“Mary gave it to me,” Clara said softly, her hand shaking as she reached for her water glass.
“You’ve become very important to this family,” Frank continued, cutting his steak. “Luke won’t do anything without you. It’s quite remarkable, really.”
There was something hidden in his tone—not quite hostility, but not friendliness either. Like a snake deciding when to strike. “She’s my friend,” Luke said firmly, taking Clara’s hand under the table. “She’s staying forever.”
“Is that right, Clara?” “We’ll see, sweetheart,” Clara murmured. Victor watched the exchange, his eyes moving from Clara to Frank. He’d been silent all evening, barely eating, just observing.
Mary tried to keep the conversation light. “Luke, tell everyone what you did in art therapy today.” As Luke launched into an enthusiastic story about painting, Clara’s pulse raced.
She had proof now, not just suspicions. The pharmacy logs, the texts, Frank’s behavior. But accusing Victor’s oldest friend at a family dinner seemed insane. Yet, waiting was even crazier.
How many more chances would Luke get? Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Another text. “Shut up and eat.
Last warning.” Clara looked up sharply. Everyone at the table had their phones in plain sight, except Frank, whose phone was face down next to his plate.
Her heart hammered. It was now or never. “Mr. Roman,” Clara said, interrupting Luke’s story.
“I need to tell you something about Luke’s medication.” A heavy silence fell over the table. Victor set his fork down.
“What is it?” “I checked with the hospital pharmacy. The asthma medication that poisoned Luke three days ago… it was picked up personally by Frank.” Frank’s smile didn’t flicker.
“Of course I picked it up. I always pick up Luke’s prescriptions, you know that, Victor.” “But the medication was tampered with,” Clara insisted.
“Between the pharmacy and Luke’s room, someone added poison. And you’re the only one who handled that bottle.” “That’s a serious accusation,” Frank said calmly.
But his knuckles were white around his knife. Tony leaned forward. “Clara, are you saying someone in this house tried to kill Luke twice, and both times Frank was the one in charge of the meds?” Clara pulled out her phone with trembling hands.
“I’ve also been getting threats, telling me to stop asking questions and leave, or I’d be killed.” She slid the phone across the table to Victor. He read the messages, his face darkening with every word.
“Anyone could have sent those,” Frank said. “This is ridiculous, Victor. She’s paranoid.”
“The last one came five minutes ago,” Clara interrupted. “During dinner. Everyone’s phone was on the table except yours, Frank.
Yours is face down.” Frank’s smile finally cracked. “So what?” “I put my phone away out of politeness.”
“Then you won’t mind showing us your sent messages?” Victor asked quietly. It wasn’t a question.
The silence was deafening. Frank clenched his jaw. “Victor, you can’t be serious.
Your phone. Now.” For a long moment, Frank didn’t move. Then, something shifted in his face.
The mask slipped, revealing a cold, calculating edge. “You want the truth?” Frank stood up slowly, pushing his chair back. “Fine.
Yes. I was trying to protect you from this woman. She’s playing you, Victor.
She poisoned your son and then played the hero. It’s a classic long con.” “That’s a lie,” Clara stood up too.
“You picked up the meds. I received the meds already poisoned.” Frank’s voice rose.
“Someone got to them before me, and I was trying to find out who, but then you conveniently show up,” he pointed at Clara. “You know exactly what poison was used. You worm your way into this family, and suddenly Victor is so grateful he can’t see the obvious.”
“Frank.” Victor’s voice was ice. “Sit down.”
“No.” Frank’s hand moved toward his blazer. “I’ve backed you for twenty years.
I’ve handled the dirty work for you. I’ve bled for this company. And you’re going to believe a homeless junkie over me? Over everything we built?” Tony’s hand moved toward his holster.
The guards at the door stepped forward. “Don’t do it,” Frank warned. His hand was already inside his jacket.
Everyone froze. Mary grabbed Luke and pulled him close. The boy’s eyes were wide with terror.
“You tried to kill my son,” Victor said, standing up slowly. “Why?” Frank laughed bitterly. “Because he’s weak.
Because you’re raising him to be soft. This company needs strength, Victor. Not a nine-year-old boy who cries at the sight of blood.”
He pulled a pistol, but didn’t aim it yet. “It was supposed to look natural. A tragedy.
Then I would have rebuilt you, made you the leader you used to be. But she…” He looked at Clara with pure hatred. “She ruined everything.”
“You’re insane,” Mary whispered. “I’m practical.” Frank’s eyes were feverish.
Twenty years of resentment poured out. “The Sterling Group offered me a partnership. Half your territory.
All I had to do was weaken you, make you vulnerable, kill the boy, break your will. But you wouldn’t even let me bury him properly.” Victor’s face was unreadable, but his hands were shaking with suppressed rage…
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