The Champagne Was Poisoned

PART ONE — THREE YEARS AGO

Event: The Miller Charity Party

Venue: The Geraldine's Hotels

“... you know this will help you get your inheritance. It's all for you, Lila. Everything your uncle and I do, is for your own good.” My aunt, Erica Shaw, hissed at me. Short and thin fingers curled around my upper arm, blunt nails digging into my skin.

I gave a grimace, nodding “Yes, Aunt Erica.” Gently, I pulled my arm from her grip, wincing at the half moon marks she left on my skin.

“Great!” Her lips pulled up into a wide smile that was as fake as the jewelry I wore, and her eyes pretended to crinkle at the corners. “Now, mingle” She gave two claps in a ‘chop-chop’ manner and gently shoved me into the mass of moving bodies. I moved along with them.

We were at a private charity gala organised by the Millers at ‘The Geraldine's Hotels’, in a quest to ‘give back’ to the community —the community they stole from, but who’s counting.

The soft tunes of the violins, saxophones and piano pierced the room, creating a melodious and nostalgic atmosphere.

As the night wore on, I made my way to the wine fountain and grabbed a flute of champagne. I felt like a porcelain doll on display, forced to smile and mingle with people who only cared about power and titles. The music and laughter seemed to swirl around me, a cacophony of superficiality that made my skin crawl.

The men and women mingling in the room spoke in hushed tones about mergers and acquisitions, their voices dripping with confidence and entitlement.

There were businessmen, wives of businessmen, mistresses of businessmen, and like me, nieces or daughters of businessmen.

All of them were clad in high end designer gowns and suits, their fingers adorned with diamond-encrusted cufflinks and elbow-length gloves, —just to be extra — expensive watches, and too high heels.

Well, that was Mrs. Augustine, wife to Mr. Jamieson Edwards, the president of Azure Seas. They owned a yacht and ship collection for hire.

They were one of the few people I was familiar with. Others, well I either mixed up their names or mixed up their faces.

My hands plucked a piece of grape from the base of the fountain and I took a bite, its sweet juice filling my mouth.

“Hello, there,” I turned to the male voice that snuck up beside me, his hands stretched out for a handshake. I shook it. “I'm Collins Turner, the fourth. CEO of Nova Tech”

I swallowed my laughter with the grape. “I'm Lila. Lila Rose”. I refrained from adding, ‘the first’. He wouldn't get it. They only found humour in gossip, closed deals and golf.

He quirked a brow at that, lifting my knuckles to his lips and placing a kiss there. I wanted to roll my eyes.

“Lila Rose…” He drawled expectantly, his lips in a tight line and I knew what he wanted.

He wanted a flamboyant introduction. Maybe Lila Rose the CEO or Princess Lila Rose. I was neither of those things, at least not until I got my inheritance.

“Just Lila Rose.” I replied, my voice firm.

He nodded, clearing his throat. My lips twitched as I watched him pluck a flute of champagne and down it in one go, jaw clenching in irritation. “Very well, Lila.” He said and left. But not before grabbing another flute, from a different server.

My teeth bit down on my bottom lip to stifle the giggle that wanted to escape. Honestly, I've met a lot of ‘Collins’ at these events and I've had to watch the light being snuffed out of their eyes when they realise I have nothing to offer except, Lila Rose. They probably wondered how I got into these events.

Those that knew me as Gregory Shaw's niece were “nicer”. But only because I was his niece.

Collins slithered his way up to a group of men and he seemed to be content, with the way he smiled and laughed with them.

I tore my gaze away, biting into another delicious grape.

*At least they had tasty appetisers at events like these. *I thought.

Spotting my aunt walk up to me, her floor-length sequined gown swaying with each step and a flute in her hand, I groaned inwardly.

“There you are, Lila.” She started, her eyes searching the ballroom. “Why aren't you getting acquainted with people? You need to learn to make connections, get to know these individuals. It will come in handy, soon.”

“I did. I met the CEO of Nova Tech. Collins Turner,” I paused. “–the fourth.”

A flash of surprise crossed her face. “That's very wonderful.” She replied, the joke completely going over her head.

Did I love my Uncle and his family? Absolutely not. But, I was grateful to them for taking me in after my parents died, when I was fourteen. The first few years of living with them was hell, especially with their daughter, Helena.

She made everything more unbearable for me, I was miserable. The taunting and snide remarks thrown at me, conversations I overheard between my Uncle and aunt.

Pfft!

They didn't love me either. We only tolerated each other and I knew I was just an asset to them.

*'Patience Greg,” *I had overheard.* “-Her inheritance is what makes her valuable to us.’ *

That day, my Uncle was fed up with me and wanted to throw me out of his house, because I and Helena got into our usual squabble where I ended up smacking her across the cheek. Hard.

Of course, she tattled.

If they thought they had a chance at my inheritance, they were wrong because I would do everything in my power to leave with it.

Every. Single. Penny.

“You can't just meet one person though, dear,” She said pointedly, fussing around the table. My eyes were fixed on the different groups of people huddled together. Then, they drifted towards two pairs of couples that were dancing— salsa.

---

💋 To be continued...

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