Chapter 3 - Poisoned Wine and Broken Vows
"The Heir Was Never Meant to Survive""Put the gun down!" Eleanor demanded, though her hands trembled. "If you are my real daughter, child, why are you doing this?"
Lily let out a dark, mocking laugh that sent chills down Victoria’s spine. She tossed a thick manila folder onto the coffee table between them.
"Read it," Lily commanded. "Page fourteen."
Victoria lunged for the folder first, opening it with frantic fingers. As her eyes scanned the medical records and financial statements, her blood ran cold.
"This... this is impossible," Victoria whispered.
"What is it?" Eleanor demanded, snatching the papers from Victoria.
"It’s the medical log from the night the real Vance baby was supposedly kidnapped," Lily explained, stepping closer, the gun unwavering. "Twenty years ago, Eleanor Vance, you didn't just give birth to one girl. You had twins. But the Vance empire needed a single heir to satisfy the grandfather’s misogynistic will, which stated the fortune would be split if there were multiple daughters, diluting the family vote."
Eleanor’s face drained of all color. "No... my husband told me..."
"Your husband and his mistress—who happens to be Victoria’s actual mother—sold me to an underground orphanage," Lily said, her eyes flashing with decades of suppressed rage. "They kept Victoria to raise as the puppet heir, and threw me into the gutter. But they made one mistake."
"What mistake?" Julian’s voice suddenly rang out. He stepped out from behind the velvet curtains, holding a velvet box in his hand.
Victoria stared at her fiancé in horror. "Julian? What are you doing back here?"
"I never left," Julian said calmly, opening the box to reveal a glowing flash drive. "And I’ve been working with Lily for three years."
Victoria gasped, taking two steps back. "You... you used me? The engagement... the contract... it was all a trap?"
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"You were never the bride, Victoria," Julian said, his voice dropping to a cruel whisper. "You were just the bait."
CHAPTER 3 HOOK: Suddenly, Eleanor let out a strangled gasp, clutching her throat. Her lips began turning blue as she collapsed onto the velvet rug. The red wine she had sipped earlier was laced with slow-acting cyanide.
