Chapter 8
I confronted Elspeth with Claire’s account.
She did not deny it this time.
That was somehow worse.
She sat beneath Vivian’s portrait with both hands folded.
“I knew.”
Three words.
My entire body went still.
“You knew the plate was unsafe.”
“Yes.”
I heard Caspian’s voice from the conservatory.
Mommy couldn’t eat this either.
I forced myself to remain seated.
“Why tell her it was safe?”
Elspeth cried.
“I needed her to stay.”
“That answer is not enough.”
“She was leaving me.”
Not the dinner.
Her.
Vivian had told Elspeth their relationship was over if she did not confess the manufactured threat scheme to me herself.
Elspeth panicked.
She wanted to keep Vivian seated long enough to argue.
To convince.
To delay.
She handed her a dessert she knew Vivian should not have been given and reassured her anyway.
“What did you think would happen?”
Elspeth covered her face.
“I thought she wouldn’t eat much.”
I stared.
That sentence revealed everything.
She knew there was risk.
She decided how much risk another person should carry.
For ten minutes.
For an argument.
For Hollis.
For fear of losing her sister.
Then Vivian became ill.
Elspeth panicked again.
Dorian took over.
Accident.
Kitchen error.
Tragedy.
A story formed before grief had even reached me.
I stood.
Elspeth looked up.
“Ronan, I didn’t want her dead.”
“I believe you.”
She froze.
That was not mercy.
“You wanted control of the next ten minutes more than you respected her no.”
Her face collapsed.
“You wanted her seated.”
Silence.
“You wanted her quiet.”
Silence.
“And afterward you wanted me blind.”
She cried harder.
I did not touch her.
Then I asked:
“Why Caspian tonight?”
Her answer came slowly.
“He asked why I never eat cake with him.”
I waited.
“He said his mother didn’t either.”
“And that made you angry?”
“Yes.”
At a five-year-old.
Because children resurrect truths adults spend years burying.
Caspian’s allergy had become a living reminder of Vivian’s last refusal.
May you like
Elspeth tried to overpower that reminder.
And exposed herself instead.
