Chapter 2: The Glass That Changed Everything
Chapter 2: The Glass That Changed Everything
“Wait.”
My father's voice cracked through the music just as Madison lifted the champagne flute toward her lips.
Every conversation around us seemed to fade.
Madison paused, laughing nervously.
“What?” she asked. “Dad, it's just champagne.”
Richard crossed the room far too quickly for a man who had been pretending not to pay attention only seconds before.
His eyes weren't on Madison.
They were locked on the glass.
“No,” he said, forcing a smile. “That one... that's Natalie's. I had it prepared especially for her.”
Prepared.
The word landed like a stone in my stomach.
Everyone nearby chuckled, assuming he meant he'd chosen an expensive bottle for his graduating daughter.
Only I knew what I'd seen.
Only I noticed the tiny bead of sweat forming on his forehead.
I smiled as naturally as I could.
"It's okay, Dad," I said. "Madison and I share everything."
His expression tightened.
"I'll get her another one."
He reached for the glass.
Before he could touch it, my mother, Elaine, walked over carrying a tray of appetizers.
"Richard," she laughed, "since when are you so protective over champagne?"
A few relatives laughed with her.
He didn't.
"I just..." he stammered. "I wanted Natalie to have that specific glass."
Madison looked between us.
"Seriously? It's champagne."
She shrugged and lifted it again.
My father's face went completely white.
"Madison, DON'T!"
The room fell silent.
Even the band stopped playing.
Madison froze with the rim only inches from her mouth.
Every eye turned toward my father.
He realized what he'd just done.
Slowly, he forced another smile.
"I mean... it's stronger than the others," he said awkwardly. "I don't want you drinking something too strong."
One of my uncles laughed.
"It's champagne, Richard, not jet fuel."
More awkward laughter spread through the crowd.
But nobody missed how strangely he was acting.
I carefully lowered my own untouched hand.
"Dad," I asked softly, "why are you so worried about that particular glass?"
His eyes met mine.
For just a second.
There was fear.
Real fear.
Then it disappeared behind the confident mask I'd known my entire life.
"You're imagining things."
Was I?
No.
Because as everyone returned to talking, I noticed something else.
His gaze never left that flute.
Not for a single second.
Madison finally shrugged.
"If it matters that much, Natalie can have it."
She handed the glass back toward me.
I accepted it with a smile.
But instead of drinking, I raised it into the air.
"A toast!"
Everyone cheered.
"To family," I said loudly.
Glasses lifted throughout the ballroom.
I held mine close to my lips...
...but never took a sip.
Instead, while everyone else drank, I pretended to swallow before lowering the glass.
No one noticed.
Except my father.
Relief washed across his face.
He actually believed I'd drunk it.
That reaction told me everything.
Whatever had happened to that champagne...
...he expected it to affect me.
Within minutes he began watching me again.
Waiting.
I could almost see him counting the seconds.
Thirty.
Forty-five.
One minute.
Nothing happened.
I smiled, laughed with friends, and thanked my professors for attending.
His confidence slowly turned into confusion.
Then frustration.
He disappeared from the ballroom.
I waited exactly ten seconds before quietly following him.
He walked quickly through the back hallway toward his private office—the one room in the estate nobody was allowed to enter.
The door didn't close completely.
Through the narrow opening, I heard him speaking on the phone.
"It didn't work."
Silence.
"No... she drank it."
Another pause.
"I watched her."
His voice grew tense.
"I don't understand."
A cold chill ran down my spine.
Someone answered on the other end.
Richard lowered his voice.
"Maybe the dosage wasn't enough."
Dosage.
My knees nearly gave out beneath me.
This wasn't imagination.
This wasn't paranoia.
Someone had put something in my champagne.
And my father believed I had already consumed it.
Then he spoke the sentence that shattered everything I thought I knew about my family.
"If Natalie stays healthy long enough to sign those documents tomorrow... everything changes."
I stopped breathing.
What documents?
Before I could hear more, a floorboard beneath my foot creaked.
Richard turned sharply toward the door.
May you like
"Who's there?" he shouted.
I ran.
