Chapter 1: The Untouched Glass
“Get up! You’re embarrassing me!””
Elena hit the marble floor on both knees.
The sound of breaking glass sliced through the ballroom.
Two champagne flutes toppled from the engagement table, spinning across the white marble before shattering beneath the crystal chandeliers. Conversation died instantly. Hundreds of wealthy guests turned toward the commotion.
Elena barely noticed.
Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't push herself upright.
Victoria grabbed her shoulder.
“Get up,” Victoria hissed.
“Now.””
Elena stared up at her.
The burgundy satin gown. The diamond necklace. The perfectly straight black hair falling over one shoulder.
Victoria looked flawless.
Elena looked like she'd been running for her life.
“I—I’m sorry, Ms. Victoria,” Elena whispered.
“You should be.””
Victoria tightened her fingers around Elena's arm and tried to pull her upright.
Then Dante spoke.
“Let her go.””
The ballroom went still.
Victoria froze.
Dante stood several yards away beneath the largest chandelier, one hand resting casually against his jacket. His black tuxedo was immaculate, his white shirt open at the collar. His slicked-back hair and trimmed beard gave nothing away.
But his eyes had changed.
Victoria released Elena.
“Dante,” she said, forcing a smile.
“It’s nothing.””
He walked toward them.
Slowly.
The crowd instinctively parted.
Nobody wanted to stand between Dante and a problem.
Elena lowered her eyes.
Dante stopped beside the table.
“What happened?””
Victoria laughed softly.
“She fainted. That's all.””
“I didn't ask you.””
Victoria's smile disappeared.
Dante looked down.
Beside Elena's trembling hand sat a single untouched glass of water with lemon.
He picked it up.
Victoria's face changed.
“Dante,” she said quickly, “leave that.””
He looked at her.
“Why?””
“It’s just water.””
Dante raised the glass.
A cloudy residue clung to the bottom.
He turned it slightly beneath the chandelier.
“What’s this?””
Victoria stepped closer.
“Probably pulp.””
Dante brought the glass near his nose.
He smelled it.
Once.
Then again.
Elena watched him, terrified.
Victoria suddenly grabbed his wrist.
“Don't.””
The word escaped her before she could stop it.
Dante slowly looked down at her hand.
Victoria released him.
“I mean,” she said, swallowing, “you don't know where it came from.””
Dante's expression remained calm.
“Neither do you?””
“I—”
He crouched beside Elena.
“What happened?””
Elena's breathing became shallow.
She looked toward Victoria.
Victoria stared back.
It wasn't an angry look anymore.
It was a warning.
Elena's lips trembled.
Dante noticed.
“Elena.””
She swallowed.
“Tell me.””
Victoria stepped forward.
“Dante, she's frightened. She doesn't know what she's saying.””
Elena squeezed her eyes shut.
Then she whispered, “She made me carry that drink.””
Dante looked at the glass.
“For who?””
Elena opened her eyes.
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“For you.””
Victoria went completely pale.
Dante stood.
The ballroom seemed to shrink around them.
He held the glass in one hand.
His voice was almost gentle.
“What did you put in it?””
Victoria opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Dante took one step toward her.
“Victoria.””
She backed away.
“I didn't—”
“Don't lie.””
“I wasn't trying to hurt you.””
A murmur passed through the guests.
Dante's jaw tightened.
“Then why was Elena carrying poison?””
Victoria's eyes widened.
“You don't know that.””
Dante glanced at the glass.
“No.””
He looked back at her.
“But you just told me enough.””
Victoria's breathing became uneven.
“Dante, listen to me.””
“I'm listening.””
“You're making a mistake.””
“What mistake?””
“You're trusting a maid over your fiancée.””
Elena flinched.
Dante's eyes moved toward her.
Then back to Victoria.
“I don't trust either of you.””
A phone rang somewhere in the ballroom.
Nobody answered.
Dante reached inside his jacket.
Victoria watched his hand disappear beneath the black fabric.
“Dante…”
He pulled out his phone.
One new message.
No name.
Just a number.
The message contained a photograph.
Dante opened it.
His face went completely still.
May you like
It was a picture of Victoria entering the private kitchen earlier that evening.
And standing beside her was someone Dante had buried eight years ago.
