Chapter 6 Prelude to Murder at the Engagement Party

# Chapter 6: Prelude to Murder at the Engagement Party

The morning after their dramatic exit from the Todd mansion, Tracy woke to the buzz of her phone. The screen displayed dozens of notifications—news alerts, text messages, social media tags. She opened the first one and gasped.

"TODD FAMILY DINNER ERUPTS: FAKE HEIRESS ACCUSES REAL DAUGHTER OF MURDER"

The article featured a blurry photo taken by a guest, showing Lillian's hand raised moments before striking Tracy. Phil appeared in the background, his expression coldly furious as he moved toward them.

"Enjoying your newfound notoriety?" Phil asked from the doorway of her bedroom. He was already dressed in workout clothes, a sheen of sweat suggesting he'd been up for hours.

Tracy sat up, pushing her tangled hair from her face. "Is this part of the plan too? Having my humiliation splashed across every gossip site in New York?"

"It's not humiliation," Phil corrected, entering the room to sit on the edge of her bed. "It's strategic positioning. Look at the comments."

Tracy scrolled down reluctantly.

"Who hits someone at a charity dinner? Class much, Lillian?"

"That slap was NOT the reaction of an innocent person."

"Starting to wonder if the 'fake' heiress might be telling the truth..."

"Public opinion is shifting," Phil explained. "People love an underdog, and you just became one. More importantly, Lillian showed her true colors in front of fifty of New York's most influential people."

Tracy set the phone aside. "Did you really find evidence in Eleanor's study?"

Phil nodded, reaching into his pocket to produce a USB drive. "Birth records, adoption papers, financial transfers to someone named Carmen Vega dating back twenty years."

"Lillian's mother," Tracy whispered.

"Exactly. Harold kept records of everything—including payments that look suspiciously like blackmail." Phil twirled the small drive between his fingers. "But the most interesting thing is what's not there."

"What do you mean?"

"Your DNA test results—the ones that supposedly proved you weren't a Todd? I found the original report." His eyes met hers. "It was inconclusive, Tracy. Not negative."

Tracy felt as though the floor had dropped from beneath her. "Inconclusive? But Eleanor and Harold said—"

"They lied. Or more likely, Lillian lied to them." Phil handed her the drive. "Everything's on here. I've already made copies."

Tracy stared at the small object in her palm. "So I might actually be a Todd?"

"Biologically? It's possible. The test showed some genetic markers consistent with the Todd lineage, but not enough for a definitive match. It would have warranted further testing, not immediate expulsion."

A knock on the door frame interrupted them. Marcus, Phil's security man, stood there looking grim.

"Sir, we have a situation. Ms. Todd—Lillian—has called a press conference for noon today. The topic is listed as 'family matters and corporate succession.'"

Phil checked his watch. "That gives us three hours. Get the team ready. We need to monitor this closely."

As Marcus departed, Tracy swung her legs over the side of the bed. "What do you think she's planning?"

"Damage control, most likely. After last night's scene, she needs to regain narrative control." Phil stood, his expression thoughtful. "This could work in our favor."

"How?"

"Public pressure. The more Lillian feels cornered, the more likely she is to make mistakes." He moved toward the door. "Get dressed. We have work to do."

---

At precisely noon, Lillian Todd stepped before a forest of microphones in the Todd Industries lobby. Eleanor stood beside her, looking pale and uncomfortable. Behind them, a row of Todd Industries board members provided a wall of corporate solidarity.

Tracy and Phil watched from his penthouse, the press conference streaming on a large wall-mounted screen.

"Thank you all for coming," Lillian began, her voice steady. "I've called this press conference to address the unfortunate rumors circulating after last night's incident at our family home."

She paused, her expression a perfect mask of dignified concern. "As many of you know, our family recently discovered through DNA testing that the young woman we had raised as Tracy Todd was not, in fact, biologically related to us. This was a shocking and painful revelation for everyone involved, especially my mother, Eleanor."

