Chapter 5 - The Descent into the Mansion
Downstairs in the formal dining room, Richard and Victoria sat across from each other at the twenty-foot mahogany table, reviewing wedding invitation proofs spread out between crystal water goblets.
"I think the embossed gold lettering is a bit too loud," Victoria was saying, smiling across the table as she sipped her sparkling water. "Let's go with the platinum finish. It speaks of understated power, don't you think, Richard?"
Richard nodded distantly, his eyes glazing over slightly. He reached for the glass of evening herbal tonic that the butler had placed beside his plate ten minutes early. A subtle wave of heavy fatigue washed over him—a persistent, unexplained exhaustion that had been plaguing him for the last two months, making his limbs feel like lead and his thoughts drift like fog.
"If you like platinum, we’ll do platinum," Richard murmured, lifting the glass to his lips.
Before the rim could touch his mouth, the heavy dining room doors flew open with a violent crash that rattled the crystal chandelier overhead.
Richard froze, lowering the glass.
Victoria’s pleasant smile vanished instantly, replaced by a flash of cold annoyance as she turned toward the entrance.
Standing in the doorway were the triplets. They weren't crying quietly anymore; they were sobbing uncontrollably, gasping for breath, their faces flushed red from running down three flights of stairs. Ethan stood in the center, his small chest heaving, pointing a trembling finger directly across the dining room.
"Papa! Stop! Don't drink that!" Ethan screamed at the top of his lungs.
The sound echoed off the high ceilings, sharp and desperate, carrying the raw terror of three children who believed their world was ending.
Richard blinked, startled, setting the glass back down on the mahogany table. He stood up from his chair, his expression shifting from annoyance to immediate paternal concern. "Boys? What on earth is wrong with you? Why aren't you upstairs in the playroom?"
"Don't drink it, Papa! She’s putting bad medicine in your cup!" Liam wailed, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pointed frantically at the glass of herbal tonic.
Victoria stood up smoothly, her face a masterclass of fabricated shock and wounded dignity. "Well! I never. The audacity of these children... they must have been watching some terrible television show upstairs. Richard, you really need to hire a professional nanny who can control their wild behavior now that your little maid is gone."
Richard looked at Victoria, then back at his sons. A strange, nagging instinct prickled at the back of his mind. He knew his sons. Ethan, Noah, and Liam were naturally quiet, introverted boys. They didn't throw tantrums, they didn't lie, and they certainly didn't storm the dining room screaming unless something catastrophic had occurred.
"Boys, calm down," Richard commanded gently, taking a step toward them. "Tell me what you're talking about. What medicine?"
"The white powder!" Noah cried out, stepping forward bravely despite his terror. "We saw her! We saw Victoria put the white powder in your cup in the pantry three days ago! She wants to make you sick like the birds in the garden!"
The dining room went dead silent.
May you like
Victoria’s face went chalk white. For a fraction of a second, her immaculate composure shattered entirely, revealing the panicked cornered rat hiding beneath her expensive designer clothes.
"That is an outrageous, filthy lie!" Victoria shrieked, her voice pitching upward in sheer hysteria. "Richard, you cannot possibly believe these ungrateful brats! They are making up stories because they hate me! They want to ruin our wedding!"
