Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN AT THE FOOT OF THE STAIRS.
Eleanor Whitmore collapsed before the champagne toast began.
One moment, she stood beneath the crystal chandelier welcoming Chicago’s wealthiest families into her lakeside mansion.
The next, she lay motionless on the black-and-white marble floor at the foot of the curved staircase.
James dropped to his knees beside his mother and took her hand.
“Mom—can you hear me?”
Several guests stepped closer, but none crossed the polished floor.
They watched from behind gold trays and expensive evening gowns, afraid to become part of a scene that might later appear in the society pages.
Eight-year-old Sophie stood several feet away, crying into both hands.
Maria Alvarez, Eleanor’s caregiver, kept one protective arm around the girl’s shoulders.
Halfway up the staircase, Vivian Whitmore gripped the carved railing in her emerald gown.
She stared down at Eleanor with tears on her face.
James slowly raised his eyes.
“Vivian… what happened before we came in?”
Vivian did not answer.
Her silence changed the room.
James noticed a broken champagne flute near the third stair and a small silver medicine case beside his mother’s dress.
Vivian finally whispered that Eleanor had felt dizzy.
Maria immediately disagreed.
“Mrs. Whitmore was fine ten minutes ago.”
Vivian turned toward the caregiver with cold disbelief.
“You were responsible for her medication.”
The accusation moved through the foyer faster than concern.
Guests who had ignored Maria all evening now looked at her as if a uniform were evidence of guilt.
Sophie pulled at James’s sleeve.
“Aunt Vivian gave Grandma something.”
Vivian’s face went still.
Then Eleanor’s silver medicine case began vibrating against the marble.
A phone had been hidden inside it.
May you like
The screen displayed one incoming message:
“Did she drink it?”
