Chapter 16 - Blood in the Champagne Fountain
The silent video feed illuminated the terrified faces of the five hundred gala guests with a sickly blue glow.
On the screen, the door to the hotel suite stood ajar. The heavy oak frame was splintered around the deadbolt. On the plush carpet lay two security guards, completely motionless in pools of dark liquid.
In the center of the nursery room sat the white wooden crib.
A man was standing over it, his back to the camera. He wore a sharply tailored charcoal suit, his broad shoulders and dark hair creating an eerie, mirror-image silhouette of Julian. The man slowly reached his gloved hand into the crib, lifting a small, white embroidered blanket.
"Lucas!" Clara screamed, a sound of such visceral, primal agony that the entire ballroom fell dead silent. "Julian, my baby! My baby!"
"Vance! Vance, answer me!" Julian roared into his radio, his heart hammering against his ribs like a battering ram. The radio spat back only white noise and static.
On the screen, the man turned slightly toward the camera. He wore a silver masquerade half-mask, revealing only a pair of piercing, icy-blue Sterling eyes and a cold, sadistic sneer that Clara had seen a thousand times on Eleanor Sterling’s face.
He held up a handwritten sign to the lens:
*“A toast to the prodigal son. Drink up.”*
Instantly, from the center of the ballroom, a sickening gurgle shattered the silence.
A prominent Boston socialite, Lady Genevieve DuPont, who had just sipped from a crystal flute of vintage Dom Pérignon from the center champagne tower, suddenly dropped her glass. It shattered against the parquet floor. She clutched her throat, her eyes rolling back into her skull, blood foaming at the corners of her mouth.
"Poison!" someone shrieked. "The champagne is poisoned!"
Pandemonium erupted. Five hundred people scrambled in absolute hysteria toward the heavy oak exit doors, knocking over tables, trampling floral arrangements, and shattering crystal towers. Women screamed, men shouted, and the sound of breaking glass echoed like gunfire.
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Julian didn't look at the crowd. He grabbed Clara by the wrist, pulling her through the stampede with ferocious, unstoppable strength. "We’re going to the hotel! Now!"
They burst through the library’s side emergency exit into the freezing rain. Julian’s armored SUV was already idling at the curb. Julian shoved Clara into the passenger seat, jumped behind the wheel, slammed the accelerator to the floor, and tore through the city streets, red lights blurring into smears of blood in the downpour.
