Chapter 4: The Poisoned Toast

Vicky

Philip’s knuckles turned white around the stem of his wine glass. The room went dead quiet except for the soft clink of silverware as the butler set a fresh bottle of red wine on the sideboard.

“A leech?” Jane let out a nervous little laugh. Her voice jumped higher than usual. “Vic, sweetie, what a strange word to use. You’re talking about your own husband and best friend!”

“Did I name any names, Jane?” I asked calmly, resting my chin on my hands. “I’m just talking about the sharks who always circle a woman with a lot of money. But Philip knows I’d never let anyone take advantage of us. Right, darling?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Philip said. He forced a tight, fake grin and wiped his upper lip with his napkin. A thin layer of sweat was already shining at his hairline. “Though I hope you haven’t made any sudden legal decisions without talking to me first. You know how foggy your head gets when you try to handle complicated money matters.”

“My head has never felt clearer, Philip. In fact, my dizzy spells completely disappeared the moment I took charge of my own life.”

I held his eyes without blinking until he looked away first.

The butler stepped forward and poured dark red wine into all three glasses. I caught the tiny shift in Philip’s posture—the way his shoulder tensed and his eyes flicked toward my glass before going back to his plate.

He had put something in it.

Before I came here, or maybe right when the butler opened the bottle. Hearing that I had met with my lawyer had pushed him into a panic, and now he was trying to fog my mind again.

“A toast,” Philip said suddenly, raising his glass with forced charm. “To my beautiful wife. May your health recover quickly, and may our future together be long and happy.”

“To Victoria,” Jane echoed, lifting hers with a bright, shiny smile that made my stomach turn.

I raised my glass, letting the dark wine catch the light from the chandelier.

“To the future,” I said softly. “And to everyone getting exactly what they deserve.”

I brought the glass to my lips and let them see me get ready for a deep sip. Then, with a sudden clumsy gasp, I let my hand wobble hard.

Clatter!

My silk napkin slipped from my lap, brushed against the silverware, and knocked my heavy diamond bracelet against the wooden table with a loud thud.

“Oh! How clumsy of me,” I said, wincing as I bent down to pick up the napkin.

Jane jumped in surprise and looked down. Philip leaned over the table to see what I had dropped.

In that one messy second while both of them were looking away, my hands moved fast. With a quick slide across the polished wood, I switched my untouched glass with Philip’s.

By the time Philip sat back up and wiped his hands, his poisoned glass was sitting right in front of his plate, and his safe glass was in my hand.

“Are you alright, Victoria?” Philip asked. His breath caught a little as his eyes darted to the glass I was now holding.

“Just a bit clumsy today,” I said with a sweet, innocent laugh. I lifted the glass—his original safe one—and took a long, slow swallow. “Mm. Excellent wine.”

Philip stared at my face, waiting for any sign of hesitation or a bitter taste from whatever poison he had put in the other glass. When I swallowed easily and smiled at him, confusion crossed his face.

“Aren’t you going to join me, darling?” I asked, pointing my glass toward the red wine sitting right in front of him. “You proposed the toast, didn’t you?”

Philip looked down at the glass in front of him.

His face went pale.

He didn’t know if I had switched them or if he was just overthinking it. But the pure terror of maybe drinking his own slow poison showed in every twitch of his jaw.

“I… I think I’ll pass on the wine for now,” Philip stammered. His voice had gone hoarse. “My stomach feels a bit uneasy.”

“Uneasy?” I tilted my head and put on a look of deep concern. “Oh, Philip, you look terribly pale. Your forehead is dripping with sweat! Jane, doesn’t he look sick to you?”

Jane looked back and forth between us, completely lost. “Phil… are you okay? You do look a little pale.”

“I’m fine!” Philip snapped, wiping a thick bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He pushed the wine glass several inches away from his plate like it was a snake ready to bite. “Just… tired from work.”

“You really should take better care of yourself, Philip,” I said, leaning closer across the table. My eyes burned into his with cold satisfaction. “After all, you never know when a sudden, terrifying sickness might hit out of nowhere. Life is so fragile, isn’t it?”

Philip swallowed hard. His throat made a dry, painful sound. He looked at me—really looked at me—and for the first time since I woke up in the past, I saw real fear in his eyes.

He didn’t know how much I knew, but he knew the game had changed.

Suddenly my phone vibrated in my lap. I glanced down under the table. A private text from Mr. Harrison had just popped up:

[LAB REPORT COMPLETE: Compound identified as liquid organophosphate neurotoxin. Toxicologist report attached. Call me immediately.]

My smile widened into something sharp and dark.

“If you’ll excuse me, my loves,” I said, dabbing my lips with my napkin as I stood up. My tall frame cast a long shadow over both of them. “I have a few urgent calls to make before tomorrow morning. Enjoy your dinner.”

I turned and walked out of the dining room, leaving Philip sweating through his silk shirt and Jane sitting in shocked, terrified silence.