Chapter 5 - The Trap is SprungI didn't panic. Foster care teaches you one invaluable survival skill: when the house is burning down around you, you don't scream—you find the exit or grab the bucket.
I poured the contents of the silver chalice into a sealed glass vial, tucking it deep into the pocket of my apron. Then, I prepared a fresh, untainted glass of orange juice and placed it on a silver tray alongside Grant’s morning espresso.
"Finish your breakfast, kids," I told Lily and Noah, keeping my voice light and cheerful. "I have to deliver Mr. Calloway’s breakfast to his study."
As I climbed the grand staircase toward the third floor, every muscle in my body was coiled tight. The entire mansion felt like a loaded spring ready to snap.
When I reached the heavy oak doors of the third-floor study, I knocked twice.
"Come in."
Grant was sitting behind his massive mahogany desk, reviewing blueprints for a downtown skyscraper development. He looked up as I entered, his gray eyes immediately scanning my face, searching for signs of distress.
"Nora. What is it?"
I set the tray down on the corner of his desk and pulled the sealed glass vial from my apron pocket, setting it right beside his laptop.
Grant’s gaze dropped to the vial. The color drained from his face, replaced by an expression so dark and feral it made my breath hitch.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"From the kitchen counter ten minutes ago," I replied evenly. "Vivian poured it into your morning tonic while telling me that people who poke their noses into things that don't belong to them end up choking on their ambition."
Grant slowly reached out, picking up the vial. He held it up to the desk lamp, watching the pale liquid swirl inside the glass.
"She’s impatient," Grant muttered, a dangerous, razor-sharp smile touching the corners of his lips. "She thought she had another year before the company restructuring was finalized. The board meeting is tomorrow morning. If I died tonight, she would control voting shares for both children as their legal stepmother."
"She’s planning to frame someone else for it, probably me or the head housekeeper," I added, stepping closer. "What do we do?"
Grant looked up, locking his eyes onto mine. There was no hesitation left in him. The billionaire tycoon who ruled Chicago’s underworld was finally ready to strike.
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"We don't stop her, Nora," Grant said softly. "We let her walk right into the trap she built for herself."
To be continued in Chapter 6 through 10...
