Chapter 2 - The Poison in the Wine
The room didn't fall silent immediately. That is not how wealth falls apart. It collapses under the cover of polished silverware, soft string quartets, and polite laughter.
Marcus Vance approached us with measured steps. He didn't look like a threat to the casual observer; he looked like an executive who had arrived late from the city. But Matthias was sweating beneath his tailored tuxedo.
“Matthias,” Marcus said, extending a hand.
Matthias hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it. His grip was rigid.
“Agent Vance. I didn't realize you were on the guest list.”
“Serena extended the invitation this morning,” Marcus said, offering a cordial nod in my direction. “Given the developments regarding the Hensley merger, it seemed appropriate to attend in person.”
Fiona had already crossed the floor. She glided between two hedge fund managers, her posture impeccably straight, her ivory silk gown rustling against the hardwood. The diamond choker around her throat caught every ray of light, throwing fractured reflections across Matthias’s face.
“Matthias,” Fiona purred, resting a manicured hand lightly on his forearm. It was an unmistakable territorial marker. “Aren't you going to introduce your colleague?”
She didn't look at me. To Fiona, a heavily pregnant wife standing by the mantelpiece was merely an inconvenient domestic detail.
“Fiona Vale,” Matthias said, clearing his throat. “This is Special Agent Marcus Vance.”
Fiona’s fingers twitched against Matthias’s sleeve. Her painted smile faltered for the barest fraction of a second before snapping back into place.
“Federal enforcement?” she chuckled, tilting her head. “Matthias, I thought you said this was an intimate family gathering.”
“It is,” I said quietly.
Fiona finally turned her eyes on me. They were cold, pale green, and utterly devoid of warmth.
“Serena,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy. “You look exhausted. Shouldn't you be sitting down? In your condition, stress can be so… unpredictable.”
“I’m doing remarkably well, Fiona,” I answered. “Though I was admiring your necklace. It’s exquisite. Cartier, isn't it? Platinum setting with emerald-cut diamonds.”
Matthias’s eyes widened in warning.
Fiona touched the diamonds at her throat, completely unbothered. “A gift from someone who appreciates discretion and results.”
“How fascinating,” I said. “Because the invoice for that exact piece was billed through an offshore shell company called Meridian Maritime three Tuesdays ago. The same maritime holding company currently under investigation for laundering capital out of the Hensley acquisition.”
The air between the four of us turned to ice.
A waiter walked past offering flutes of vintage Dom Pérignon. Marcus politely waved him away. Matthias looked as if he were suffocating inside his collar.
“Serena,” Matthias whispered between clenched teeth. “Stop this nonsense right now. We will discuss our personal matters at home.”
“We don't have personal matters anymore, Matthias,” I said, looking straight into his eyes. “We only have criminal liabilities.”
Fiona pulled her hand away from Matthias’s arm. Her gaze darted toward the eastern wing of the house—toward the private study where Matthias’s father, Arthur Dre, was currently meeting with the firm’s senior trustees.
“Excuse me,” Fiona said abruptly. “I need to use the powder room.”
She turned on her heel and hurried through the crowded ballroom.
Marcus leaned toward me. “She’s moving toward the server room on the ground floor. Exactly as we predicted.”
“Go,” I told him. “Arthur is in the library. He has no idea what Matthias signed him up for.”
Marcus nodded, slipped into the crowd, and vanished behind the towering floral arrangements.
Matthias grabbed my wrist. His grip was too tight, his fingers digging into my skin.
“What did you do?” he snarled under his breath. “What did you tell them, Serena?”
I didn't flinch. In the emergency room, I had handled violent, combative men twice his size.
“Let go of my arm, Matthias,” I said evenly. “Before I scream, cause a scene, and have sixty of your most prominent investors watch security drag you out of your father’s house.”
He stared at me, realizing for the first time in nine years of marriage that he did not know who I was at all.
He released my wrist.
May you like
“You’re destroying us,” he whispered.
“No,” I replied, smoothing down my burgundy dress. “You destroyed us in New Haven. I’m just here to make sure you don't take your father and my daughter down with you.”
