Part 2
Because her legs had stopped cooperating.
The adrenaline that had carried her across the dining room was fading.
In its place came pain.
Her wrist throbbed.
Her stomach hurt from hitting the edge of the table.
And another realization arrived with terrifying clarity.
Arthur had not been the only person involved.
Someone had ordered him to poison Vincent Hale.
Someone powerful enough to threaten his child.
And now that person knew Molly Harper had interfered.
Vincent approached her.
She straightened.
“You should have that treated,” he said.
“I know.”
“You recognized something on the plate.”
She said nothing.
“That wasn’t a guess.”
“No.”
Vincent watched her for a long moment.
Molly suddenly became aware of everything she hated being aware of.
The cheap black uniform stretched over her stomach.
Her hair escaping its bun.
The sweat along her neck.
The way Arthur had mocked her body less than an hour earlier.
She had spent most of her adult life learning what happened when people decided her shape told them everything they needed to know.
Lazy.
Undisciplined.
Unprofessional.
Invisible until she took up too much room.
May you like
Vincent Hale, however, seemed interested in something else.
“How did you know?”
