Chapter 12 - Venom in the Cradle – The Traitor in White
The private jet touched down in Monte Carlo under a blanket of fog, but back at the primary Vance manor, security had been elevated to maximum lockdown. Baby Alexander was under twenty-four-hour guard in a reinforced medical sanctuary monitored by Arthur’s most trusted elite team.
Inside the nursery, Dr. Aris Thorne—a distant cousin of Marcus and a renowned pediatric specialist—stepped up to the child's crib, holding a small silver syringe. The label read Pediatric Vitamin Complex, but beneath the fluorescent lights, his hands trembled slightly.
“Just a quick preventive dose, little prince,” Aris muttered, his eyes darting toward the security camera in the corner of the ceiling.
He moved the needle toward the baby’s arm.
“I wouldn't let that needle touch my son if I were you, Aris.”
Dr. Aris froze, his heart pounding against his ribs. He turned slowly to see Khloe standing in the doorway, shadow framing her elegant frame. She hadn't boarded the jet to Monaco at all; Marcus had flown ahead as a decoy while Khloe remained behind, watching every movement inside her home.
Beside her, four heavily armed Vance tactical operators raised their weapons, their red laser sights dotting Aris’s white coat.
“Khloe!” Aris stammered, dropping the syringe. It shattered against the hardwood floor, leaking a clear liquid that began to corrode the wax polish on contact. “I… I was just administering his routine vitamins!”
“That isn't a vitamin, Aris,” Khloe said coldly, stepping into the room and standing between her child and the doctor. “It’s a synthetic cardiac paralyzer. Aegis paid off your offshore gambling debts in Macau three nights ago. Two million dollars to murder my child while Marcus and I were supposed to be out of the country.”
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Aris fell to his knees, tears of terror streaming down his face. “They threatened my daughter, Khloe! They said they would kill her if I didn't do it!”
“You chose to trade my son's life for your daughter's debt,” Khloe said, her voice completely devoid of pity. “Arthur, trace his accounts back to the paymaster. And lock Aris in the subterranean holdings until the federal agents arrive. No one touches my child and breathes the same air.”
