Chapter 4
The restaurant manager, a tall man in a tailored black suit named Mr. Harrison, finally noticed the lingering tension at Table Four and began walking over with a practiced, apologetic smile. Julian anticipated the interruption before Harrison took his third step. Without breaking eye contact with Clara, Julian raised his left hand slightly, signaling the manager to halt. Harrison stopped immediately, reading the subtle body language of his most lucrative regular client, and wisely retreated toward the host stand.
“Listen to me carefully, Clara,” Julian said, leaning slightly across the table so his voice would not carry to neighboring diners. “Are you willing to see this through, or do you want to clock out right now, take hazard pay, and pretend you never saw that video?”
Clara looked down at her bruised arm, then back at Julian’s face. The fear in her eyes was rapidly crystallizing into a fierce, quiet resolve. She had spent the last two years watching powerful people step over hardworking individuals without a second thought. Elena Vance represented every broken promise and arrogant abuse of power Clara despised.
“I’m not clocking out,” Clara said firmly, her voice steadying. “She hurt me, and she tried to poison you. I want to see justice, Mr. Sterling. What’s your play?”
Julian gave a single, approving nod. “We play her game. You are going to clear this table, but you are going to take the martini glass with you. Wrap it in a linen napkin, place it in an airtight bus tub, and store it in the manager’s private safe downstairs. Meanwhile, I am going to order a fresh drink and text Elena to let her know I am enjoying my evening.”
Clara’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re going to text her? After she tried to kill you?”
“Especially after she tried to kill you,” Julian corrected, a dangerous glint entering his grey eyes. “Elena is arrogant. When a narcissist executes a plan, they need to witness the aftermath to feel the rush of control. If I don’t leave this restaurant alive—or at least appearing incapacitated—she will panic and destroy her phone, her hard drives, and any paper trail linking her to the chemist who manufactured that poison.”
“And if she realizes we switched the glass?” Clara asked, her breath hitching.
May you like
“She won’t,” Julian said with absolute confidence. “Because you are going to help me execute the transition without a soul noticing.”
Working with synchronized precision, Clara cleared the appetizer plates and swept the dangerous martini glass off the table, enveloping it in a thick white linen napkin with practiced restaurant grace. Julian watched her every move, realizing that beneath the white shirt and bow tie lay the mind of a tactical survivor. The trap was set, but as Julian drafted the message to his would-be assassin, he knew the real danger was only just beginning.
