Chapter 2 - The Hidden Dossier
The cold metal of the syringe sitting innocently beside the vial sent a shiver straight down Maria’s spine. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the contents. The medical labels were printed in a foreign language—German, if her brief high school classes served her right—but the chemical nomenclature was universal enough. Digitoxin derivative. A powerful, highly controlled cardiac glycoside. In small, meticulously calculated doses over time, it could mimic the exact symptoms of rapid cognitive decline and heart failure in an elderly patient, completely bypassing standard toxicological screenings unless a specialized coroner specifically looked for it.
Victoria was not just trying to push Arthur out of the picture; she was systematically executing a slow-motion murder disguised as natural aging.
Panic clawed at Maria's chest. She knew she had to document this immediately. Her hands shook violently as she pulled out her phone, switched off the shutter sound, and took three clear, high-resolution photos of the vials, the syringes, and the printed instruction sheet. Every second felt like an eternity. If Victoria's spa appointment ran short, or if her driver hit an unusually lucky stretch of green lights, Maria would be caught red-handed.
Suddenly, a sharp crunch of gravel echoed from the driveway below the large arched window.
Maria froze. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She rushed to the desk, carefully arranged the cloth back exactly as she had found it, slid the drawer shut, and threw herself toward the corner with a feather duster just as the heavy front mahogany doors clicked open.
"Maria?" Victoria’s smooth, melodic voice drifted up the grand staircase. It sounded too cheerful, too sweet—a veneer masking something profoundly rotten. "Are you cleaning my suite right now?"
"Yes, Miss Sinclair!" Maria called back, forcing her voice to remain steady, though her throat was bone dry. "Just finishing up the dusting in the sitting room!"
"Good. Don't touch the desk, please. I have sensitive paperwork there," Victoria replied, her footsteps moving toward the master wing.
Maria exhaled a breath she felt she had been holding for an entire lifetime. She quickly finished her sweep of the room, packed her cleaning caddy, and hurried out. But as she descended the back service stairs, her mind raced. Taking photos on a phone wasn't enough. Phones could be hacked, dropped, deleted, or seized by someone with Nathan's immense power and legal resources if Victoria somehow turned the narrative around.
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She needed physical evidence. She needed something undeniable.
That night, while the rest of the estate slept, Maria lay awake reviewing every detail of Victoria's room. Her eyes drifted mentally to the massive, plush, custom-made feather pillows on Victoria's king-sized bed. They weren't ordinary decorative cushions. They were heavy, zipped, and meticulously fitted with concealed compartments—something Maria had noticed weeks ago while changing the pillowcases during deep cleaning. At the time, she had thought it was just a quirk for storing expensive jewelry during travel. Now, she suspected something far more sinister.
