Vincent returned the nod, his gaze sharp and unwavering.
As Greg exited the room, the heavy door closing with a soft click, Vincent's phone vibrated on the table, breaking the tense silence. He picked it up, pressing it to his ear.
"Yeah?"
Lucas's voice crackled through the speaker, tinged with apprehension. "Mr. Yves wants you to get the same poison that Madam Clark used to kill Medea Gilbert."
A cold chill swept through Vincent, his grip tightening around the phone.
The request was as dangerous as it was audacious, a stark reminder of the deadly game they were all entangled in.
"Are you sure that's what he wants?" Vincent's voice was low, measured, hiding the storm brewing inside him.
"Positive," Lucas replied, his tone urgent. "He was very specific about it. Said it has to be the exact same poison."
"Understood," Vincent said finally, his voice steely with resolve. "I'll take care of it."
