Chapter 4 - Reckoning in the Drawing Room
Victor Vance was a man who took pride in his tailored wardrobe and his immaculate grooming. He stepped into the drawing room carrying a leather briefcase, his expression a carefully crafted mask of familial concern.
"Nathan," Victor began, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. "I came as soon as I heard the news from the gate guard. They said you had doctors coming in from Yale? Is everything all right with Marcus and Mason?"
Nathan sat in a wingback chair near the roaring fireplace, a glass of scotch resting in his hand. He didn't offer his hand in return. He didn't even look up immediately.
"The boys are fine, Victor," Nathan said softly. "In fact, they’re better than they’ve been in eight months."
Victor paused, his hand dropping slowly to his side. "Really? That’s... that’s wonderful news. Did Ashford find a new treatment protocol?"
"Ashford didn't find anything," Nathan said. He gestured toward the shadows near the corner of the room.
I stepped out into the light, holding a heavy glass beaker containing the clear, sweet-smelling liquid retrieved from the HVAC system. Beside me stood two of Nathan’s enforcers, their jackets unbuttoned, revealing the dark leather shoulder holsters underneath.
Victor’s eyes darted from me to the beaker, then to the men standing beside me. "What is the meaning of this, Nathan? Who is this woman?"
"This is Sarah," Nathan said, taking a slow sip of his drink. "She’s my sons' new nanny. She found something Dr. Ashford forgot to mention during his three-million-dollar consultations."
Nathan tossed the small black atomizer onto the marble coffee table between them. It rolled to a stop right against the toe of Victor’s handcrafted Italian shoes.
Victor stared down at the device, his face draining of color. "I... I don't know what that is."
"It’s an atomizer, Victor," I said, taking a step closer. "It was installed in the ventilation system of the boys' wing. It was dispersing thallium sulfate into their rooms while they slept. Dr. Ashford was compounding the dose through custom liquid supplements."
"That’s insane!" Victor spat, his voice rising in panic as he turned back to Nathan. "Nathan, you can't possibly believe this nonsense! Ashford is a respected professional! If he did something wrong, it was a mistake—an error in judgment!"
"Ashford is currently sitting in my wine cellar," Nathan said, his voice dropping an octave. "He sang like a canary after fifteen minutes with my head of security. He gave me bank account numbers, encrypted emails, and a copy of the contract you signed promising him five million dollars upon the transfer of my wife's company shares."
Victor took a step backward toward the exit, but the heavy oak doors slammed shut behind him. Two more security guards stepped into the room, blocking the way out.
"Nathan, listen to me," Victor stammered, sweat breaking out across his forehead. "I was desperate! The debts... the men in London... they were going to kill me! I didn't want to hurt the boys—Ashford told me it would just make them sick enough to force you to step down from the board!"
"You tried to murder six-year-old children," Nathan said, rising slowly from his chair. The aura of the weary father vanished, replaced by the terrifying presence of a man who ruled an underworld empire through absolute ruthlessness. "My children."
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Victor fell to his knees, his hands clasped together. "Please, Nathan! For Clara's sake! She was my sister!"
"Clara would have put a bullet through your head herself," Nathan said. He looked over at his security chief. "Take him downstairs. Join him with Ashford. I’ll decide what to do with both of them after I tuck my sons into bed."
