Chapter 2

A sharp sting bloomed behind my nose. Pain flooded my chest.

Two hours ago they'd been laughing together. Now they were five cold bodies, dead in a hospital.

And their son was still writhing between another woman's sheets.

Not fit to be called human.

I choked back tears and messaged the Hermès associate.

"I haven't been to the store in weeks. That bag was picked up under false pretenses. Please call the police immediately."

Dr. Bennett told me the snake that had bitten the Vances was virtually extinct in California. That was why hospitals never stocked the antivenom.

Too much of a coincidence.

A snake rare to California, appearing right next to a picnic tent.

Killing five people in a single afternoon.

LAPD took the case seriously. It was opened at record speed.

Less than twelve hours later, the results came in. Someone had bulk-purchased live rattlesnakes off eBay and the dark web, then released them under cover of night onto the Vance family estate in Napa Valley.

The suspects.

Chloe Sinclair's parents.

The untouchable ideal Julian had spent half his life worshipping — her parents were the ones who'd wiped out his family.

I truly hoped, in the moment he learned the truth, he would cry his eyes out.

Detective Morris walked over to explain.

"Mrs. Vance, we have a clear picture of the situation. But the two suspects are currently in the hospital themselves, in critical condition. We can't bring them in for questioning just yet."

My face was impassive.

"They were bitten too. But they already got the antivenom. They'll live."

"You can go interrogate them right now. It won't affect anything."

Detective Morris gave me a second look, clearly wondering how I knew such specific details.

But seeing my pale face and vacant stare, he chose not to press.

"Mrs. Vance, rest assured. LAPD will get to the bottom of this. You and the deceased will get the answers you deserve."

Once the police left, I opened my phone and called our family attorney, Mr. Whitmore. I told him to file a civil suit in Los Angeles Superior Court immediately.

The criminal side would be pushed by the police. On the civil side, I intended to nail the Sinclair family to the public pillory myself.

A sudden call interrupted me.

Julian, furious.

"Seraphina, are you looking for a fucking fight? I'm your husband. I can't pick up a bag for you at a counter? Is that a crime now?"

"And you called the cops? Were you bitten by that stupid snake too? Did the venom rot your brain?"

Curses and accusations spilled out of him in a torrent — and not a single word asking what had happened in the trauma bay.

I spoke coldly.

"Not normal. Because I never saw the bag. You say you picked it up for me — fine. Then answer me: where is it now?"

Julian went silent.

After a long stalemate, his tone softened.

"Sera, you and I share a bed. Why keep score like we're strangers?"

"It's Chloe's birthday. She's wanted that Birkin for years. It's the only one in the country. I just wanted to make her happy."

"You should've seen how it suited her. Don't be like this."

Shameless. Shameless beyond words.

I snapped back without restraint.

"You can actually say that out loud? Why don't you spend your own money to buy her one? Useless."

Julian froze for a beat. His voice turned incredulous.

"You — you actually dare to talk to me like that? Have you lost your mind?"

In the past, I would have spared his pride. I chose my words carefully.

Now I realized he had a hide like a rhinoceros.

Refusing to give him another opening to fight, I said quickly:

"If you have a shred of humanity left in you, get your ass over to the morgue at Cedars-Sinai and see what your stupidity has done."

"They're already dead! Me going over there isn't going to bring them back to life! It's supposed to be a special night — don't come dumping your misery on me!"

Julian roared, then shifted tone abruptly.

"Oh — and don't cremate your parents yet. Ship the bodies to my company. We'll see if we can donate them to our body-donation program as research specimens."

"Chloe's parents just came out of the trauma bay. She's a wreck. I have to be with her first."

Click.

The line went dead.

I laughed.

So from beginning to end, he'd believed it was my entire family who'd died.

I'd meant to let his parents rest in peace as quickly as possible. But now —

I called the funeral home directly and ordered five refrigerated transport caskets.

One refrigerated freight truck. One professional driver.

Following Julian's "instructions," I had his entire family "escorted" out of the morgue.

Five bodies. Five ice caskets. Neatly loaded in the back of the truck.

Destination: Vance Biotech research lab.

Signee: Julian Vance, CEO.

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