Chapter 7 - Dinner for the Dead
At seven, every light in the dining room was burning.
The chandelier cast warm gold across polished hardwood floors. Tall candles stood along the table. Rain streamed down the dark windows, reflecting the room back upon itself.
Celeste had arranged the scene like a family celebration.
Maren entered in her wheelchair with Dr. Kline behind her.
Reed stood near the fireplace, holding a glass of whiskey.
He had changed nothing about his appearance except his expression.
The concern was gone.
So was the charm.
Two security guards remained beside the staircase. A third stood near the doorway leading to the kitchen.
Lila was nowhere in sight.
Neither was her brother.
Maren stopped at the end of the table.
Celeste occupied the chair opposite her, still wearing the cream silk robe and holding the same wine glass.
“You took your time,” she said.
“I was learning about your marriage.”
Reed looked toward Celeste.
“What marriage?”
Celeste’s fingers tightened around the stem of the glass.
Kline moved behind Maren.
Maren could feel the syringe hidden in his pocket.
“Edmund Vale,” she said.
Reed stared at his mother.
Celeste smiled.
“Old documents are dangerous when read without context.”
“So give us context.”
“This is not the time.”
“It seems perfect. We are all together. The candles are lit. Someone may die.”
Reed put down his whiskey.
“What is she talking about?”
Celeste did not answer.
Maren turned to him.
“Your mother married my father before either of us was born.”
Reed laughed once, waiting for Celeste to dismiss it.
She did not.
His face changed.
“You said you met Edmund through Conrad.”
“I did.”
“You said…”
“I said what protected you.”
“From what?”
Celeste looked at Maren.
“From her family.”
Reed’s eyes moved between them.
“You knew she was Edmund’s daughter before we met.”
“Of course.”
“You arranged the introduction.”
“Yes.”
“You told me it was chance.”
“There is no chance in families like ours.”
Reed stepped away from the fireplace.
“You married me to her.”
“I offered you an opportunity.”
“You made me…”
“What? Wealthy? Powerful? Relevant?”
Reed’s face reddened.
Maren watched the fracture widen between them.
Celeste had used her son just as she had used everyone else.
That did not make him innocent.
But it made him dangerous in a new way.
A servant entered carrying the first course.
Not Lila.
An older man Maren did not recognize placed a bowl of soup before her.
Maren looked at the bowl.
Then at Celeste.
“I’m not hungry.”
Celeste took a sip of wine.
“You should eat.”
“I would rather listen.”
“To what?”
“The explanation for the second daughter.”
The unknown servant’s hand paused near the tray.
Only for a moment.
Maren noticed.
Celeste noticed too.
“Leave us,” she ordered.
The man bowed and returned to the kitchen.
Reed moved toward the table.
“What second daughter?”
Maren removed the photograph from her dress and placed it on the polished wood.
Two newborn girls.
Two bracelets.
Reed stared at it.
Celeste did not.
“You knew about this?” he asked his mother.
“It is meaningless.”
“The bracelets have different names.”
“Because one is forged.”
“Which one?”
Celeste set down her glass.
“That is the question everyone has been asking for thirty-two years.”
Maren leaned forward.
“Where is Elara?”
“If I knew, she would not be a problem.”
Reed looked at Maren.
“You have a sister?”
“Possibly.”
“That is why the board vote changed,” Celeste said. “A second heir would divide control.”
Maren studied her.
“You are not afraid of divided control. You are afraid one of us can prove what you did.”
“What did I do?”
“Burned the hospital.”
Kline whispered, “Maren…”
Celeste’s smile vanished.
“You have always inherited Edmund’s greatest weakness.”
“Trust?”
“Certainty.”
The kitchen door opened again.
The servant returned with a bottle of wine.
He poured for Reed.
Then Celeste.
When he approached Maren, she placed her hand over the glass.
“No.”
Reed said, “Drink.”
Maren looked at him.
“Why?”
“A toast.”
“To what?”
He lifted his glass.
“To the end of confusion.”
Celeste smiled.
Maren removed her hand from the wine glass.
The servant poured.
She did not touch it.
Reed waited.
Maren raised the glass but kept it away from her lips.
“To family,” she said. “The people who know exactly where to place the poison.”
Kline dropped his gaze.
Reed drank.
Celeste drank.
Maren lowered her full glass.
A flicker of irritation crossed Celeste’s face.
The reaction was not supposed to come from the wine.
The unknown woman had warned her.
The allergen was on the false injector.
So where was the trigger?
Maren looked at the soup.
She had not touched it.
The wine.
Untouched.
The room.
Candles.
Flowers.
Polished silver.
Then she smelled it.
Faint.
Sweet.
Orange blossom.
Her most severe allergy was not to food.
It was to a rare essential oil derived from bitter orange peel. Reed knew because she once suffered anaphylaxis at a spa.
The oil was burning inside the candles.
The wax had begun to melt.
The fragrance filled the room slowly.
Maren’s skin prickled.
She needed the real injector beneath the table.
But she could not reach for it too soon.
The button had to be pressed only after Reed made the delayed emergency call.
Celeste leaned back.
“How are you feeling?”
Maren’s lips began to numb.
“Bored.”
“Your face is red,” Reed said.
“Perhaps your company embarrasses me.”
He looked toward the candles.
Then at his watch.
Maren saw the calculation in his eyes.
The seven minutes had begun.
She coughed.
Celeste lifted her wine glass.
Reed came around the table and crouched beside the wheelchair.
“Do you need your injector?”
Maren forced herself to nod.
He reached into her purse and removed the replacement.
The contaminated one.
He held it before her.
“Ask nicely.”
Kline turned away.
Maren stared at Reed.
“Help me.”
He placed the injector in her hand.
Celeste watched closely.
Maren pretended to lose her grip.
It fell beneath the table.
Reed cursed and bent to retrieve it.
Maren kicked it farther away.
The movement was small.
But Reed saw her foot move.
He froze.
Their eyes met.
“You can move your leg.”
Maren’s throat tightened further.
Reed grabbed her ankle.
“You’ve been lying.”
Celeste stood.
“What?”
Maren tried to pull away.
Reed yanked her forward.
The wheelchair tipped.
She hit the hardwood floor.
The chair overturned beside her.
Her champagne dress spread across the wood.
Exactly as the unknown woman predicted.
Reed knelt beside her.
“Maren?”
She clawed at her throat.
“Reed… I can’t breathe…”
He stared down at her.
Then all remaining hesitation left his face.
“You’re being dramatic.”
Celeste walked closer, smiling.
“Just let it happen.”
Maren reached beneath the table.
Her fingers searched for the taped injector and the silent alarm button.
Reed turned away and pulled out his phone.
“Wait seven minutes,” he said into the call. “Then call 911.”
Maren found the button.
She pressed it.
Nothing happened.
She pressed again.
May you like
Reed’s phone vibrated.
Then the front door crashed open.
