Chapter 3
I had the decanter tested privately.
No police.
No spectacle.
It contained a strong sedating compound.
Enough to make me heavily impaired.
Not necessarily fatal.
That distinction mattered.
I did not exaggerate what had happened.
Katherine had not attempted a clean assassination.
She had attempted control.
Marcus knew.
He admitted it eventually.
Why attack me?
Because once Clara pointed at the wine, he knew the plan had collapsed.
He panicked.
Tried to pull me away before I could drink or inspect it.
Then when I resisted, training replaced thought.
Violence.
Stupid.
Useful.
I asked:
“Did you know what Katherine told Clara?”
“No.”
I believed him.
“Did you know she was preparing Clara to live with her?”
“Yes.”
That mattered more.
He believed the child needed to become comfortable with Katherine before any emergency happened.
So over six months, they created routines.
Saturday breakfasts.
Sleepovers.
Private lessons.
I had approved all of them.
Family.
Safe.
Normal.
Except each routine had another purpose.
Teach Clara that Aunt Katherine’s house could become home.
Teach staff to accept Katherine giving instructions about Clara.
Teach capos to see Marcus beside me in operational rooms.
Not coup.
Preparation.
May you like
That was what made it dangerous.
Preparation can become destiny if nobody questions who chose the destination.
