Chapter 5 - THE CUP MY FATHER TOUCHED
Richard denied poisoning Vincent for eleven minutes.
Lana knew because she counted.
Not intentionally.
Numbers came when people became unbearable.
Eleven minutes.
Four different versions.
Three accusations.
Two attempts to blame Sebastian.
One sentence that finally sounded true.
“I thought it would make him sick, not kill him.”
Silence swallowed the library.
Vincent sat in the armchair because the doctor had ordered him to stop standing.
He hated that.
Lana could tell.
His face was pale.
A portable heart monitor rested beside him.
The physician, Dr. Elias Reed, had started an IV and threatened hospitalization.
Vincent had threatened to fire him.
Dr. Reed had replied that being fired would not make cardiac arrhythmias more convenient.
Lana liked him immediately.
Richard sat across the room under Frank’s watch.
His hands shook.
Not withdrawal.
Fear.
Lana stood near the window.
“Say it again.”
Richard looked at her.
“Lana.”
“Say the whole thing.”
“I didn't know it was poison.”
“What did you think it was?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Something to make him weak.”
Vincent’s expression did not change.
Lana’s stomach turned.
“Why?”
“Sebastian said Vincent was unstable.”
Lana laughed once.
“Unstable.”
“He said the family needed time.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
“Stop.”
Richard flinched.
She knew that flinch.
Not fear of her.
Fear of being caught in a lie.
“Dad.”
His eyes dropped.
“I knew there was going to be a vote.”
Vincent went very still.
“What vote?”
Richard looked toward Sebastian’s empty chair as if the older man might still rescue him.
Frank said, “Answer.”
Richard swallowed.
“Control.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
The Gallow organization had a council.
Lana knew that much from the ledgers.
Not a democratic institution.
More like an old family mechanism designed to prevent one bad leader from destroying everything.
Senior captains.
Two family trustees.
Three executives from legitimate holdings.
Under normal circumstances, Vincent held final authority.
But the operating charter contained a medical-incapacity clause.
Lana had seen it once and ignored it.
If Vincent became unable to discharge his duties for more than thirty days, temporary control passed to the senior family trustee.
Sebastian.
“You were making him sick for a vote.”
Richard shook his head.
“Not me. Sebastian.”
“You put it in his drink.”
“One time.”
Lana’s blood ran cold.
“One?”
Richard looked confused.
“That was the first time.”
Dr. Reed looked up.
“Impossible.”
Everyone turned.
The doctor tapped the lab results.
“Mr. Gallow has repeated exposure.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“So Richard was not the regular source.”
“No.”
Lana looked at her father.
“Then what did you give him?”
Richard reached slowly into his coat.
Frank drew his weapon.
Richard froze.
“Pocket.”
Frank removed a tiny plastic bottle.
No label.
Clear liquid.
Dr. Reed took it with gloves.
“How much?”
Richard whispered, “Six drops.”
“Into what?”
“Coffee.”
“When?”
“Before Sebastian came in.”
Vincent’s face became cold.
“You entered my kitchen as a guest and drugged me.”
Richard looked at Lana.
“I had to.”
There it was.
The sentence she had heard her whole life.
I had to.
Collectors came because he had to gamble.
Bills went unpaid because he had to chase losses.
Her mother worked herself sick because Richard had to win it back.
Lana stepped closer.
“No.”
He flinched.
“You wanted something.”
“Sebastian said he'd clear everything.”
“Your debt was already cleared.”
“Not everything.”
Silence.
Lana understood.
“What else?”
Richard began to cry.
“I borrowed after you left.”
She stared.
Five weeks.
Five weeks.
He had promised to stop gambling.
He had already borrowed again.
“How much?”
“Twenty.”
“Twenty thousand?”
He looked away.
Her rage disappeared.
Not forgiveness.
Something colder.
Exhaustion.
“You sold me for eighty-four thousand dollars and went back to the track.”
“I was trying to make money to get you out.”
Lana laughed.
It hurt.
“You cannot gamble me free.”
“Lana—”
“No.”
She sat down because her legs felt weak.
Vincent watched her.
No pity.
Good.
She could not survive pity.
Richard continued.
“Sebastian said if I did one thing, he'd erase the new debt.”
“So you poisoned Vincent.”
“I thought it would make him tired.”
“You knew it was secret.”
“Yes.”
“You knew it went in his drink.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Sebastian could have put it there himself if it was harmless.”
Richard’s mouth opened.
Closed.
Lana nodded.
“That is what I thought.”
Vincent’s voice entered quietly.
“What do you want done with him?”
Richard stared.
Lana stared too.
“What?”
“He is your father.”
“That does not make him mine to sentence.”
“No.”
Vincent looked at her.
“But I will not make this decision around you.”
Important distinction.
Richard started.
“Lana, please.”
