Chapter 4 - A Dinner Table Full of Poisoned Smiles
By 5:00 PM, I arrived back at our Greenwich estate.
I parked the Range Rover back in its hidden spot and walked into the grand foyer through the side entrance, making sure to adjust my tie and composure. To anyone watching, I was simply David Vance, the exhausted billionaire CEO returning unexpectedly early from a canceled business trip.
The house was deceptively peaceful. The scent of roasted garlic, rosemary chicken, and fresh bread drifted from the kitchen. Soft classical piano music played over the integrated ceiling speakers.
In the dining room, the table was immaculately set with fine porcelain and sterling silver. Wendy was sitting at the head of the table, sipping a glass of vintage Pinot Noir, laughing casually with Jessi, who was setting out crystal water goblets.
Fiona was seated in the corner chair, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her eyes fixed on the tablecloth. She looked pale and exhausted, but the moment she saw me walk into the room, a spark of life returned to her eyes.
"Daddy!" Fiona gasped, half-rising from her chair.
Wendy's wine glass froze halfway to her lips. Her eyes widened in unmistakable shock and panic before she quickly smoothed her features into a tight, patronizing smile.
"David?" Jessi turned around, her face instantly lighting up with genuine surprise and warmth. She rushed over, throwing her arms around my neck and kissing my cheek. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in Chicago until Thursday!"
I held Jessi close, breathing in her familiar lavender perfume, while my eyes remained locked entirely on Wendy. "Flight had a mechanical issue before takeoff. Board agreed to reschedule via video conference tomorrow. I decided I'd rather spend the evening with my family."
Wendy set her wine glass down with a faint clink. "Well... what a delightful surprise, David. Though it's quite unprofessional for an airline to cancel on a man of your stature so abruptly, isn't it?"
"Safety first, Wendy," I said, walking over and pulling out my chair directly opposite her. "You never know what kind of dangerous, hidden flaws are lurking under the surface until you take a closer look."
Wendy’s smile tightened, her manicured fingers drumming nervously against the mahogany table. "Indeed. Well, we're glad you're home. Fiona had a bit of a tummy ache earlier, so I kept her home from afternoon activities to rest."
"Did you?" I looked directly at Wendy, my eyes boring into hers. "That's strange. Maria told me she saw you take Fiona out in your SUV around ten this morning."
A heavy, suffocating silence dropped over the room.
Jessi stopped pouring water, glancing between me and her mother with sudden confusion. "Mom? You took Fiona out? I thought you were resting in the cottage all morning."
Wendy let out a high-pitched, dismissive laugh. "Oh, goodness, Maria must be getting confused in her old age! We just drove down to the local pharmacy to pick up some ginger drops for Fiona’s nausea. We weren't gone more than ten minutes. Weren't we, Fiona darling?"
Wendy's voice held an icy, underlying threat that only Fiona and I could truly understand.
Fiona shrank back into her chair, her tiny fingers clutching the edge of her napkin. She looked at Wendy with sheer dread, then glanced at me with pleading eyes.
"Fiona," I said softly, my voice filled with steady, absolute reassurance. "You don't ever have to lie in this house. Did you go to the pharmacy for candy today?"
Fiona swallowed hard. Her lower lip quivered. She looked at Wendy, then looked at me, and shook her head. "No, Daddy. We went to the gray building by the water. Grandma made me hide under the blanket again."
The crystal water pitcher slipped from Jessi's hands, shattering violently against the hardwood floor. Water and glass shards exploded across the dining room.
"What?" Jessi whispered, her face draining of all color as she stared at her mother in horror. "Mom... what is Fiona talking about? What gray building?"
Wendy's mask of grandmotherly sweetness shattered in an instant. A dark, venomous sneer curled her lips as she stood up, knocking her chair backward.
"The child is making things up, Jessi! She has an overactive imagination, just like you did at her age! How dare you interrogate me in front of the help!" Wendy hissed, turning her blazing glare directly onto me. "And you, David... you think you can control everything with your money and your arrogance? You have no idea what is coming for you."
"Sit down, Wendy," I said, my voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly calm.
"I will not sit down in my own daughter's house!" Wendy shrieked. "I gave up everything to come here! You treat me like a criminal because I took my granddaughter for a drive?"
"I said sit down," I repeated, pulling a manila folder from my briefcase and slamming it down onto the center of the dining table.
The folder fell open, scattering high-resolution surveillance photographs across the white tablecloth.
Photographs of Wendy standing in the grimy alleyway.
Photographs of the electronic keypad on the steel door.
And high-definition, crystal-clear close-ups of Julian Sterling handing her the Swiss wire envelope while smiling down at our daughter.
May you like
Jessi looked down at the photos. Her knees instantly buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor amidst the spilled water and broken glass, letting out a primal, bloodcurdling scream of pure terror.
"Julian...?" Jessi gasped, hyperventilating as she clawed at the photographs. "No... no, no, no! He died! He died eight years ago! I saw the wreckage! Mom... what did you do?! WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
