Chapter 5 - A Poisoned Dinner Party with the Smiling Mistress
The following Sunday evening, forty-eight hours before the scheduled high-society baby shower, Harrison insisted on hosting a private dinner at the Blake Estate.
The pretext? A small, intimate gathering of “close friends” to celebrate Simone’s Humanitarian award and toast to the upcoming arrival of their baby daughter.
Simone sat at the head of the long mahogany dining table, glowing in a stunning lavender silk dress. Across from her sat Natasha, looking radiant in an emerald silk blouse, casually sipping vintage Pinot Noir. Harrison sat at the opposite end of the table, carving a prime rib roast with absolute aristocratic charm.
“A toast,” Harrison announced, raising his crystal wine glass, his dark eyes sparkling with supreme confidence. “To my brilliant, beautiful wife Simone. The city’s Humanitarian of the Year, the foundation of our family, and the future mother of my daughter. May our empire continue to grow for generations to come.”
“To Simone,” Natasha chimed in smoothly, raising her glass and locking eyes with Simone with a sweet, supportive smile. “You truly deserve everything that’s coming to you, Simone. You’re an inspiration to all of us.”
Simone raised her glass of sparkling water, holding Natasha’s gaze without a single flicker of hesitation.
“Thank you, Natasha,” Simone said, her voice dripping with velvet poise. “You’ve always been so attentive to what’s coming to me. After all, what is a marriage without the constant support of a loyal best friend?”
Natasha’s smile faltered for a microsecond before returning to its flawless mask. “We’re family, Simone. Always have been.”
“Speaking of family,” Simone continued casually, cutting a delicate piece of roasted asparagus, “Harrison was telling me earlier about the new corporate expansion. He mentioned something about Sapphire Holdings LLC. Isn’t that a fascinating name for an investment firm?”
Harrison’s hand froze mid-air, the carving knife resting heavily on the cutting board.
Natasha choked slightly on her sip of wine, quickly covering her mouth with a linen napkin.
“Sapphire Holdings?” Harrison forced a relaxed chuckle, though his jaw muscles clenched tight. “Where did you hear that name, sweetheart? That’s just a minor subsidiary our logistics branch is evaluating for tax restructuring.”
“Oh, really?” Simone asked, tilting her head with feigned innocence. “I only ask because I was reviewing our charitable foundation’s annual distribution records yesterday with Francine. It seems our foundation inadvertently wired $2.4 million into Sapphire Holdings’ accounts over the past eighteen months. Francine thought it was a clerical error, but I told her my brilliant husband never makes errors with millions of dollars.”
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the dining room.
Harrison’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous, calculating edge flashing behind his aristocratic demeanor. “Francine is an accountant, Simone. She doesn't understand high-level portfolio diversification. You shouldn't worry your pretty head about complex corporate accounting right now. You’re six months pregnant. Stress isn't good for the baby.”
“You’re right, Harrison,” Simone smiled serenely, taking a delicate sip of her water. “Stress is terrible for the baby. That’s why I’m letting my legal team handle all the details from now on.”
Natasha set her wine glass down with trembling fingers. “Legal team? Simone, what are you talking about?”
“Just standard estate planning, Natasha,” Simone replied sweetly, rising gracefully from her chair. “Arthur Blake always taught me that in high finance, you must know exactly where every dollar is sleeping. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling a bit tired. I’ll leave you two to discuss your... logistics.”
Simone turned and walked unhurriedly up the grand staircase.
Behind her, at the foot of the table, Harrison slammed his linen napkin onto his plate, his face darkening with suppressed rage.
“What did she find out?” Natasha hissed in a frantic whisper, grabbing Harrison’s sleeve. “Harrison, does she know about the Miami penthouse? Does she know about the Caymans?”
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“Shut up,” Harrison snarled under his breath, grabbing Natasha’s wrist roughly. “She doesn't know a damn thing. She’s guessing. Tomorrow, I’m liquidating the remaining trust accounts and moving the final $5 million into our Swiss vault. Once the baby shower is over on Tuesday, I’m filing the emergency mental competency petition with Judge Vance. Simone won't have a single dollar or a child to her name by Friday.”
Upstairs on the balcony landing, hidden in the shadows, Simone recorded every single word on her phone, a cold, lethal smile spreading across her lips.
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