The Poisoned Feast

"Vivian, it's been a pleasure working with you, but let's wrap it up here for today," I said softly, gathering my belongings before heading out. "What's your personal contact number? I'll reach out directly if our plans require any adjustments."

Setting up the alliance was a victory, but the drive back brought reality crashing down.

Inside Drake's luxury van, a thick silence settled over us. A tight knot twisted in my stomach. Facing those people again was never going to be easy, but I kept repeating the same promise to myself: This is the last time. One final performance as the dutiful daughter.

As the vehicle turned into the massive gates of the Mendez estate, Drake's hand tightened around mine. Reaching over, he offered a reassuring squeeze before slipping a sleek, cold object into my coat pocket.

"You might need this," Drake murmured, his deep voice cutting through my anxiety. "You'll be fine. I promise."

I looked at the discreet recording device, then met his eyes. "Thanks, Drake. Having you here... it gives me the courage I need."

He hesitated, his gaze scanning my face with deep concern. "Let me come in with you. You don't have to walk into that den alone."

"No, Drake. I need to do this by myself," I insisted softly, holding his gaze with absolute resolve. "I need them to believe I'm still the same gullible fool they can walk all over. It makes the final blow that much sweeter."

Drake exhaled slowly, clearly hating the idea, but he nodded in respect of my choice. "Fine. But my driver stays right outside. And remember—don't let them spot that recorder."

I took a deep, steadying breath, stepped out of the vehicle, and walked straight into the snake's den.

The moment I entered the grand dining room, it felt like stepping into a royal banquet. Every piece of classic, high-end decor oozed arrogance—all bought and paid for using my late mother's hard-earned money.

How blind I used to be. I had once believed Valerie was simply a refined, noble woman who appreciated the finer things in life. Now, looking at her, all I saw was a parasitic hypocrite.

None of them even poured a glance my way when I walked in, completely absorbed in their cozy, perfect-family dynamic. To break up the sickening display, I offered a soft, dry cough.

"Why are you only arriving now?!" David's furious voice boomed across the room as he snapped his head toward me, pointing an angry finger straight at my face. "You're late, Aurelia! What the hell is wrong with you lately? Are you intentionally trying to defy me?!"

I swallowed down the intense urge to break his finger. His voice alone made my skin crawl. Forcing my posture to slump, I slipped seamlessly back into my meek, pathetic persona.

"I'm sorry, Dad..." I muttered, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. "I just... I got carried away seeing Uncle Elias again and completely lost track of time."

"Don't look at me with that pathetic face!" David barked, putting on a grand, tyrannical display of patriarchal authority. "I won't tolerate this behavior again, Aurelia. One more mistake, and you'll be cut off from the Mercers permanently. Is that clear?"

My hands trembled in my pockets, every muscle in my body screaming at me to drop the act and tear his world down right there. Hold it together, Aurelia. Just a little longer. Let him play the mighty ruler for a few more minutes.

"Yes, Dad," I whispered obediently. "It won't happen again."

And it really won't, I added silently. Because you won't have a family left to rule after tonight.

"Oh, come on, honey, relax," Valerie chimed in, her voice dripping with fake motherly concern as she patted David's arm. "We're here for a lovely family dinner, not to fight."

She then turned her attention to me, offering a wide, artificial smile. "Aurelia, dear, sit down. Don't mind your father; he was just worried about you. Just promise us you won't be so stubborn anymore, alright?"

I nearly choked on my own disgust. Decked out in layered diamond necklaces and heavy gold bracelets, Valerie looked less like a noble lady and more like an overpriced Christmas tree. How she didn't collapse under the weight of all that stolen jewelry—and that fake smile—really was disgusting.

"Thank you, Aunt Valerie," I replied, taking a seat with a submissive nod. "I promise I won't be stubborn anymore. I'm sorry for worrying you, Dad."

"That's more like it, sis," Chloe interjected smoothly, leaning back in her chair with a smug, self-satisfied grin. "We have a reputation to maintain, especially with my Paris art exhibition coming up. I'd hate for you to embarrass our family even more than you already have."

She truly believed she was the undisputed queen of the art world. Mother like daughter—two delusional narcissists sharing the same podium.

"Don't worry, Chloe," I said softly, playing the useless, incompetent sister to perfection. "I won't cause any trouble for you."

Enjoy your high horse while it lasts, Chloe. The drop is going to be brutal.

