"I didn't mix anything, Your Highness," the Head Chef gasped, his voice trembling as Sullivan's hand clamped down on his collar with a grip so tight it left him wheezing for air. "Please... let me go."
"Are you suggesting the poison just miraculously fell from the heavens into the cake?" Sullivan's eyes blazed with fury as he glared at the chef. The usual calm demeanor he was known for had vanished, replaced by a cold, deadly rage. Every servant in the kitchen stood frozen, paralyzed by the rare sight of Sullivan's wrath.
"Speak! Now!" Sullivan demanded, his voice a dangerous hiss as he snatched a long, gleaming kitchen knife from the counter. He held it menacingly at the chef's throat, the blade mere inches from piercing skin. "Or this will be the last thing you feel."
