Chapter 8 - THE CHEF WHO SERVED DEATH
Everett Pryce had worked for the Calder family for fifteen years.
He'd taught me how to temper chocolate.
How to repair a broken custard.
How to turn a failed recipe into something beautiful.
He'd also stood beside me when Aaron Pike collapsed and insisted the poisoned sauce was mine.
Now Sophie was telling me he'd helped Nathan.
I looked toward the kitchen.
Everett was standing near the cold storage room.
Watching me.
"Where are you?" I whispered into the phone.
Sophie was crying.
"Don't trust him."
Then the call disconnected.
I slipped my phone into my pocket.
Everett approached.
"Everything all right, Lena?"
I forced a smile.
"Fine."
He studied my face.
"You look pale."
"Long day."
He glanced toward my phone.
"Who were you talking to?"
"My aunt."
His eyes narrowed.
"I didn't know you had an aunt."
I shrugged.
"Most people don't know everything about me."
Something dangerous flickered across his face.
Before he could respond, Vincent entered.
"Everett."
The chef turned.
"Sir?"
"Come to my study."
Everett hesitated.
"Is something wrong?"
Vincent's expression was unreadable.
"We need to discuss the dinner service."
I watched Everett's jaw tighten.
Then he followed Vincent out.
Ten minutes later, investigators arrived with a court-authorized search warrant.
They examined the kitchen, storage areas, and office records.
A sealed container recovered from Everett's locked cabinet was sent for laboratory analysis.
So were several sauce samples and utensils from the poisoned dinner.
Everett denied wrongdoing.
Nathan remained missing.
And Sophie was still gone.
Hours passed.
Then Dr. Reed called with Aaron's laboratory results.
The substance found in his blood was consistent with a poisonous plant-derived compound.
It hadn't been part of the approved kitchen inventory.
The evidence suggested deliberate contamination.
I sat beside Vincent in his study as the doctor explained.
Aaron was expected to recover, but he remained weak.
I covered my mouth.
"If he'd eaten more..."
Dr. Reed nodded solemnly.
"It could have been fatal."
Vincent looked toward the window.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then he turned toward me.
"You saved my life."
I shook my head.
"I tried."
"You also saved Aaron by recognizing the danger quickly enough for treatment."
Tears filled my eyes.
"I nearly got him killed."
"No."
His voice was firm.
"The person who contaminated the food is responsible."
I looked up.
He stepped closer.
"Lena, you've spent your entire life carrying blame that belongs to someone else."
The words struck harder than I expected.
My mother.
Her ruined career.
The accusations.
The years of shame.
I looked away.
Vincent gently touched my shoulder.
"You don't have to carry it anymore."
For one fragile moment, I believed him.
Then his phone rang.
An investigator had found a transfer record.
Nathan had moved money into Everett's account three days before the dinner.
But there was another payment.
A much larger one.
Sent to an account registered under a name I recognized.
Margaret Brooks.
May you like
My mother.
The account had been active for years after her death.
