Chapter 6 - The Poisoner’s Ledger
The storm raged through the night, rattling the heavy glass panes of the Conservatory. Inside, the fire in the stone hearth had burned down to a pile of glowing orange embers, casting long, dancing shadows across the leather chairs.
Clara sat with her legs pulled up under her, a cup of hot chamomile tea resting in her lap. Daniel stood by the glass wall, looking out into the pitch-black abyss of the fjord below, a crystal glass of amber scotch untouched in his hand.
"Tell me about 1998," Clara asked softly.
Daniel took a slow breath, his breath fogging the cold glass in front of him. "I was twelve years old. My mother, Eleanor, was a healthy, vibrant woman who spent her mornings riding horses across the estate. Within six weeks of Victoria arriving as a guest... Eleanor developed an 'autoimmune' condition. She lost her memory, her speech slurred, and eventually, her heart simply stopped while she was resting in the boat house."
"Was there no autopsy?"
"In the Vance family, Clara, autopsies are arranged by the family foundation," Daniel said, his voice bitter as bile. "The coroner was a shareholder in my father’s shipping firm. Eleanor was buried within forty-eight hours. Three months later, Victoria moved into the master suite as the new Mrs. Vance."
Clara set her tea cup down on the table, her mind connecting the dark threads. "And your father? Why is he bedridden now?"
Daniel turned around, his face half-draped in shadow. "Because six months ago, I announced my intention to audit the family foundation’s offshore accounts. Two weeks after I filed the court papers, my father suffered a mysterious 'stroke' that left him unable to speak or sign legal documents. Victoria stepped in as his legal guardian."
Clara’s hand flew to her mouth. "She's poisoning him too. The same way she killed your mother."
"Slowly," Daniel agreed, taking a single step toward her. "Small doses of thallium or arsenic mixed into his daily saline drip. Enough to keep him incapacitated so he can't alter his will before my thirty-fifth birthday, but slow enough to look like natural vascular dementia."
Clara stood up, her short copper hair swinging against her neck. "Then we don't have until your birthday, Daniel. Your father will be dead within a month. And once he's gone, Victoria inherits the voting shares. She will destroy you—and she will destroy our child."
Daniel walked over to her, grabbing her by the arms, his grip fierce and protective. "That's why you are leaving tonight, Clara. I have a boat waiting at the lower cove. My contact in Norway will take you to a safehouse in Bergen."
"No," Clara said firmly, her voice ringing with an unexpected, fierce authority.
Daniel blinked. "Clara, you're pregnant! You're carrying the heir to this entire estate! If Victoria finds out—"
"If I leave, she wins!" Clara interrupted, leaning into him, her green eyes burning with an intense, unyielding light. "She expects me to run! She thinks she terrified me tonight with those shears! If I vanish, she will claim I stole from the house, use her guards to hunt me down, and you will be left here alone in this glass house with no leverage!"
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"I cannot protect you if you are in the main house!" Daniel argued, his voice rising in panic.
"You don't need to protect me in the main house, Daniel," Clara whispered, reaching up to lay her palm flat against his jawline. "Because tonight, I'm not going back as a maid. I'm going back as your wife."
