Chapter 5 - Stop the Toast
Lena could not hear her own scream.
The orchestra was too loud.
The applause swallowed every sound.
Daniel lay behind the curtain, blood spreading beneath him. Lena pressed both hands against the wound, but his eyes had already become empty.
A shadow moved along the upper balcony.
The shooter.
Lena looked toward Marcus.
He stood near the head table, scanning the crowd.
He had not seen Daniel fall.
August lifted his glass higher.
“To family,” he began.
The waiter beside him had poured champagne from the silver-marked decanter.
Lena remembered Daniel’s final words.
The real target is the person who survives.
She did not understand them.
She only knew August could not drink.
Lena ran.
She pushed through two rows of tables, struck a chair, and nearly fell. Guests shouted as she crossed in front of the stage.
August brought the glass toward his mouth.
Lena seized his wrist.
“Sir, don’t drink that!”
The room froze.
The confrontation unfolded exactly as though it had been rehearsed.
Eleanor accused her.
Lena raised her phone.
The video Daniel had scheduled for delivery appeared on the screen at the precise moment she needed it.
It showed Eleanor entering the wine room.
It showed the vial.
It showed the decanter.
Marcus searched Eleanor’s purse.
The black bottle rolled across the floor.
August ordered Eleanor arrested.
Then Eleanor smiled and said, “You were never the real target.”
The guests erupted into frightened whispers.
Marcus signaled to his team.
Two guards took Eleanor by the arms.
She did not resist.
Instead, she looked directly at Lena.
“Ask Marcus who died behind the curtain.”
Lena’s blood turned cold.
Marcus’s head snapped toward the east wall.
He moved quickly through the tables and disappeared backstage.
Seconds later, security personnel began clearing the area.
August remained standing at the head table.
His glass was still in his hand.
Vivian stepped toward him.
“Put it down.”
He did not.
“Father.”
August looked at the champagne as though it held an answer.
Then he placed the glass on the table.
Marcus returned.
He leaned close to August and whispered something.
August’s face changed.
He looked toward Lena.
“Daniel Reyes?”
She nodded.
“Dead?”
“Yes.”
August closed his eyes briefly.
Then he ordered the ballroom locked.
No one would leave.
Several guests protested. A senator demanded that his security detail be allowed to escort him out. A famous actress began crying. Phones appeared everywhere.
August stepped onto the stage and took the microphone.
“There has been a security incident,” he said. “You will remain calm and follow instructions.”
“Were you poisoned?” someone shouted.
“Is your wife under arrest?”
“Was someone shot?”
August’s expression did not change.
“My security team is handling the matter.”
The ballroom doors closed.
Police sirens sounded outside.
Marcus approached Lena.
“You saw the shooter?”
“Only a shadow on the balcony.”
“Height?”
“I don’t know.”
“Clothing?”
“Dark.”
“Direction?”
“Toward the north exit.”
Marcus spoke into his radio.
Lena grabbed his sleeve.
“You knew Daniel was alive.”
“No.”
“You told me he was dead.”
“A body carrying his identification was found.”
“Who was it?”
“We don’t know.”
“Daniel said there were two plans. One to kill August and another to make sure I saved him.”
Marcus’s gaze hardened.
“Did he say who was behind them?”
“No.”
Eleanor laughed from across the room.
The guards were holding her near the stage.
“You are all asking the wrong questions.”
August turned toward her.
“What was in the vial?”
Eleanor looked at him with something almost like pity.
“You should ask the person who gave it to me.”
“Who?”
“Your son.”
Charles Whitmore stood beside his wife at the family table.
His face drained of color.
“That’s a lie.”
Eleanor tilted her head.
“Is it?”
Charles pushed away from the table.
“I’ve never seen that vial.”
“The package arrived at my dressing room this afternoon,” Eleanor said. “Inside was a note in your handwriting.”
Marcus signaled to a guard.
“Search Mr. Whitmore.”
Charles backed away.
His wife, Celeste, stared at him.
“What is she talking about?”
“Nothing.”
Marcus stepped closer.
Charles reached inside his jacket.
Several guards drew weapons.
“Hands where I can see them,” Marcus ordered.
Charles slowly removed a folded piece of paper.
He placed it on the table.
It was a handwritten note.
ELEANOR,
THREE DROPS. SILVER DECANTER.
THE DOCTOR SAYS IT WILL ONLY MAKE HIM SLEEP.
AFTER THE TOAST, WE MOVE HIM UPSTAIRS.
BURN THIS.
C.
Celeste covered her mouth.
Charles looked at August.
“I didn’t write that.”
August said nothing.
Vivian took the note.
“The handwriting looks like yours.”
“It was copied.”
Eleanor smiled.
“Of course it was.”
Charles turned toward her.
“You set me up.”
“Someone set us both up.”
For the first time, Eleanor sounded sincere.
Lena watched the family accuse one another beneath the chandeliers.
Then she noticed the glass August had placed on the table.
The champagne was changing color.
A thin black line spread through the liquid like smoke.
Lena pointed.
Everyone turned.
The crystal glass cracked.
Not from impact.
From heat.
A second later, it shattered.
The champagne burned through the tablecloth and began eating into the polished wood beneath it.
The guests screamed.
Marcus pulled August backward.
The poison was real.
Eleanor stared at the smoking table.
Her confidence disappeared.
“That isn’t what I was given,” she whispered.
August looked at her.
“What did you think it was?”
Eleanor swallowed.
“A sedative.”
“Why did you want me sedated?”
She said nothing.
August stepped closer.
“Why?”
Eleanor looked toward the giant screens above the stage.
The birthday photographs vanished.
A new video appeared.
It showed August lying unconscious in his private bedroom.
Beside him stood Eleanor, Charles, and an unknown doctor.
On the bedside table were legal documents.
A voice from the speakers said, “At midnight, control of Whitmore Meridian will pass to the survivor named in August Whitmore’s sealed succession order.”
The video froze.
May you like
Then a final message appeared.
ONE OF YOU ALREADY KNOWS THE NAME.