"Alright, enough small talk. Let's get down to business," David interrupted, slamming his palm lightly on the table as his gaze hardened. "So, Aurelia... where were you and those outsiders running around with earlier? You're completely out of line lately! Running off, acting irresponsible—is this how an unfilial daughter behaves?!"

"We just went back to the old Mercer mansion, Dad," I explained hurriedly, letting my voice quiver with panicked defense. "We were just looking through old photos and family memories."

"Oh, Dad, you know how sister is," Chloe sneered, waving a dismissive hand. "Always clinging to the past. Honestly, Aurelia, after the scene you made at breakfast, I thought you actually grew a spine. But look at you—still the same nobody. Don't get offended, okay? I'm just genuinely concerned. Throwing tantrums like you're possessed really doesn't suit you. You should just stick to being yourself."

Before I could even pretend to apologize, Chloe leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with malicious pride. "Oh, by the way... did I mention my art exhibition in Paris is scheduled for next month? Surprising, right? I guess some people are just born with natural talent. Oops, sorry, I didn't mean to rub my success in your face, sis!"

I swallowed a laugh. Born with natural talent? You mean born with a talent for stealing my mother's work.

"I'm not mad at all," I said softly, squeezing out a couple of fake, emotional tears. "I'm... I'm really happy for you, Chloe. Congratulations."

They shared a boastful laugh around the table, celebrating their stolen glory. Finally, David set his wine glass down with a heavy clack, abandoning all pretense of family warmth. He reached into his coat, pulled out a thick legal document, and slid it harshly across the table toward me.

"Fine. You refused to sign over your mother's primary estate legacy earlier, and I let it slide," David said, his tone turning predatory. "But you will sign this. It's for your sister's career. You've always claimed to care about Chloe and this family, right? Prove it, Aurelia."

Emotional blackmail—his absolute favorite tool. The old Aurelia would have wept and signed it out of a desperate need for his approval. I picked up the paper and began skim-reading the terms. It was sickeningly aggressive. The contract effectively transferred full legal rights of my mother's private, unreleased art archives and liquid reserves directly into Chloe's name under the guise of "exhibition funding."

I paused, allowing my fingers to tremble slightly over the signature line, pretending to hesitate just long enough to test his patience.

"What's the problem?!" David snapped instantly, his dark eyes flaring with anger. "Are you backing out?! After everything this family has done for you?!"

"Aurelia, please, think of your sister," Valerie whined, wiping away invisible tears. "Think of all the years we've spent together as a family!"

"Sis, I know it's hard to part with Mom's things," Chloe added, putting on her sweetest, most innocent expression. "But I really need this for my career. Please... do it for me?"

Looking at the three of them putting on such a desperate, pathetic show was almost entertaining. It was time to pull the plug.

I looked up, opening my eyes wide with innocent shock and utter confusion. "Wait... Father, didn't Uncle Elias tell you?"

David frowned, his brow furrowing. "Tell me what?!"

"Mother's primary art archives can't be transferred," I said innocently, tilting my head. "They're currently locked under a strict, international legal audit by the Mercer Clan's estate attorneys."

The room went dead silent.

Chloe's fake, sweet smile instantly froze. The color drained from her face in a matter of seconds. She knew better than anyone that if the Mercer estate audited those locked archives, they would find the original, unreleased masterpieces—the exact carbon copies of the "new" collection she was preparing to unveil in Paris.

"No... No! That's impossible!" Chloe shrieked, slamming her hands onto the table as sheer panic shattered her innocent mask. "Why would they do something so stupid?! Aurelia, tell them to stop! Tell them to stay away from those archives right now!"

"Silence!" David roared, completely losing his temper. In a violent fit of rage, he backhanded his wine glass off the table, sending it shattering across the floor. He grabbed a heavy silver spoon and hurled it straight at my head.

It whistled past my cheek, missing me by inches and clattering against the wall behind me.

David surged up from his chair, his face contorted with fury as he stepped around the table, raising his hand to strike me.

BANG! BANG!

A series of heavy, authoritative knocks echoed through the grand foyer, freezing David in his tracks. Before the butler could even reach the grand entrance, the heavy double doors swung open.

Standing in the doorway was Drake Monteverde. Dressed in an immaculate, tailored charcoal suit, his imposing presence dominated the room. In his gloved hand, he held an official, red-sealed legal summons from the Mercer Clan.

A dangerous, icy smile touched Drake's lips as his dark eyes locked onto David.

"Step away from her," Drake commanded softly, his voice echoing through the mansion like a death sentence.