Chapter 15 - The Poisoned Gala
The grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan gleamed with thousand-crystal chandeliers, casting brilliant shards of light across five hundred of New York’s most influential elites. It was the inaugural benefit for the *Clara Vale Children’s Protection Foundation*, the initiative Daniel and Hannah had established to dismantle corrupt guardianship and child-exploitation networks.
Clara was safe in the penthouse suite upstairs under the guard of six tactical agents, while Daniel and Hannah worked the floor. Hannah looked magnificent in an emerald-green evening gown that hid the scars of her past struggles, her poise commanding the respect of senators, judges, and philanthropists.
Yet Daniel’s mind was thousands of miles away, deciphering the data recovered from Eleanor’s encrypted drive. The drive revealed that Victoria’s father, Arthur Vance—a billionaire pharmaceutical mogul whose empire had funded high-ranking state judges—had orchestrated Eleanor’s fake death to seize control of a revolutionary pediatric neuro-treatment Eleanor had patented.
"Smile, Daniel," Hannah whispered as they stood near the grand stage. "Arthur Vance has three board members in this room tonight. If they see you sweating, they’ll know we broke the drive."
"Arthur Vance isn't here," Daniel muttered, scanning the sea of tuxedoes and couture gowns. "The coward sent his proxies."
At that moment, an elderly man with silver hair and a walking cane pushed through the crowd toward them. It was Judge Harrison Miller, the retired family court judge who had granted Victoria sole custody over Clara’s medical decisions during Daniel’s brief hospitalization two years prior.
Miller looked petrified. Sweat was pouring down his temples, soaking his starched white collar. His hand shook so violently his champagne glass rattled against its stem.
"Daniel... I need two minutes. In the library. Now," Miller whispered, his voice trembling with terror.
Daniel exchanged a look with Hannah. "Stay with Marcus," Daniel murmured to her, stepping off to the secluded library corridor behind the ballroom with Judge Miller.
The library was silent, insulated by heavy mahogany doors and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
"What is it, Harrison?" Daniel demanded, shutting the door.
Miller leaned against a leather armchair, gasping for breath, clutching his chest. "Arthur Vance... he knows you opened Eleanor’s grave. He knows you have the patent registry."
"Where is Eleanor, Harrison? Answer me!"
"She’s... she was never in Switzerland," Miller wheezed, his face turning an alarming shade of mottled purple. His eyes bulged, blood vessels bursting in the whites of his sclera. "Arthur kept her... in the Blackwood Sanitarium... under Victoria’s mother's name... They’ve been testing the compound on her for four years—"
Suddenly, Miller seized up. His jaw snapped shut with a sickening crack, biting through his own tongue as frothy, bloody saliva bubbled past his lips. He clawed violently at his throat, falling to the Persian rug, convulsing.
Daniel dropped to his knees, ripping open Miller’s collar. "Security! Marcus! Get a medic!"
Miller grabbed Daniel’s lapels with superhuman, dying strength. With his final, rattling breath, he pulled Daniel’s ear to his bloody lips:
"The foundation... your foundation... the catering staff... the champagne... Clara's juice..."
The judge’s eyes rolled back into his head, his body slumping limp onto the floor.
Daniel’s heart stopped.
*The catering staff.*
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Clara was upstairs in the penthouse. And Hannah had just sent up a private dinner tray.
***
