Chapter 15 - The Poison in the Cellar
By 3:00 AM, Vance Tower was under complete military-grade lockdown. Manhattan was crawling with federal agents and Vance security contractors. The failed attack at the Met Gala had sent shockwaves through Wall Street; Vance Enterprises stock had dipped five percent at opening futures before surging right back up as Alexander personally appeared on financial networks to announce an aggressive buyout of every asset connected to the Davenport and Sterling estates.
Inside the private hospital suite on the eighty-second floor of the tower, Evelyn Vance lay resting under light sedation, monitored by personal physicians. The stress of the attack had strained her heart, but she was out of danger.
Maria stood outside the glass wall, still wearing her torn, blood-splattered red gown. She had refused to change until she knew Evelyn was breathing steadily.
Alexander walked up behind her, holding a warm cashmere wrap. He gently draped it over her shoulders, sliding his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on top of her head.
"You haven't slept in twenty-four hours," he murmured softly. "The doctor said my mother is going to be fine. Let me take you to bed, Maria."
Maria leaned back against his solid chest, closing her eyes for a fleeting second to inhale his scent—cedarwood, rain, and the faint, bitter trace of gunpowder. "If I go to sleep, I see Julian's eyes. He didn't come to the Met to kill us, Alexander."
Alexander stiffened. "What do you mean?"
Maria turned within his embrace, looking up into his dark gaze. "Think about it. He had six snipers with clear sightlines. If Julian wanted you dead, he wouldn't have given a dramatic speech. He wouldn't have stood in a spotlight. He wanted a distraction."
Alexander’s eyes narrowed into slits. His tactical mind, sharpened by years of corporate combat and military training, instantly processed her words. "A distraction from what?"
Before Maria could speak, the elevator chime rang down the corridor. Dr. Bennett, the Vance family’s private physician for thirty years, ran toward them. His white coat was unbuttoned, his face pale as chalk.
"Alexander! Thank God you're still awake," Bennett wheezed.
"Bennett? What is it?" Alexander asked, instantly stepping forward.
"The toxic screen on your mother," Bennett said, holding up a digital tablet displaying frantic chemical graphs. "She didn't suffer a panic-induced cardiac episode from the gala news. She was poisoned."
Maria’s breath caught in her throat. "What?"
"A synthetic derivative of digitalis," Dr. Bennett explained, his hands shaking. "Slow-acting. Administered in micro-doses over the past seventy-two hours. It mimics acute heart failure. If she had taken her morning dose of heart medication, the combination would have caused massive, undetectable cardiac arrest."
"Where did it come from?" Alexander asked, his voice deadly low.
"We ran tests on everything she consumed in this building," Dr. Bennett swallowed hard, casting a terrified glance toward Maria. "It was found in the artisanal chamomile tea imported exclusively for her private quarters. The shipment that arrived two days ago... signed for by the domestic service staff."
Alexander didn't move. But his eyes slowly shifted toward the hallway leading to the lower quarters where Maria’s former domestic colleagues—the maids, butlers, and kitchen staff she had worked beside for years—were housed.
"Someone inside the house," Alexander whispered, the betrayal burning through him like acid. "Someone who wore our uniform."
Maria felt a cold hand squeeze her lungs. "No. The staff on the private floor have been with Evelyn for ten years. Rosa, Elena, Mr. Henderson... they loved her. They wouldn't touch her."
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"Someone took the money, Maria," Alexander said, the tenderness in his voice hardening into absolute, merciless authority. "Carter! Assemble every single member of the domestic staff in the grand ballroom downstairs right now. Lock the doors. Nobody leaves until I have a confession."
***
