Chapter 6 - The Child’s Drawing
Victoria stared at the shattered pieces of the Ming dynasty vase, her face twisting into a mask of pure, unfiltered rage.
"You little rat," Victoria hissed, taking a threatening step toward the toddler. "Do you have any idea how much that costs?"
Before Victoria could reach her, Renee rushed down the corridor, placing herself squarely between the wealthy woman and her child.
"I apologize, ma'am," Renee said quickly, keeping her voice even, though her heart was hammering from her narrow escape in the bedroom. "She got away from me. I will clean it up immediately, and you can deduct the cost from my wages."
Victoria sneered, looking Renee up and down. "Deduct it from your wages? You couldn't afford a single shard of that vase if you worked here for a hundred years. This is exactly why I told Marcus animals don't belong in a civilized house. Get this mess cleaned up, and keep that brat out of my sight, or I'll have child services take her away."
Victoria spun on her heel and stormed back into her suite, slamming the door.
Renee knelt on the floor, ignoring the sharp shards of porcelain biting into her knees, and pulled Zoe into a fierce hug. Zoe hadn't just broken a vase; she had deliberately created a distraction to save her mother. The three-year-old was too smart, too observant.
"Thank you, baby," Renee whispered, kissing Zoe’s cheek. "But you have to stay away from her. Promise Mommy."
Zoe nodded solemnly. She reached into the pocket of her small denim overalls and pulled out a folded piece of construction paper. "I drew a picture for Mr. Marcus."
Renee took the paper. She unfolded it, expecting to see a sun or a dog.
Instead, it was a drawing of the swimming pool. There was a stick figure in a white dress pushing a stick figure in a black dress into the blue crayon water.
But there was a third figure in the drawing.
Standing behind the bushes near the pool, drawn in heavy, dark black crayon, was a tall man wearing a hat.
Renee stared at the drawing, a chill creeping up her spine. "Zoe... who is this man?"
"The shadow man," Zoe said simply. "He watched the lady push you. Then he gave the lady a little bottle."
Renee’s breath hitched. Victoria hadn't been alone when she pushed Renee into the pool. The 'game' wasn't just to humiliate her; it was a cover to secretly meet with her accomplice. Julian Vance. And he had handed Victoria the untraceable poison right there in the backyard, while Renee was blindfolded and fighting for her life in the water.
Renee stood up, grabbing the drawing, and immediately sought out Eleanor.
She found the matriarch in the sunroom, reviewing the final floral arrangements for the gala. When Eleanor saw the drawing, her sharp eyes darkened.
"She has the poison," Eleanor murmured, tracing the black crayon figure. "She’s had it since Friday. We assumed Julian was bringing it to the gala, but he already delivered it."
"She said on the phone she plans to put it in Mr. Whitfield's scotch during the governor's toast," Renee said, her voice shaking. "She's going to have the maid—me—serve it to him."
Eleanor stood up, her jaw set with terrifying resolve. "Then we don't just have a confession on tape, Renee. We have attempted murder in progress. It is time to spring the trap."
The night of the gala arrived with breathtaking elegance.
The Whitfield estate was transformed into a glowing palace. Hundreds of lanterns hung from the oak trees, a string quartet played Vivaldi on the terrace, and the driveway was packed with luxury vehicles. The governor of Georgia was holding court by the fireplace, and the city’s elite mingled under the crystal chandeliers.
Victoria was the star of the evening. She wore a stunning, diamond-encrusted silver gown, clinging to Marcus’s arm like a devoted, radiant bride-to-be. She carried the crimson velvet clutch purse, completely unaware that every word she spoke was being recorded by the device Renee had sewn into the lining.
Renee was in her black and white uniform, circulating the room with a silver tray of champagne. She kept her head down, her professional smile locked in place, but her eyes never left Victoria.
At 10:00 PM, the governor tapped his glass with a spoon, signaling the start of the speeches. The crowd hushed, gathering in the grand ballroom.
"Before the governor speaks," Victoria announced, her voice echoing sweetly through the microphone, "I believe my darling Marcus needs his signature evening scotch. Renee, dear? Could you bring it to him?"
Renee’s stomach plummeted. This was it.
Victoria caught Renee’s eye across the room. The fiancée gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod toward the mahogany bar in the corner.
Renee walked to the bar. Sitting on a silver coaster, isolated from the other drinks, was a crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid. Victoria had already tampered with it.
Renee picked up the glass. It felt incredibly heavy. She looked at Marcus, who was smiling at his guests, completely oblivious to the death sentence waiting in the glass.
"Renee," Eleanor’s voice whispered sharply from the shadows behind the bar.
Renee turned. Eleanor was standing there, holding an identical crystal tumbler filled with plain apple juice.
Without a word, Eleanor took the poisoned scotch from Renee’s tray and replaced it with the apple juice. Eleanor then carefully poured the poisoned scotch into an empty glass vial and slipped it into her pocket.
"Serve him," Eleanor whispered fiercely. "And wait for the fireworks."
Renee walked across the ballroom floor, every eye in the room on her. She reached the stage and handed the tumbler to Marcus.
"Thank you, Renee," Marcus smiled, taking a sip of the apple juice. He didn't even notice the difference.
Victoria watched him swallow. A look of dark, absolute triumph flashed across her face. She turned to the crowd, preparing to play the grieving widow.
"To Marcus," the governor began, raising his glass.
"Before we toast," a commanding voice interrupted from the back of the room.
The crowd parted as Eleanor Whitfield stepped into the light. She wasn't wearing a gala gown. She was wearing a sharp, tailored black business suit. And in her hand, she held the crimson velvet clutch purse.
"I think my future daughter-in-law has something she'd like to share with the room," Eleanor announced, her voice echoing off the marble walls.
Eleanor unzipped the purse, reached inside, and pressed a button.
May you like
Suddenly, Victoria’s voice blasted through the ballroom's massive speaker system, crystal clear for three hundred guests to hear.
“I know the price, Julian. Two hundred thousand to your syndicate the night of the gala, and you get the Whitfield commercial zoning rights once Marcus is gone. Just make sure you bring the final transfer papers to the party. I want this done.”
