Chapter 21

Chapter 21

An hour later, the door to the anteroom cracked open and the senior physician stepped out, fatigue etched into his features. Noah sprang to his feet. Georgiana rose as well, placing a calming hand on his arm.

“Mr. Noah,” the doctor began, slipping off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We have preliminary toxicology results. The substance was found in her tea—an odourless, tasteless agent that induces sudden collapse. In short, she was poisoned.”

Noah’s face blanched, then flushed with fury. “Poisoned,” he repeated, voice low and dangerous. He turned on his heel and strode toward the door of Hope’s room. His guards snapped to attention, parting for him as he passed. Georgiana hurried after him.

—

In the corridor outside Hope’s room, Noah’s mother, Collette, stood flanked by two attendants. Her silk gown caught the fluorescent light; her expression was cool but guarded. As Noah approached, his steps thundered in her ears.

“They poisoned her tea,” he said between clenched teeth, nodding toward the doctor who lingered behind.

Collette’s eyes widened fractionally, then narrowed. “That’s… impossible,” she said, voice pitched too calm. “None of my kitchen staff would—”

He cut her off. “Don’t insult my intelligence. Fish out every cook, every server who had contact with her tea. Now. Or I will replace your entire culinary staff—and trust me, Mother, you do not want that scandal on your hands.”

For a moment she stiffened, lips parting as though to argue. Then Georgiana stepped forward.

“Collette,” she said quietly, “this is not the time for denials. We need to secure evidence, interview staff, preserve every cup, every spoon. Emotions will come later.”

Collette’s cheeks fluttered—anger, perhaps, or wounded pride. She glanced at her son’s hard profile, then at Georgiana’s unyielding gaze. Finally, she exhaled.

“Very well,” she said with a brittle edge. “I will summon them. But know this: my cooks are loyal. If someone did this, it wasn’t one of them.”

Noah’s jaw tightened. “Loyalty doesn’t preclude bribery—or blackmail.” He paused, then added more softly: “I want them brought here, one by one, for questioning. I want tea samples, spice jars, everything sealed. And I want your full cooperation.”

Collette inclined her head, lips compressed. “You’ll have it.”

—

Within minutes, two stewards appeared at Collette’s summons. They retreated to the kitchen wing; hushed orders echoed through the staff corridors. Georgiana ushered Noah back into the anteroom, where the guards stood like silent sentinels.

“Noah,” she said gently, “you’ve done what you must. Now we wait for their statements and the final lab report.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders still taut. “I just… I don’t understand who would target her.”

Georgiana gave him a sympathetic look. “Someone who saw her as a threat. But whoever it is, they’ve just made themselves your enemy.”

Noah nodded, eyes on the closed door to Hope’s room. “And they’ll regret it.”

—

Thought for a second

“Noah,” Georgiana murmured, falling into step beside him as they headed down the corridor, “are you certain? Dismissing the entire kitchen staff will cause upheaval—”

He shook his head, voice cold. “I don’t care about upheaval. Someone tried to kill my sister.”

They reached the service elevator. Georgiana pressed the call button. The doors slid shut; the soft ding echoed.

“I want every cook, every server, every steward—for now, they’re all suspended pending investigation,” Noah said. “Effective immediately. Payroll frozen. No exceptions.”

Georgiana frowned. “Including those with solid alibis?”

“Especially those,” he replied. “I’d rather err on the side of caution.”

—

The private elevator opened onto the grand foyer where Julian waited—tall, impeccably dressed, the very picture of aristocratic composure. His steel‑gray eyes softened when he saw his son, but hardened again at the sight of Georgiana beside him.

“Noah,” Julian said, inclining his head, “Georgiana. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Noah stepped forward. “Father, they’ve poisoned Hope.”

Julian’s brow creased. “Poisoned? Are you certain?”

“We have preliminary toxicology,” Noah said. “Odourless, tasteless agent. She collapsed within minutes.”

Julian’s expression flickered between disbelief and rage. “My daughter—”

Noah’s jaw tightened. “That’s why I’ve suspended every member of Mother’s kitchen and service staff. Effective immediately. I’ll replace them all before week’s end.”

Julian’s lips parted, about to protest. “Noah, that’s extreme—”

“No,” Noah cut him off. “It’s necessary. Whoever did this wore a cook’s coat.”

Julian studied his son’s face, saw the unyielding determination there. After a moment, he nodded once. “Very well. You have my support. But be precise—if you root out the innocent along with the guilty, we risk scandal worse than any poisoning.”

Noah’s gaze was ice. “I’ll take that risk.”

—

That afternoon, Collette oversaw the solemn procession of staff into the anteroom. Each stood in crisp uniforms, faces pale, fear and indignation mingling in their eyes. Under Noah’s orders, Georgiana read the statement: all were suspended, their duties revoked until further notice.

As the last cook departed, head bowed, Georgiana closed the door. “It’s done,” she said softly.

Noah exhaled. “Good. Now we wait for the lab’s confirmation—and then we’ll decide who gets the blame.”

—

Later, in his father’s study, Noah found Julian at his desk, pouring over financial reports. The scent of leather and aged mahogany filled the room. Noah closed the door behind him.

“You followed through,” Julian said without looking up.

“I did.” Noah stepped into the lamplight. “They’re all suspended. Payroll frozen.”

Julian raised his head. “You’re prepared for the fallout?”

Noah nodded. “I don’t care about fallout. I care about Hope.”

Julian’s stern façade softened. He stood and crossed the room, placing a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “You’ve always protected your family. I’m proud of you—though I wish you’d consulted me first.”

Noah allowed himself a brief half‑smile. “I knew I’d have your support, eventually.”

Julian gave a short laugh. “Just... keep me informed. And find out who did this. I want names.”

Noah’s eyes burned. “They’ll pay.”