The camera panned briefly to Eleanor, who managed a tight smile.

"Despite this discovery," Lillian continued, "we offered Tracy a generous settlement and wished her well. Instead, she has chosen to pursue a campaign of defamation against our family, making outrageous accusations and causing scenes at public events."

Tracy clenched her fists as Lillian painted her as unhinged and vengeful. Phil watched her reaction carefully.

"Remember," he said quietly, "this is exactly what we wanted. She's reacting, defending, explaining. Those are positions of weakness."

On screen, Lillian had moved to the business portion of her statement. "In light of these distractions, and to ensure the continued stability of Todd Industries, the board has unanimously voted to accelerate my appointment as CEO, effective immediately. My mother will remain as Chairwoman, but day-to-day operations will now be under my direction."

"That's not what this is about," Tracy muttered. "She's using this situation to seize control of the company faster."

"Of course she is," Phil agreed. "The company gives her access to international shipping, banking relationships, legitimate business fronts—everything the cartel needs for money laundering."

A reporter's voice cut through: "Ms. Todd, can you address the allegations made by Tracy regarding your father Harold's death?"

Lillian's composure slipped for just an instant before she recovered. "Those allegations are completely false and potentially actionable. My father died in a tragic accident, as the police investigation confirmed."

Another reporter called out: "Is it true you struck Tracy Todd at last night's dinner?"

"I reacted emotionally to her disruption of a charity event and her baseless accusations against my family," Lillian admitted smoothly. "It wasn't my finest moment, and I apologize for losing my composure."

The questions continued, but Phil muted the sound, turning to Tracy. "She's good. Very good. But she made a critical mistake."

"What mistake?"

"She publicly acknowledged striking you. That gives us leverage." Phil picked up his phone. "Time for phase two."

---

Three days later, Phil's penthouse buzzed with activity. Security personnel moved efficiently through the space, checking equipment and reviewing protocols. In the center of it all, Phil stood with Tracy, going over final details.

"The engagement party is set for Saturday at The Pierre," he explained. "Guest list of two hundred, including all the major players from Todd Industries, the social elite, and key financial journalists."

"And you're sure Lillian will come?" Tracy asked, studying the seating chart.

"She'll come," Phil confirmed. "Her ego won't allow her to stay away, especially after the invitation made it clear Eleanor would be attending as our special guest."

Tracy looked up sharply. "Eleanor confirmed?"

"This morning. She's... conflicted. The documents we anonymously sent her about Lillian's past have raised serious questions. She wants answers."

A staff member approached with a velvet box. Phil took it, dismissing the man with a nod.

"One more thing," he said, opening the box to reveal a stunning emerald and diamond ring. "If we're announcing our engagement, you'll need this."

Tracy stared at the ring. "It's... enormous."

"It needs to be. Lillian will be watching for any sign that this isn't real." Phil removed the ring from its cushion. "May I?"

Wordlessly, Tracy extended her left hand. Phil slid the ring onto her finger, his touch lingering longer than necessary. The weight of the jewels felt foreign, a tangible symbol of their elaborate deception.

"Perfect fit," Phil murmured, still holding her hand.

Tracy withdrew her hand, uncomfortable with the intimacy of the moment. "Let's focus on what matters. What's the plan for Saturday?"

Phil's expression shifted back to business. "We make our grand entrance, announce our engagement officially, and then the main event begins."

"The recording?"

"Precisely. During my toast, we'll play the poolhouse recording of Lillian threatening Harold, followed by security footage of her leaving just before the fire." Phil's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "With Eleanor and the board members as witnesses, Lillian will have nowhere to hide."

"And if she denies everything?"

"That's where this comes in." Phil produced a small vial containing clear liquid. "Insurance."

Tracy eyed it suspiciously. "What is that?"

"A harmless compound that mimics the symptoms of poisoning—nausea, dizziness, temporary disorientation. I'll have it placed in Lillian's champagne just before the toast."

