Chapter 7 - The Wrong Glass
Richard was conscious.
Barely.
His face was pale, and sweat shone along his forehead as two guests loosened his collar.
Dr. Hart dropped beside him.
“Give him room.”
Vivian stood five feet away.
For the first time all night, she looked truly terrified.
Not sad.
Not shocked.
Terrified.
I saw the glass on the floor.
Then I saw the table.
Two flutes.
One missing.
A terrible possibility clicked into place.
“Ethan,” I whispered.
He followed my stare.
“What?”
I pointed at Richard.
“That might have been my glass.”
Vivian heard me.
Her head snapped toward us.
“No.”
One word.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
Ethan looked at her.
“Mom?”
Vivian stepped forward. “Richard picked up a random drink. People do that at weddings.”
I crouched near the table, careful not to touch anything.
A faint lipstick print marked one flute.
The other had no print.
Mine had never touched my mouth.
Richard coughed and tried to sit up.
Dr. Hart stopped him.
“Stay down.”
Vivian said, “Call an ambulance.”
“It’s already coming,” Rachel replied.
Richard’s eyes opened.
He looked at Vivian.
Not lovingly.
Not confused.
Accusingly.
“You,” he breathed.
Vivian went still.
Ethan knelt beside his father. “Dad?”
Richard’s hand shook as he reached for Ethan’s sleeve.
“She changed it.”
Vivian’s face drained.
“What are you talking about?”
Richard swallowed hard.
“The glass.”
Every nearby guest had gone silent.
Phones started rising.
Vivian noticed.
Her old composure returned like armor.
“Richard is confused.”
I stared at her.
The same word from the medical certification.
Confused.
Dr. Hart said, “He may be experiencing a reaction. Everyone needs to step back.”
I moved closer to Richard.
“Did you take my champagne?”
His eyes found mine.
He nodded once.
Ethan looked up at his mother.
Something in him broke.
“Mom, what did you put in that glass?”
Gasps moved through the tables.
Vivian’s mouth opened.
Then Richard convulsed once and lost consciousness.
Chaos exploded.
Paramedics rushed through the ballroom doors.
Guests backed away.
A phone camera flashed in my face.
And in the middle of all of it, Vivian turned toward me and whispered:
“You have no idea what you just destroyed.”
I looked at the woman who had tried to make me drink from that glass.
May you like
“No,” I said. “But I think you’re about to tell me.”
Then two police officers walked into the ballroom.
