Chapter 2
Clara’s fingers trembled violently as she reached into the deep pocket of her black apron, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. The physical pain from Elena’s tight grip radiated up her forearm, but her primary focus was not on her body. It was on the device she now held like a lifeline. She pulled out her smartphone, the screen illuminating her tear-streaked face with a harsh, cold glow. Without a word of explanation, she slid the phone across the pristine white tablecloth toward Julian, stopping it gently against the base of his untouched martini glass.
Julian looked down at the screen. The display was not playing a game or showing a social media notification; it was running a live security feed retrieved directly from the restaurant’s private intranet server. The camera angle overlooked the entire service station tucked behind the main pillar, a blind spot that patrons were never supposed to see. Julian leaned forward, his polished grey cuffs resting on the edge of the table, his analytical mind engaging instantly.
“Look at this,” Clara whispered, her voice cracking with suppressed emotion as she pointed a trembling finger at the glowing display.
On the tiny screen, a figure in a familiar sparkly silver dress was caught red-handed. The video showed Elena standing quietly by the service bar while the bartender was momentarily distracted by an incoming order. With practiced, venomous ease, Elena reached into a small velvet pouch hidden inside her designer handbag, pulled out a tiny glass vial, and extracted a single, innocuous-looking green olive. With a swift twist of her fingers, she injected a clear, viscous liquid directly into the fruit before dropping it back into the bowl destined for Julian’s table.
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Julian’s eyes locked onto the screen, reading the timestamp down to the exact second. The color drained slightly from his face, though his exterior remained eerily composed. The martini glass sitting inches from his right hand suddenly transformed from a simple evening aperitif into a loaded weapon. He glanced from the digital footage back to the actual glass, noting the two green olives floating quietly in the clear gin and vermouth mixture. One of them carried a death sentence.
The silence between Julian and Clara stretched, thick and suffocating. Clara wiped her cheek with the back of her sore arm, her eyes searching Julian’s expression for panic, disbelief, or anger. Instead, she found a chilling, calculating stillness that confirmed her worst fears. Julian Sterling was not a man easily rattled, but he now understood that someone in his inner circle had just tried to end his life.