She looked at him.
“What are the options?”
Vincent answered without drama.
“Police, if Dr. Reed’s lab can establish what is in the vial and your father’s statement is recorded.”
Richard went pale.
“Or?”
“Sebastian’s people may try to reach him if he leaves.”
“That is not an option.”
“No.”
“Protective custody here?”
Vincent’s expression showed how much he disliked the idea.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Until Sebastian is contained.”
Richard leaned forward.
“Baby—”
Lana stood.
“Do not call me that.”
He stopped.
She looked at Vincent.
“Police.”
Richard made a broken sound.
Lana’s chest tightened.
She continued anyway.
“If he committed a crime, let him answer for it somewhere that does not have a basement.”
Vincent’s mouth twitched despite the moment.
Frank looked offended.
Lana ignored him.
Vincent nodded.
“Police.”
Richard stared at her.
“You'd send your own father to jail?”
“No.”
Her voice shook.
“You sent yourself there when you put something in another man’s coffee for money.”
He started crying.
Lana looked away.
Choice was not always empowering.
Sometimes it felt terrible.
Still choice.
Dr. Reed tested the liquid using an emergency toxicology kit before transferring it to a private lab.
Digoxin.
Concentrated.
Enough in six drops to create symptoms.
Potentially dangerous with the amount already in Vincent’s system.
Richard had not known the exact drug.
He had known enough.
That mattered.
A trusted police contact arrived with two officers.
Not Gallow employees.
Real detectives.
Lana gave a statement.
Richard did too.
His attorney met him before he was transported.
No disappearing.
No euphemistic Florida.
Consequences with paperwork.
Vincent watched from the library doorway.
After Richard left, Lana stood staring at the empty drive.
Vincent came beside her.
“Do you regret it?”
She thought.
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
“And no.”
“Both can be true.”
She smiled sadly.
“You are becoming annoyingly philosophical.”
“Poisoning does that.”
“Too soon.”
“Yes.”
He swayed slightly.
Lana’s humor vanished.
“Sit.”
“I am fine.”
“You are visibly not.”
“I have been poisoned for three months. I am allowed one dramatic moment.”
“Sit.”
He sat.
Dr. Reed insisted on moving him to a private hospital suite for overnight telemetry.
Vincent refused again.
This time Lana said nothing.
His decision.
She simply looked at him.
He sighed.
“Fine.”
Frank stared at her.
“You do that better than weapons.”
“Accounting degree.”
Before leaving, Vincent handed Lana the estate’s master accounting key.
Not physical.
A biometric token tied to the entire financial archive.
She stared.
“What is this?”
“Access.”
“To everything?”
“Yes.”
“That seems irresponsible.”
“Arthur trusted you.”
“Arthur is dead.”
“I trust you.”
The words landed harder.
Lana looked at him.
“After five weeks?”
“After you found a theft, found a coup, sent your own father to police instead of asking me to make him disappear, and negotiated a salary while standing at an open gate.”
He had been counting too.
She closed her fingers around the token.
“This is not permanent.”
“No.”
“I’m not becoming your accountant forever because you got sentimental.”
“I am never sentimental.”
“Your doctor says your heart disagrees.”
He almost smiled.
Then left for the hospital.
Lana returned to the annex.
Alone.
For the first time, the center monitor unlocked every folder.
She opened Sebastian’s recruitment accounts.
Then Anna Gallow.
Arthur.
Carmine.
One hidden directory appeared.
ACCESS RESTRICTED — V.G. ONLY.
Vincent had just given her permission.
She opened it.
Inside were insurance documents.
A private investigator’s report.
And photographs from Anna’s crash.
Lana hesitated.
This was personal.
Permission to access accounts was not necessarily permission to enter grief.
She almost closed it.
Then saw one file name.
A.G. LAST CALL — ARTHUR VENN.
Anna had called Arthur seventeen minutes before the crash.
Lana played the audio.
Anna’s voice.
Breathing hard.
“Arthur, he knows I found the list.”
Arthur answered.
“Where are you?”
“Driving.”
“Pull over.”
“I can’t.”
“Anna.”
“I sent the copy.”
“To who?”
A pause.
Then Anna said a name.
“Lana Carter.”
Lana stopped breathing.
That was impossible.
Three years ago, she had been twenty.
Working part-time at the credit union.
She had never heard of Anna Gallow.
Arthur sounded equally shocked.
“Who?”
“Not yet.”
Anna’s voice cracked.
“She will be.”
The recording ended in tires screaming.
Metal.
Silence.
Lana stared at the screen.
Anna Gallow had spoken Lana’s name three years before Sebastian engineered Richard’s debt.
Before Arthur profiled her.
Before Vincent ever saw her file.
May you like
Someone had been watching Lana much longer than she knew.
And Anna had chosen her first.
