Chapter 12 - Who Poured the Champagne?The birthday photographs were everywhere.
Tiffany had posted dozens.
People smiling.
Cake.
Champagne.
Family portraits.
I downloaded all of them.
Then I slowed them down.
One image stopped me.
My mother was holding a champagne bottle.
Cole stood beside her.
Daniel was in the background.
Victor wasn't there.
I zoomed in.
Daniel was talking to a man I didn't recognize.
I showed it to Thomas.
He went pale.
"That's Marcus Bell."
"Who is he?"
"Daniel's former security contractor."
Evelyn frowned.
"Why would he be here?"
Thomas looked at me.
"He wasn't hired for security."
"Then what?"
"To watch."
I kept studying the photo.
My mother's hand was shaking.
Someone had poured champagne into Grandpa's glass that night.
I suddenly remembered something.
At Grandpa's final dinner, he'd refused wine.
He always drank bourbon.
But that night, someone had convinced him to have champagne.
Who?
I searched the photographs again.
My mother.
She'd been the one pouring.
I confronted her that evening.
She didn't deny it.
"Your grandfather wanted champagne."
"Did he?"
"I thought he did."
"Mom."
She closed her eyes.
"Daniel told me it was harmless."
My heart dropped.
"Daniel gave you something to put in his glass."
"No."
"Then what did he give you?"
She cried.
"A supplement."
I stared.
"What supplement?"
"I don't know."
"Did you see the bottle?"
"No."
"Then how do you know?"
"Because he told me it would help Bernard sleep."
I stepped backward.
"You gave Grandpa something you couldn't identify."
She covered her mouth.
"I didn't know."
"You didn't know."
"I swear."
I looked at Dad.
His face was devastated.
"Did you know?"
He shook his head.
"No."
"Did Cole?"
"No."
"Tiffany?"
"No."
I looked back at Mom.
"How much did Daniel pay you?"
She stared.
"I didn't take money."
"Then what?"
"He promised he would erase the debt."
"What debt?"
My father's voice came quietly.
"Ours."
I looked at him.
He finally confessed.
The family company had been insolvent in pieces for years.
Grandpa had kept it alive by moving assets around.
When Victor took control of certain accounts, Daniel had discovered the weaknesses.
Then he had offered my parents a deal.
Cooperate.
Or lose everything.
They cooperated.
Not because they were evil.
Because they were afraid.
That distinction did not erase the consequences.
But it explained the shape of the trap.
Cole had taken the largest loans.
Tiffany had accepted payments.
Mom had moved records.
Dad had signed documents.
And Grandpa had seen the whole thing.
So he built the trust.
Then he started collecting evidence.
I asked Thomas one final question.
"Did Grandpa know what Daniel put into the champagne?"
Thomas nodded.
"He suspected."
"Then why didn't he go to the police?"
"He planned to."
"When?"
"The next morning."
I closed my eyes.
"But he died that night."
Thomas nodded.
My body felt cold.
We needed proof.
Not suspicion.
Proof.
Evelyn found an old toxicology sample.
Grandpa's blood sample had been stored by the original medical practice.
She arranged emergency testing.
The result arrived two days later.
A sedative.
Not lethal.
But enough to alter judgment and reaction time.
Then another substance.
A compound that could worsen an existing cardiac condition.
The combination did not prove murder by itself.
But it changed the case.
Then the doctor appeared.
Dr. Samuel Grant.
Alive.
Exhausted.
Terrified.
He told us he had been paid to amend the medical report.
By Daniel.
And the original report contained one critical observation.
There were fingerprints on Grandpa's champagne glass.
Three sets.
Grandpa's.
My mother's.
And another.
Daniel's.
I stared at the page.
"Why didn't you testify?"
Dr. Grant looked at me.
"Because Daniel sent me a photograph."
"What photograph?"
"My daughter."
Silence.
"He told me that if I spoke, she would disappear."
My fists clenched.
"Where is she now?"
"Safe."
"How?"
"She's in Canada."
I looked at Evelyn.
This wasn't just an estate dispute anymore.
It was organized coercion.
And Grandpa had spent his final months building a trap for the man who believed he controlled everyone.
That trap had finally closed.
But Daniel wasn't finished.
That night, Cole called me.
"Megan."
"What?"
"I need to tell you something."
"Go ahead."
"I saw Daniel at the hospital the night Grandpa died."
My chest tightened.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because he told me if I spoke, Mom would go to prison."
"Did you see what he did?"
Cole was silent.
Then he said:
"I saw him put something in Grandpa's glass."
I closed my eyes.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you let me believe I was crazy?"
His voice cracked.
"Because I was afraid."
I understood then.
Not forgave.
Understood.
Fear had built this family brick by brick.
And now we had to tear it down the same way.
I asked Cole one more question.
"Will you testify?"
Silence.
Then:
May you like
"Yes."
The next morning, before he could sign the statement, Cole disappeared.
