Chapter 4 - The Poisoned Well
Alice’s new assignment moved her out of the cramped basement quarters into an airy suite in the east wing. Yet the comfort only brought greater danger. The domestic staff, terrified of Victoria’s wrath, shunned her entirely. Auntie Chica would only speak to her in frantic whispers behind the pantry doors.
“You have to run, child,” Auntie Chica pleaded while slipping a sandwich into Alice’s hand. “Madam Victoria was not born into wealth; she married into it, and she will tear this house down before she lets anyone threaten her daughter’s place. She thinks Chief Admila favors you.”
“I’m just doing a job, Auntie. He needed someone to organize his private archives. I can type, and I can catalogue.”
“He is looking at you like a ghost, Alice! Don’t you see it?”
Before Alice could press further, bells chimed for dinner service.
Admila spent long hours in his private wing, frequently requesting Alice to sort through decades of shipping manifests, corporate acquisitions, and personal correspondence dating back to the late nineties. He watched her work with intense scrutiny, asking polite questions about her upbringing, her schooling, and her grandmother’s health. Alice answered cautiously, sensing landmines beneath every pleasantry.
Meanwhile, Annabelle was busy orchestrating retaliation.
On Thursday afternoon, while Admila was in the city for an emergency board meeting, Victoria summoned Alice to the formal drawing room. Julian Sterling was seated beside her, an open briefcase resting on the antique coffee table.
“Alice,” Victoria began, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “We got off on the wrong foot. My husband sees potential in you, and I want to honor that.”
Alice remained standing. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Annabelle feels terrible about her behavior,” Victoria continued smoothly. “She wants to offer you a peace offering. My diamond tennis bracelet has a loose clasp. Take it down to the jeweler on Fifth Avenue this afternoon to have it secured. Here is the receipt voucher.”
Victoria slid a velvet box across the table.
Alice knew instantly it was a trap. If she refused, it was direct disobedience. If she took it, anything could happen.
“Chief Admila instructed me to remain in the study until his return,” Alice said evenly.
“I am the mistress of this estate,” Victoria’s tone dropped to pure steel. “His authority runs the business; mine runs this household. Take the box, or be escorted out in handcuffs for breach of contract.”
Reluctantly, Alice picked up the box. She left the estate gates, walking briskly toward the transit station. But barely two blocks away, an unmarked black sedan screeched to a halt beside her. Two private security guards stepped out, flanked by local precinct officers.
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“Step back, miss,” one officer stated. “We received a report of grand larceny from the Johnson residence.”
Alice reached for her bag to produce Victoria’s voucher, but when the officer seized her purse and tipped out its contents, the voucher was gone. In its place was not just the tennis bracelet, but Victoria’s seven-carat emerald engagement ring.
