“A room full of wealthy adults panicked over a screaming baby, but a twenty-three-year-old waitress was the only one who realized he was begging for help.

Sophie pressed her back against the stainless-steel counter, the cold metal biting through her uniform as she clutched the poisoned bottle in her trembling hand. “You… you’re working with them? Or are you trying to destroy Dominic from the inside?”

“Destroy him?” Arthur laughed softly, walking closer with the casual arrogance of a cat cornering a mouse. “Oh, Sophie. You still don’t understand the grand design of the Obsidian, do you? Some people build fortresses to keep enemies out. Dominic built this one to keep his secrets locked inside—and I’ve been helping him manage those secrets for years.”

“You poisoned a baby,” Sophie hissed, her voice trembling with pure, unadulterated rage.

“I accelerated a process,” Arthur corrected, tilting his head with clinical detachment. “A restless child makes mistakes. A dead child… well, that creates a very convenient crisis for a grieving father who happens to own half the city.”

“I’m calling Dominic,” Sophie said, her hand darting toward her pocket where her phone lay.

Before her fingers could even graze the device, Arthur moved with terrifying speed.

He closed the distance between them, his hand clamping down over her wrist with iron strength, pinning her arm against the counter so hard the glass bottle slipped from her fingers and shattered on the tile floor, white formula splashing across their shoes.

“You won’t be calling anyone, Sophie,” Arthur whispered into her ear, his breath hot and malicious. “Because by dawn, the police are going to find a disgraced, unlicensed nurse standing over a dead baby with a pocket full of sedatives. And unlike last time… nobody is going to save you.”