Chapter 2 - The Interrogation in the Dark
Mara stepped into the small office, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Ava’s eyes closed again as the doctor administered an intravenous line, her breathing steadying into a deep, medicated slumber. Dante stood up slowly, towering over Mara as he walked toward her. The warmth of the father vanished, replaced instantly by the cold, calculating focus of the man who ran half the city.
"You said someone switched the glass," Dante began, his voice a low, gravelly hum that demanded absolute truth. "Explain."
"I serve that table all evening, Mr. Moretti," Mara said, forcing her voice to remain steady. "I brought out the pitcher of fresh lemonade at 8:45. I poured four glasses. Ava’s glass had a pink-and-white striped straw because she asked for it specifically when she ordered. I noticed it because she smiled so big when I promised I wouldn't forget."
"Go on," Dante said, his gray eyes narrowing.
"When the commotion happened, I looked at the glass on the floor. The straw was plain white. The napkin underneath was folded with the crease facing left instead of right. And the condensation pattern on the outside of the tumbler didn't match the temperature of the room—it looked like it had been sitting out somewhere else, or filled from a different container entirely."
Lorenzo Vale stepped into the office, adjusting his cuffs. "An impressive amount of detail for a waitress during a crisis."
"I notice things," Mara shot back, her defensive instincts finally overriding her fear. "When you live on tips, you notice when people are unhappy, when they want a refill before they ask, and when things have been tampered with. If I wanted to poison a child, would I use the glass with my own signature straw and then leave it sitting right where everyone could see it? That makes zero sense."
Silence filled the room. Lorenzo opened his mouth to argue, but Dante raised a single hand, silencing his attorney.
"She’s right," Dante said flatly. "A professional assassin wouldn't leave a poisoned glass on the table in plain view of the waitstaff. This wasn't an execution. This was a message."
"A message from whom?" Mercer asked from the doorway.
"From someone inside this building," Dante replied coldly.
He turned his attention back to Mara. "You said you saw everything at that table tonight. Did anyone approach Ava while my back was turned?"
Mara thought back, running the mental tape of the evening through her mind. The laughter, the candles, the rich food, the prominent guests who had rented out the entire private wing of Bellamy House.
"Only one person spent an unusual amount of time near her chair," Mara said slowly.
Dante’s eyes flared. "Who?"
"Mr. Vale’s junior associate," Mara said, looking directly across the room at the older lawyer. "The young man who brought in the extra file folders for you before dinner started, Mr. Vale. Julian Vance."
Lorenzo Vale’s face drained of color. "That is absurd. Julian is my most trusted researcher. He has worked for my firm for three years."
"He was standing right beside Ava’s chair while you were arguing with Mr. Mercer about the shipping contracts," Mara pressed on, the memory crystal clear. "He leaned down, patted her on the head, and said something about her birthday crown. His hand lingered near her glass for at least five seconds."
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Dante didn't wait for Lorenzo to defend him further. He looked at Mercer.
"Find Julian. Bring him to the basement. Now."
