Chapter 4 - The Poisoned Tea
The following afternoon, Lady Beatrice Cross arrived at the estate without warning. She was accompanied by two men dressed in crisp gray suits carrying leather briefcases—lawyers from the family’s old-money firm, Sterling & Cross Legal.
Julian met them in the formal drawing room.
Beatrice sat imperiously on the velvet sofa, her hands resting on her gold-headed cane. "Julian, we need to sign the power of attorney papers for Noah today."
Julian stopped mid-stride. "Power of attorney? What are you talking about, Mother?"
"After what Richard told me yesterday," Beatrice said coldly, waving a hand toward her lawyers, "it is abundantly clear that Noah’s mental state has degraded into complete instability. Calling a common maid 'Mommy'? Screaming at your brother? The boy is insane, Julian. Under the terms of your father's trust fund, if the primary heir is certified mentally incompetent before his eighth birthday, his share of the Cross Global stock reverts to the family board—which means Richard and me."
Julian let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh. "So that's what this is about. Father’s thirty-percent stock stake. You think I’m going to declare my seven-year-old son incompetent so you and Richard can sell his shares to Victoria’s father?"
"It is for the good of the family!" Beatrice snapped, her eyes narrowing into slits. "You are being blinded by grief, Julian! You’ve been single for five years, running yourself into the ground, letting this child rot in this mansion! Once you marry Victoria next month, you can have new, healthy children! Let us handle Noah. We have already reserved a private room for him at the Sankt Moritz Clinic in Zurich."
"Get out," Julian said, his voice laced with venom.
"Julian—"
"If those lawyers don't leave my house in five seconds," Julian said, reaching into his suit jacket for his phone, "I will trigger the estate’s security lockdown and have them arrested for trespassing. Try me, Mother."
Beatrice stood up, her jaw set in a hard, cruel line. "You are making a dangerous mistake, my son. That boy will be the ruin of this family. And that maid... she will be the death of you."
While the confrontation raged in the drawing room, Elena was upstairs in the kitchen annex, preparing a tray of warm chamomile tea for Noah.
She moved with practice and grace, but her hands were shaking. She poured the tea into a small ceramic mug—Noah’s favorite blue one.
As she turned to pick up a small bowl of honey, a hand suddenly reached out from the pantry shadows and grabbed her wrist with iron force.
Elena gasped, almost dropping the kettle.
Victoria Sterling stepped out of the shadows, her eyes gleaming with cold malice.
"Listen to me, you little gutter rat," Victoria hissed, leaning in so close Elena could smell her sickly-sweet designer perfume. "I know what you're trying to do. You think if you play the sweet, gentle nanny, Julian will look at you with those sad puppy eyes? You think you can hustle your way into a billionaire's bed?"
Elena didn't pull away. She stared back at Victoria, her eyes steady, her breathing controlled. "I am here to clean, Miss Sterling. And to make sure Noah is safe."
"Noah doesn't need you!" Victoria snarled, tightening her grip until Elena’s skin bruised. "Noah is a broken, worthless little lunatic who belongs in an asylum! Next month, when I marry Julian, the very first thing I am going to do is pack that silent little freak onto a plane to Switzerland, and I am going to throw you into the street without a penny!"
Victoria released Elena’s wrist with a rough shove. Then, with a sly, evil smile, Victoria reached into her purse, pulled out a small glass vial filled with a clear liquid, and held it over Noah’s mug of tea.
"What are you doing?" Elena cried out, reaching forward to stop her.
"Just a little sedative, dear," Victoria sneered, letting three clear drops fall into the warm tea. "The child is too loud lately. He needs a nice, long sleep. If he has an 'episode' tonight, Julian will finally realize he’s beyond help and sign the papers."
Victoria tucked the vial back into her purse, patted Elena’s cheek with a mocking slap, and walked out of the kitchen, her high heels clicking loudly against the tile.
Elena stood alone in the kitchen, looking down at the poisoned mug of tea.
May you like
Her chest heaved. Her hands trembled violently. She looked toward the hallway that led to Noah’s room.
Slowly, deliberately, Elena took the mug of tea, turned to the sink, and poured every single drop down the drain.
