The drive back to Banana Island was silent and suffocating. Maya fell asleep on her father’s chest, having no idea that her world had just exploded. Victoria sat on the other side of the SUV, staring out the window, her jaw tight and her hands still shaking in her lap.
When they pulled through the gates of the mansion, Jerry knew he had to be careful. Victoria was smart. If he moved too fast, she would get rid of the evidence.
“Take Maya to her room,” Jerry told the nanny the second they walked into the marble foyer. “And nobody feeds her. Not even a drop of water. You hear me?”
The nanny nodded, terrified by the look on Jerry’s face.
Victoria tried to regain her footing.
“Jerry, this is ridiculous. I’m going to make Maya’s evening soup. She needs her strength.”
“Stay away from the kitchen, Victoria,” Jerry said, his voice cold as ice. “Go to the guest room. Now.”
“Now you’re locking me up because of a beggar?” she screamed.
“I’m protecting my daughter,” Jerry replied, stepping right into her space. “If you try to leave that room, my guards will stop you.”
He did not wait for her to answer. He marched into the kitchen, grabbed the pink flask Victoria used for Maya’s meals, and unscrewed the top.
It smelled like normal chicken broth.
With shaking hands, he poured a sample into a glass jar. He pulled out his phone and dialed a private number.
“Dr. Mike,” Jerry said. “I have a sample. I need a full toxin screen immediately. I don’t care what it costs. It’s coming to you right now.”
