Chapter 4: The Poison

AVA

His touch is still on my skin, a phantom brand, and this sterile air conditioning is a lie. I can’t focus, my mind is just this broken record of Caleb’s shattered eyes, his voice cracking, the way the light died in that loft—and now I’m here, waiting for Julian, and my own work in front of me looks like a foreign language. I’m completely unmoored.

The doors hiss open. I jump, my heart lurching—but it’s not him.

It’s Victoria.

She glides in like she owns the air in here, a mug in each hand, this fake, polished smile on her face. It doesn’t reach her eyes. Never does.

“Don’t get up, Ava. Please.” Her voice is soft, but there’s an edge, like a knife wrapped in silk. “You’re deep in thought. I simply couldn’t let you toil away without sustenance. Consider it a peace offering.”

A peace offering. Right. My gut tightens; this feels like a predator’s lull, the quiet before the strike. I force my voice to work. “Oh. Thank you, Victoria, but you really didn't need to. I'm fine.”

She ignores me, places the mug right in front of me. A little performance. “Nonsense. You're working tirelessly. And you look… a touch pale, my dear.” Her eyes lock on mine. “Black, two sugars, right? I pay attention. Always.”

A chill, sharp and immediate, goes through me. It’s my usual order, public knowledge, but the way she says it—like she’s been watching, cataloging—makes my stomach clench. “That's… very thoughtful.”

“We’re on the same team, aren't we?” she says, her smile widening, a predatory gleam flickering in there. “Sterling women have to stick together, especially when the men are so… preoccupied. Drink. You'll feel better.”

I don’t want to. Everything in me screams not to. But I pick it up, the warmth seeping into my fingers. I take a sip. It’s too sweet, cloying, sticking to my tongue. She watches me, that smile never fading. A look that promises danger.

She pulls a chair close, leaning in like we’re best friends. “So, Ava. Tell me. How are you settling into the Sterling family dynamics? Quite the whirlwind, I imagine.”

I swallow the thick sweetness. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come now. Don't play coy.” Her voice drops to a murmur, every word a perfectly aimed dart. “I saw you with Caleb that night. An intimate little rendezvous. And then, with Julian. You're certainly not wasting any time. A regular Sterling family whirlwind.”

I flinch. I can’t help it. Heat floods my cheeks. “It wasn't like that. Caleb was… he was just showing me some of his work.”

“Oh, I know what Caleb is, darling.” Her eyes are unblinking. “A damaged, rebellious boy with a taste for things that don't belong to him. He was always drawn to Julian’s possessions. A rather sad, predictable pattern, really.” She pauses, letting that sink in, twist in my gut. “And Julian… well, Julian collects beautiful things, Ava. Rare, exquisite things. But he never truly knows what to do with them once they’re his. He just… admires them, then sets them aside. Or worse, he’ll crush them without even realizing it.”

The words are cruel, precise. They find all my hidden fears. A cold dread coils in my stomach. “Why are you telling me this, Victoria?”

The pretense drops. The predator is fully visible. “Because I like you, Ava. You have fire. A genuine spark. And I'd truly hate to see it extinguished by the Sterling machine. Especially by Julian’s careless hand or Caleb’s reckless ones.” She leans in even closer, her whisper a stark contrast to the cruelty. “There's a file on the Henderson account. On the shared server. Folder 7B. Take a look. It might… contextualize some of the 'structural revisions' Caleb is so passionately working on. Julian might even appreciate your… proactive information gathering.”

She stands, that final, unsettling smile aimed at me. “Be careful, Ava. This place, these men… they’re more dangerous than they seem.”

She’s gone. And I’m left with the metallic taste of fear, the cloying syrup on my tongue. My head feels muddled, the room tilting just a little.

Then the doors hiss again.

Julian.

He fills the room, a palpable force. His dark, intense eyes find me immediately, searing into me, and my breath just catches. The air thickens, charged. He doesn’t look at my work. His gaze lands on the mug. His jaw tightens, a flicker of something unreadable. He moves, swift and sure, and his fingers brush mine as he picks up the cup.

A jolt. A spark. It clears the fog for a second, leaving nothing but a dizzying awareness of him, of his proximity.

He lifts the mug, inhales. His face darkens. A muscle twitches in his jaw.

“Where did you get this, Ava?” His voice is low, quiet, dangerous.

My heart is hammering. “Victoria. She brought it in. Said it was a peace offering.”

His eyes, dark as obsidian, snap up to mine. For a split second, a raw, primal fury blazes in them—for me, because of me—and the heat of it makes my skin tingle. Then it’s gone, banked, replaced by icy control. He turns, strides to a potted fern, and pours the mug’s contents into the soil. The sickly sweet smell blooms in the air. The plant’s leaves curl, yellowing right before my eyes.

He turns back. His voice is a chilling pronouncement. “She knows you're severely allergic to hazelnut. It's in your HR file. That wasn't coffee. It was hazelnut syrup. Concentrated. She was seeing if you'd react.” He gestures to the dying plant. “She's marking her territory. And with that little performance, she's managed to mark you as well.” His gaze sweeps over me, a possessive, predatory glint in its depths. “You’re now her unwitting pawn.”

Nausea, cold and profound, washes over me. The near-miss. The malice. And his analysis, so brutal and cold. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel both threatened and… seen. Deeply, completely seen.

He finally turns to my schematics, picking them up, flipping through. The fury is gone, rechanneled into a cold, critical focus. I’m trembling, trying to find my voice.

“I've incorporated the latest stress calculations, Julian,” I start, voice tight. “Accounting for the tidal shifts and seismic activity. The foundation integrity… I spent extra time on it.”

He hums, a noncommittal sound. He taps a sharp nail on a diagram. He’s so close I can smell his cologne, something clean and expensive, and it’s a potent distraction. “Adequate. These are… adequate, Ava.”

His gaze lifts, locks onto mine, and that hungry spark is back, warring with the dismissive word. “But adequate isn't groundbreaking. Not anymore. Not for Sterling. And certainly not from you. Not again.”

The words are a physical blow. “I've pushed the boundaries within the parameters, Julian. The budget, the demands—”

“Parameters are for those who can't see beyond them,” he cuts me off, his voice flat, cruel. “Breaking ground isn't about working within limits, it’s about redefining them. You understand? This feels… safe. You're capable of more. Or at least, I thought you were.”

The accusation stings, deep. It’s designed to push, to test his control, even as the raw magnetism between us thrums, undeniable. He places the schematics down with a soft, final thud. He doesn’t wait for a response. With a final, piercing look that strips me bare, he turns and leaves.

The silence screams.

I stand there, reeling. Adequate. Not groundbreaking. Again. The words echo, mixing with Victoria’s warning. Folder 7B. Henderson account. Caleb’s revisions.

A cold, methodical anger pushes out the fear. I have to know.

I go back to my laptop, my fingers flying. I find the server, the Henderson account. My heart is a frantic drum against my ribs.

Folder 7B.

I click it open. Geological surveys. I scan the data, the dates. And then I see it. Altered reports. Sections that show stable bedrock where I know there are fault lines. Unstable substrata. The exact areas Caleb was so excited about.

The blood drains from my face. This is a lie. A deliberate, catastrophic deception. It could ruin him. It could get people killed.

Victoria’s smile, Julian’s cold eyes, Caleb’s broken plea—it all crashes together. The ground isn’t just shaky. It’s a lie, and I’m standing right on top of it.