Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 314 - Three Hundred And Thirteen

The priest pulled the door closed behind him. The room became perfectly quiet, except for the soft popping of the burning logs.

Beatrice sat down in the right chair. She groaned softly as she took the weight off her tired legs. She leaned her wooden cane against the armrest of the chair. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the peace and the warmth.

After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and looked at the small table.

On the silver tray sat a beautiful white porcelain teapot and a matching teacup. A thin wisp of steam was rising from the spout of the teapot. It smelled like rich, floral jasmine.

Beatrice felt very thirsty. Praying and crying had dried out her throat.

She reached out with her trembling, wrinkled hand. She grabbed the handle of the teapot. She carefully poured the hot, golden liquid into the delicate teacup.

She lifted the cup to her lips and blew on it softly to cool it down. Then, she took a small sip.

The warm liquid coated her dry throat. It tasted sweet and soothing.

"Such good tea," Beatrice said to herself, her voice a quiet whisper in the empty room.

She took another, longer sip. The warmth spread down into her stomach. It felt incredibly comforting after a long, cold day of sorrow. She did not notice a faint, bitter aftertaste hiding beneath the strong flavor of the jasmine flowers.

She sat back in her chair and finished the entire cup of tea. She placed the empty porcelain cup back onto the silver tray with a soft clatter.

She felt relaxed. She rested her hands on the carved armrests of the chair. She picked up her wooden cane with her right hand.

While she waited for Marissa to finish her prayers, Beatrice began to tap the bottom of her cane against the stone floor.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It was a slow, rhythmic sound. It was a habit she had when she was thinking or waiting. She stared at the flames in the fireplace, wondering what the future held for her broken family. She wondered if Derek could truly fix the mess Carlos had made.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A minute passed.

Suddenly, Beatrice stopped tapping.

She blinked her eyes. The bright orange flames in the fireplace seemed to blur. The edges of the fire grew fuzzy.

She frowned, shaking her head slightly to clear her vision. But it did not help.

A strange, heavy sensation washed over her body. Her arms felt like they were made of lead. Her chest tightened, making it suddenly very difficult to draw a full breath.

"What...?" she whispered. Her voice sounded slurred and distant, even to her own ears.

She tried to lift her hand to rub her eyes, but her fingers would not obey her commands.

They felt completely numb.

A sudden, violent wave of dizziness hit her. The entire room began to spin. The walls seemed to tilt sideways. The floor felt like it was moving underneath her chair.

She gasped for air. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Pure panic gripped her old heart. She knew this feeling. This was not normal tiredness. Something was terribly wrong.

She tried to call out for help. She tried to scream Marissa’s name. But her throat was paralyzed. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out except a weak, choked gasp.

Her grip on the wooden cane loosened. The cane slipped from her numb fingers and crashed onto the stone floor with a loud clatter.

The room spun faster. The darkness closed in around the edges of her vision.

Beatrice lost her balance. She slumped sideways in the plush chair. She could not stop herself. She slid off the edge of the velvet cushion and fell heavily onto the hard stone floor.

Her body hit the ground with a dull thud. She lay there, completely paralyzed, gasping for breath, her eyes wide open in terror as the world faded to black.

Outside the room, the evening wind howled around the stone walls of the temple.

Just outside the small, stained-glass window of the waiting room, a figure stood in the shadows.

It was Carlos.

He was wearing a rough, brown linen tunic and loose pants. It was the uniform of a lowly temple worker, the men who swept the floors and carried the firewood. His face was dirty, and he wore a cheap cloth cap pulled low to hide his identity.

He had not left the capital after being thrown out of the estate. He had nowhere to go. He had spent the night shivering in an alley, consumed by a burning, toxic hatred for his family. He blamed Derek. He blamed Ashlyn. But most of all, he blamed Beatrice. He blamed his grandmother for not saving him, for turning her back on him when he begged for mercy. He blamed the whole family.

He had followed the family carriage to the temple. He had stolen a worker’s uniform from the laundry line in the back courtyard. He had sneaked through the servant corridors, watching and waiting.

When the priest had prepared the tea tray for the old Duchess, Carlos had found his moment. He had slipped into the kitchen. He had poured a small vial of colorless, tasteless poison—a poison he had bought from a shady merchant in the lower city months ago—straight into the jasmine tea.

Now, he stood outside the window in the cold wind. He peered through the thick glass into the warm, bright room. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

He saw Beatrice pour the tea. He watched her drink it. He watched her tap her cane.

And he watched her fall.

Carlos looked at the old woman lying motionless on the stone floor. The woman who had raised him, loved him, and protected him for his entire life.

Carlos smirked.

It was an ugly, evil smile. His eyes were cold and full of bitter satisfaction. If he could not have the Thompson family wealth and power, then no one would. He would destroy them all, one by one.

He pulled the cloth cap down tighter over his head. He turned his back on the window and disappeared quickly into the dark shadows,waiting for the next victim.