CHAPTER NINE -- SPECIAL BREAKFAST
1088 Words
CHAPTER NINE -- SPECIAL BREAKFAST
I woke up feeling strangely refreshed — almost too refreshed. The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, bathing the room in a warm glow. I stretched, sore in places I hadn’t noticed the night before. My body still ached from everything I had endured, but I forced myself out of bed.
The house was quiet as I padded barefoot down the hall. Vincent wasn’t home — that much I knew from the absence of his usual morning clatter. A rare sense of peace washed over me, but I knew better than to let my guard down. Madam Kensington’s words still lingered in my mind, sharp and venomous.
The dining room was unusually still. The morning staff had already laid out breakfast — a generous spread of eggs, toast, and sausages. A steaming cup of tea sat at my place, just waiting for me. Madam Kensington sat across from my empty chair, her sharp gaze meeting mine as I entered.
"You’re finally awake," she said, her voice syrupy sweet. "I thought you might starve yourself in that cell longer than you did. Sit, eat."
I forced a tight smile and approached the table. She’d never been this... accommodating. Something about her tone unsettled me, but I ignored it. I hadn’t eaten since before I was locked away, and hunger gnawed at my stomach.
"I’m not that hungry," I lied, reaching for the plate. "I’ll take it to my room instead."
Her smile faltered, but only for a second. "Nonsense. You should eat here."
"I’d rather lie down while I eat," I said quickly, forcing a small yawn for effect. "I didn’t sleep well last night."
Her fingers curled around the delicate teacup in her hand. "Of course," she said after a moment, her smile returning. "Take it, then."
I carried the plate back to my room, still not entirely suspicious. There was no reason to think anything of it. I placed the plate on my desk and flopped onto my bed, grabbing my phone.
Dan’s number was still at the top of my recent calls. I tapped it, heart thumping. The phone rang once, then twice.
"Come on," I muttered under my breath.
The third ring was interrupted by a low growl from outside my window. I froze, glancing at the curtains. Another growl followed — deeper, louder.
The dogs.
I pushed my phone aside and went to the window. The Kensingtons’ two massive bullmastiffs paced the yard below, circling near their empty food bowls.
"Haven’t they been fed?" I mumbled, irritation creeping in. The dogs were noisy when hungry, and they wouldn’t stop until someone satisfied them.
I turned back to the untouched breakfast on my desk. It still looked warm and fresh — too good to waste.
"They’ll eat anything," I murmured, grabbing the plate. The dogs barked louder as I reached the back door.
"Alright, alright," I muttered. I scraped the contents of the plate into their bowls — eggs, sausages, and all. The dogs practically lunged forward, devouring the food before I even stepped away. Satisfied, I turned back toward the house.
I was halfway inside when I heard the first choked cough.
My stomach twisted. I spun back around to see one of the dogs gagging violently, foam bubbling at the corners of its mouth. The other staggered away from the bowl, retching in thick, wet heaves. Both dogs collapsed to the ground, their limbs jerking in convulsions.
Poison.
My breath hitched. My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear the gurgling sounds of the dying dogs. I stumbled backward into the house, slamming the door shut. My knees buckled, and I pressed my back against the wall, chest heaving.
She tried to kill me.
The realization hit like ice in my veins. That sweet smile over breakfast — that cup of tea waiting for me — it was all a trap. If I had taken one bite, one sip...
The barking had stopped now. The silence was worse.
I couldn’t sit still — I couldn’t think. My mind spun, frantic and jumbled. Did she know I hadn’t eaten it? Was she watching me now?
I bolted to my room and locked the door. My phone still lay on my bed, Dan’s number flashing back at me.
I grabbed it and dialed again with trembling fingers.
"Please," I whispered. "Please pick up. Was Dan safe ? What do I do ? " I paced in front of the car.
I turned back to my phone and dialed Dan again. This time, he picks up.
"Finally," I breathed. "I’ve been trying to reach you for—"
"Jana." His voice was low. "Are you okay? What happened?"
"I’m fine." I hesitated. "For now. I just—"
The door slammed open. I jumped, and my phone nearly slipped from my hand. Vincent stormed in, his face twisted with rage.
"What the hell did you do?" he demanded.
"What?"
"Don’t play innocent." His voice rose. "You poisoned them! My dogs — they’re sick!"
My stomach twisted. "What are you talking about?"
"Don’t lie to me!" His hands clenched into fists. "You tried to kill them, didn’t you? Just admit it!"
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," I said carefully. "But if you think things like this won’t keep happening..." I let the words hang in the air like a threat.
Vincent’s expression twisted in confusion. "Are you threatening me?"
"I’m telling you to let me go." I stared him down, forcing my voice to stay even. "Divorce me. If you don’t... well, accidents happen all the time, don’t they?"
Vincent’s expression twisted in confusion. "Are you threatening me?"
"I’m telling you to let me go." I stared him down, forcing my voice to stay even.
There was something in his eyes — doubt. Unease. He didn’t know what I was capable of. Not anymore. And that terrified him.
He took a step closer, but I didn’t flinch. "If you’re trying to scare me," he growled, "it’s not going to work."
I smiled — just a little. "You’re sure about that?"
For a moment, we stood locked in a silent standoff. Then Vincent turned sharply and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
I exhaled shakily and sat down on the edge of the bed. My hands were trembling.
Dan’s voice drifted faintly from the phone still clutched in my hand. "Jana... what’s happening?"
"I don’t know," I whispered. "But whatever it is... it’s far from over."
- Writer
