CHAPTER 12: THE RED CRYSTAL GLASS
Victor didn't answer.
The phone remained pressed against his ear, but his mind had already traveled back nearly two years.
The night his wife died.
Rain had lashed against the windows of the Blackwood estate.
A charity gala had just ended.
Business partners, politicians, celebrities, and security personnel filled the ballroom.
His wife, Isabella, had been smiling only minutes earlier.
Then...
She collapsed.
Doctors blamed a sudden cerebral aneurysm.
The coroner found no obvious signs of poison.
The death was ruled natural.
Victor buried her three days later.
He never questioned it.
Until now.
"Lily."
His voice was quieter than before.
"Don't ask Ethan any more questions."
"Why?"
"Because children don't invent memories like that."
He ended the call.
Marcus studied him.
"Boss?"
Victor looked toward Daniel's body.
"Everything started before Serena."
Marcus frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Victor slipped Daniel's letter into his coat.
"Ethan wasn't the first target."
Blackwood Memorial Hospital
Lily knelt beside Ethan's bed.
The little boy hugged his blue dinosaur against his chest.
She smiled gently.
"Sweetheart..."
"Can you tell me about the pretty lady?"
Ethan looked down.
His tiny fingers tightened around the toy.
"No..."
Lily immediately stopped.
She remembered Victor's instruction.
Children who experienced severe trauma could relive fear through questioning.
Instead, she picked up a picture book.
"Let's read."
Ethan nodded.
After several pages...
His breathing relaxed.
Then, completely on his own, he whispered,
"Pretty lady mad."
Lily didn't interrupt.
"Mommy cry."
Her heart skipped.
"Pretty lady say..."
He struggled to pronounce the words.
"...juice sleepy."
Lily felt ice spread through her body.
Those weren't the words of imagination.
They were fragments.
Fragments of something Ethan had witnessed.
Two Years Earlier
The Blackwood estate had been alive with music.
Isabella Blackwood stood near the grand piano, greeting guests.
She laughed easily.
Unlike Victor, she enjoyed people.
She remembered names.
Birthdays.
Anniversaries.
Even the children of household staff adored her.
Victor remembered teasing her once.
"You're too kind for this world."
She had smiled.
"Then you'll have to be kind enough for both of us."
It was one of the last conversations they ever shared.
Near midnight...
Serena approached carrying two crystal glasses filled with red wine.
"You look exhausted."
Isabella laughed.
"I feel exhausted."
"You should sit."
"I will."
Serena handed her one glass.
"The imported Bordeaux finally arrived."
Isabella accepted it without hesitation.
Victor remembered watching from across the ballroom.
He had been speaking with investors.
He saw Isabella raise the glass.
Take one sip.
Then another.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing suspicious.
Twenty minutes later...
She collapsed.
Present Day
Victor entered the private archives beneath Blackwood Tower.
Rows of steel cabinets stretched into the darkness.
Only one person besides Victor possessed access.
The family archivist.
An elderly man named Harold.
Harold looked surprised.
"Sir?"
"I need Isabella's case file."
Harold hesitated.
"You've never asked for it."
"I'm asking now."
Within minutes, a thick folder rested on Victor's desk.
Autopsy.
Toxicology.
Hospital reports.
Witness statements.
Victor examined every page.
Nothing.
Everything appeared perfectly ordinary.
Then...
A folded receipt slipped from the back of the folder.
Harold frowned.
"That shouldn't be there."
Victor unfolded it.
A catering invoice.
Wine service.
Guest seating.
Nothing unusual...
Until he reached the final line.
Special Crystal Collection
Borrowed by: Serena Montigue
Victor looked up.
"Why would Serena borrow the serving glasses?"
Harold adjusted his spectacles.
"I don't know."
"She wasn't family then."
"No."
"But Miss Isabella insisted Serena help organize the gala."
Victor stared silently at the receipt.
His wife...
Had trusted Serena.
Across the City
Inside the abandoned church...
Serena watched television coverage of the hospital lockdown.
A reporter stood outside Blackwood Memorial.
"...Sources confirm Ethan Blackwood remains under heavy protection..."
She muted the television.
One of her operatives entered.
"We've lost contact with Daniel."
She smiled sadly.
"I expected that."
"He knew too much."
She walked toward a stained-glass window.
Sunlight painted red patterns across the floor.
"Did he tell Victor everything?"
"We don't know."
Serena closed her eyes.
"If he mentioned Isabella..."
The operative frowned.
"What then?"
Serena opened her eyes again.
"Then Phase Three begins tonight."
Blackwood Tower
Marcus hurried into Victor's office carrying another folder.
"Boss."
Victor looked up.
"What is it?"
"I checked the gala guest list from two years ago."
"And?"
Marcus placed a photograph on the desk.
A candid image from the ballroom.
Guests talking.
Servers moving through the crowd.
Victor and Isabella dancing.
Nothing unusual.
Marcus pointed toward the far corner.
"There."
Victor leaned closer.
Near the wine table...
Serena stood beside someone partially hidden behind a column.
Only half the man's face was visible.
But Victor recognized him immediately.
Adrian.
Marcus frowned.
"They were talking."
Victor remained silent.
Marcus continued.
"The official record says Adrian arrived an hour later."
Victor's eyes narrowed.
"So the timeline was altered."
Marcus nodded.
"It appears someone changed the attendance log."
Victor slowly stood.
"Bring Adrian."
Marcus hesitated.
"For questioning?"
Victor answered calmly.
"No."
"For dinner."
Marcus looked confused.
Victor buttoned his jacket.
"If Adrian is guilty..."
"...he won't confess in an interrogation."
He picked up the old photograph.
"He'll reveal himself..."
"...when he believes I know nothing."
That evening...
Adrian accepted Victor's invitation without hesitation.
The dinner table had been prepared exactly as it had been two years earlier.
Same room.
Same lighting.
Same silverware.
Same crystal glasses.
And in the center of the table...
A bottle of imported Bordeaux.
Victor personally poured two glasses of wine.
One for himself.
One for Adrian.
Adrian smiled politely.
"Trying to recreate old memories?"
Victor raised his glass.
"Something like that."
Adrian reached for his own glass.
Just before his fingers touched it...
His eyes suddenly widened.
Not at Victor.
Not at the wine.
At the crystal itself.
His hand stopped in midair.
For the first time in decades...
The always-composed Adrian looked genuinely afraid.
Victor noticed every detail.
He smiled faintly.
Then asked only one question.
"Tell me, Adrian..."
May you like
"...why does this glass frighten you?"
END OF CHAPTER 12
