Chapter 2 - The Parlor of Poison
The click of the heavy iron key echoed through the parlor like a gunshot.
My mother stood by the fireplace, her face a mask of calculated fury.
Marcus paced the room, his hand nervously gripping the lock.
He looked like a man who realized the game was no longer in his favor.
“You’re insane, Daniel,” he spat, though his voice lacked the venom it had held moments before.
“She’s dead. You’re just delaying the inevitable.”
I didn’t look at him.
I focused entirely on Eleanor.
I adjusted the position of her head, ensuring her airway remained clear.
My medic training kicked in, a cold, mechanical survival instinct.
I tapped the screen of my watch, checking the heart rate monitor I had rigged to her wrist earlier that week.
A faint, rhythmic pulse pulsed against my thumb—too slow, but undeniably there.
“She’s not dead,” I said, my voice cutting through the thick, stagnant air of the room.
“She was poisoned.”
My mother stiffened, her hand tightening around her wine glass.
“Poisoned? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not,” I replied, my eyes fixed on her.
“I had an independent toxicology screening done the moment I landed at the airport.”
“I knew something was wrong when the staff wouldn’t answer my emails.”
“I knew the house felt too quiet.”
“You didn’t just want the family empire, Mother.”
“You wanted to eliminate the next generation entirely.”
The room went deathly still.
Marcus looked at Mother, his bravado crumbling.
“You said it was a simple sedative!” he hissed.
“You said she would just sleep!”
Mother’s eyes flashed with a dangerous, reptilian intensity.
“Quiet, you fool!”
“We were supposed to handle this, Daniel.”
“I did what had to be done to preserve our legacy.”
“You think a ‘legacy’ is a bank account,” I said, lifting Eleanor into my arms.
“A legacy is blood.”
“And you just tried to spill yours.”
The wail of the sirens outside grew louder.
Red and blue light flickered across the walls, casting long, dancing shadows.
I stepped toward the door.
“Unlock it, Marcus,” I said.
“Or I will ensure the police find you holding the key.”
Marcus’s hand trembled.
He looked at Mother, then back at me.
He knew he was losing.
He stepped aside and twisted the lock.
May you like
The door swung open, and the cold night air rushed in, smelling of rain and salvation.
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