Chapter 3 — The Missing Bottle

Evelyn’s gaze dropped to Marcus’s hand cradling the back of Lily’s head.

“You’re making a scene,” she said.

Marcus felt Lily flinch at the cool precision in her voice.

He drew the child closer, keeping his body between her and the table.

Her fingers had twisted into the front of his white shirt.

Each breath caught in her throat before escaping as a thin sob.

“The scene started before I came through that door,” he said.

Evelyn’s stare flicked toward the three guests, as if one of them might restore order by agreeing with her.

The woman in tan looked away.

The suited man remained rigid, his palms planted on the linen.

The younger woman in burgundy watched Lily with wet, horrified eyes.

No one came to Evelyn’s defense.

Marcus glanced at the cooked shrimp still impaled on the fork.

It lay where he had placed it, beyond Evelyn’s reach.

The folded card beside the shrimp plate remained upright, its single word facing the room like a lie no one could politely ignore.

Safe.

His silver watch caught the chandelier light as he adjusted his hold on Lily.

The motion brought a thought through his anger, sudden and cold.

He looked over the place settings, then toward the space around Lily’s chair.

“Where is her medication?”

The question changed the silence.

Lily lifted her tear-streaked face from his chest.

Marcus kept one arm around her and looked down beside her chair.

Nothing rested against its carved legs.

He checked the seat, then the floor beneath the table’s hanging white linen.

The bottle should have been easy to recognize: white plastic, red label.

It was not there.

He crouched without releasing Lily, guiding her behind his shoulder while he swept the tablecloth aside.

Gold-rimmed chargers gleamed above him.

Underneath, polished floor reflected the chandelier, but there was no bottle near Lily’s shoes, no white cylinder beneath the neighboring chairs.

“Stay with me,” he murmured.

Lily nodded, fists still bunched in his jacket.

Marcus rose and searched the tabletop.

He moved the crystal water goblet nearest Lily and looked behind it.

He lifted her folded napkin, checked beside the charger, and examined the narrow gaps between the place settings.

The pill bottle was not concealed by the card or the shrimp plate.

It had not rolled against the centerpiece.

There was nowhere else within reach for it to hide.

Evelyn remained perfectly still.

Marcus noticed.

“You knew it was supposed to be here.”

“I know many things are supposed to be where they belong,” Evelyn replied.

“That does not make me responsible every time something is misplaced.”

“Misplaced?”

His voice stayed low, but the word struck harder than a shout.

Lily pressed her cheek against his lapel again.

Evelyn’s expression tightened.

“Maybe someone moved it.”

The woman in tan inhaled sharply.

The suited man’s hands curled against the table.

The younger woman in burgundy stared at Evelyn, then at the empty space beside Lily’s plate.

Marcus studied Evelyn’s face.

She had answered too smoothly.

She had not asked which medication he meant.

She had not looked under the table or toward any surface where the bottle might have been left.

Her diamond earrings glittered as she held her head motionless, refusing even the appearance of concern.

“Who?”

Marcus asked.

Evelyn gave a slight shake of her head.

“How would I know?”

“You were sitting beside her.”

“And other people have been in this room.”

The accusation spread vaguely across the table, offering no name and demanding that everyone share its stain.

None of the guests moved.

Their shock had hardened into something less passive now—not action, but refusal.

Evelyn could not turn their silence into agreement anymore.

Marcus pulled Lily’s chair away from the table.

Its legs scraped across the floor, a harsh sound beneath the chandelier.

Lily startled, and he immediately stopped.

“It’s okay,” he told her.

“I’ve got you.”

He guided her a step farther from the place setting.

The bow at the back of her blush-pink dress trembled with her breathing.

Tears continued sliding over her cheeks, but she stayed pressed to his side, her small hand locked around his jacket.

From this angle, Marcus could see the entire arrangement: Lily’s untouched place setting, the plate piled with cooked shrimp, the false assurance printed on the folded card, and the fork he had taken from Evelyn.

Everything had been positioned neatly.

Only the white bottle with the red label was absent.

He searched once more, more slowly.

His eyes tracked along the edge of the table, beneath the goblets, between every nearby charger and napkin.

He checked the floor beyond Evelyn’s chair without stepping close enough for her to reach Lily.

Nothing.

Evelyn folded her hands at her waist.

“You’ve established that it isn’t here.

Tearing apart the dining room won’t change that.”

“No,” Marcus said.

“It won’t.”

He straightened and placed his hand firmly on Lily’s shoulder.

His anger no longer centered only on the fork.

Someone had put shrimp before a frightened child beneath a card that promised safety.

Now the one familiar safeguard he expected to find nearby had disappeared, and Evelyn was treating its absence as an inconvenience.

Marcus looked at the three guests.

None met Evelyn’s eyes.

The woman in tan sat pale and motionless.

The man in the dark suit stared at the shrimp.

The younger woman in burgundy covered her mouth again, as if holding back words she could not trust herself to speak.

Then Marcus looked past the table toward the dining-room doorway.

The dinner had been arranged before Lily took her seat.

The plate, the card, and the missing bottle all belonged to whatever had happened before he entered.

Evelyn saw the conclusion forming in his face.

“Marcus,” she said, warning replacing polish.

He tightened his arm around Lily and turned back to Evelyn.

“No one moved it by accident,” he said.

“We’re going to find out what happened before dinner.”