke out across the back of his neck.
If Vanessa was poisoning him... what was she giving him? And more importantly, why?
