Chapter 4 - The Poisoner Exposed
The double doors of the grand library on the main floor were closed, but the muffled sound of low, arrogant laughter carried easily down the hallway.
Inside, Sterling Kane was standing near the fireplace, holding a crystal tumbler of twenty-year-old scotch. Surrounding him were five heavily armed men in dark suits, alongside Dr. Alan Whitfield, who was casually signing a stack of legal documents spread across the mahogany desk.
"To the memory of my dear brother, Everett," Sterling proclaimed loudly, raising his glass toward the ceiling. "A man who lived fast, ruled hard, and died quietly in his sleep."
The men chuckled, raising their glasses in return.
"He was a nightmare to manage," Whitfield chimed in, slipping his silver pen into his breast pocket. "At least with the girl taking the blame for his sudden decline, we won't have any unwanted autopsies."
"Speaking of the bride," one of the lieutenants sneered, "what happens to her now, Sterling? Throw her back onto the street?"
"She's a liability," Sterling said smoothly, taking a sip of his drink. "Once the ink is dry on these property transfers, Clara will have an unfortunate accident. A tragic end for a disgraced nurse."
Suddenly, the heavy double doors did not just open—they were kicked backward with a sound like thunder, slamming against the wood-paneled walls.
The room went dead quiet.
Everett stood framed in the doorway, tall, imposing, and looking terrifyingly alive in his dark suit. I stood firmly at his left side, carrying my black notebook tucked safely under my arm.
Sterling dropped his scotch glass. The crystal shattered across the Persian rug, amber liquid soaking into the wool.
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"What... what is this?" Whitfield stammered, backing away so fast he knocked a brass lamp off the desk. "He was... he was comatose! The toxin was irreversible!"
"You always were a terrible physician, Alan," Everett said, his voice echoing through the vast room like a death sentence. "And a pathetic liar."
