Chapter 9 - The Trap is Set
Inside the ballroom, the atmosphere had transformed from somber solemnity to jubilation. Guests gathered around Chloe, who was sitting back in her chair, laughing as she kicked her feet up and down, demonstrating her newfound movement to a group of astonished doctors.
Julian stood a few feet away, sipping his champagne with a forced, rigid smile. His eyes darted nervously toward the side entrance, waiting for Victor to return.
The heavy oak doors clicked open.
Victor walked back into the hall alone. His emerald velvet suit was immaculate, his dark hair neatly combed, his expression entirely unreadable. He walked straight over to Chloe, kissing her forehead gently.
"Daddy, where did the dirty boy go?" Chloe asked softly.
"He had to go home, sweetheart," Victor murmured, smiling warmly at her. "But he left us a wonderful gift."
Victor stood up, turning to face his brother. "Julian, a word in the study. Now."
Julian’s eyes flickered with suspicion, but he nodded smoothly. "Of course, Victor. A extraordinary evening, isn't it?"
They walked in silence down the grand hallway to Victor’s private, soundproof study. Once inside, Julian closed the heavy mahogany door and turned to his brother, a sympathetic look plastered across his face.
"Victor, I know you're overwhelmed," Julian began, taking a step toward the desk. "This... sudden recovery... it’s hysterical paralysis ending, surely. We must have her examined by a proper psychiatrist immediately—"
"Save it, Julian," Victor interrupted, stepping behind his desk and sitting down calmly.
"Excuse me?"
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Victor pulled a heavy, black leather ledger from his drawer and laid it flat on the desk, alongside a crisp white envelope bearing the seal of the State Forensic Bureau.
"The police are already waiting outside the main gates," Victor said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Detective Vance has the syringe of nerve toxin retrieved from your desk, along with the financial records showing your five-million-dollar offshore gambling debt."
