Chapter 2 - THE SECERT IN THE DARK GLASS
The heavy, opaque glass bottle rested on the polished mahogany surface like an ominous artifact from a nightmare.
Marcus stared at the dark container, his dark eyes widening slightly as the horrific realization settled into his bones.
His wife, Elena, stepped back abruptly, her stunning crimson red off-the-shoulder gown rustling against the antique Persian rug.
"Don't listen to this vagrant, Marcus! She's clearly a deranged lunatic trying to extort us!" Elena shrieked, her voice cracking with sudden panic.
The stranger didn't even glance back at Elena, keeping her fierce gaze locked entirely on the tattooed man in the wheelchair.
"Smell the cork stopper, Mr. Vance," the stranger whispered softly, her tattered charcoal clothes clinging to her thin frame. "It smells like sweet almond, doesn't it?"
Marcus inhaled slowly through his nose, catching the faint, unmistakable scent that had laced his nightly sleeping draught for three years.
His chest tightened as memories of his creeping paralysis rushed back through his mind with terrifying clarity.
"How... how do you know about the almond scent?" Marcus demanded, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly register.
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"Because I used to make that exact tincture before your loving wife stole my laboratory formula," the stranger replied coldly.
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