Chapter 91

Cynthia stood by the kitchen window, peeking through the curtains to make sure no one was watching. Her eyes glinted with cold calculation as she looked down at the small bottle of olive oil in her hand. She had planned this perfectly. A wicked smile curled her lips. Sacrificing her own son wasn’t something that bothered her. After all, it was a means to an end—her end goal of controlling Richard entirely.

Cynthia peered around the corner to check if the coast was clear. She listened intently for any signs of life from the other rooms—silence. Satisfied, she moved swiftly, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Slipping into the kitchen, she opened a drawer and pulled out a small bottle of olive oil. A wicked smile curved her lips as she twisted the cap off, pouring a thin, nearly invisible stream of oil along the top three steps of the staircase.

She quickly wiped the bottle clean, placed it back where it belonged, and took a deep breath. "This should be enough," s