"You're going to poison her?" Tracy asked incredulously.

"Not poison—distract," Phil corrected. "When she starts feeling ill after your public accusation, it will appear as an admission of guilt. A physical manifestation of her conscience."

Tracy shook her head. "That's insane. And dangerous."

"The effects last thirty minutes, maximum. No lasting harm." Phil pocketed the vial. "Trust me, Tracy. We need something dramatic to break through Lillian's facade."

Before she could argue further, Phil's phone chimed with a message. His expression darkened as he read it.

"What's wrong?" Tracy asked.

"Change of plans," he said tersely. "One of my sources inside the Todd mansion just reported that Lillian has acquired a gun. Registered legally through Todd Industries' security division."

Tracy felt a chill run down her spine. "You think she's planning to use it? At the engagement party?"

"I don't know. But we're not taking chances." Phil turned to Marcus, who stood nearby. "Double the security for Saturday. Full body scans for every guest, discreet but thorough."

Marcus nodded and moved away, already speaking into his communications device.

"Maybe we should postpone," Tracy suggested, a knot of fear forming in her stomach.

Phil shook his head firmly. "No. This ends Saturday. One way or another."

---

The night of the engagement party arrived with a sense of impending climax. Tracy stood before the mirror in her dressing room, barely recognizing the woman who stared back. Her gown was a masterpiece of ivory silk that seemed to flow like water over her curves. Diamonds glittered at her throat and wrists—real ones this time, not the costume jewelry she'd secretly worn during her years as a Todd.

Irina had insisted on one final training session that morning, drilling Tracy on defensive moves she could execute even in evening wear. "Remember," the Russian woman had growled, "always go for eyes, throat, groin. Even in pretty dress, you can kill if necessary."

Not the most comforting pre-party pep talk, Tracy thought wryly.

A soft knock preceded Phil's entrance. He stopped in the doorway, his expression shifting from preoccupation to something warmer as he took in her appearance.

"You look..." he paused, seemingly searching for the right word. "Perfect."

Tracy turned to face him fully, noting how impeccable he looked in his custom tuxedo. "Ready for the performance of a lifetime?"

Phil crossed to her, adjusting the diamond pendant at her throat with careful fingers. "This isn't just a performance anymore, Tracy. Tonight, we end Lillian's charade for good."

His proximity made her pulse quicken—a reaction she attributed to pre-confrontation nerves, nothing more.

"The vial," she said abruptly. "You're not still planning to use it, are you?"

Phil's eyes met hers, unreadable. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether Lillian comes armed." His hand moved from her necklace to cup her cheek gently. "I won't risk your safety. If she's there to hurt you, we change tactics."

Tracy was acutely aware of his touch, of the intensity in his gaze. "And if she's not? If she's just there to save face?"

"Then we proceed as planned. The recording, the public confrontation, Eleanor's realization of the truth." Phil's thumb brushed across her cheekbone. "Either way, after tonight, you'll be free of her shadow."

He leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away. When she didn't, his lips brushed hers in a kiss that felt different from their practiced public displays—softer, more genuine.

When he pulled back, Tracy found herself momentarily speechless. Phil smiled slightly.

"For luck," he said, echoing his words from the Todd dinner. "The car is waiting."

As he turned to leave, Tracy called after him. "Phil?"

He paused in the doorway, looking back.

"Thank you," she said simply. "Whatever happens tonight... thank you for helping me fight back."

Something like genuine emotion flickered across his features before his customary control reasserted itself. "Save your gratitude until after we win," he advised. "We're not done yet."

Tracy nodded, turning back to the mirror for one final check. In her reflection, she saw not the confused, broken woman who had been cast out of the Todd family, but someone stronger, more determined—someone ready for whatever the night might bring.

She touched the emerald ring on her finger, its weight a reminder of the elaborate deception they had constructed. A deception that would end tonight, one way or another.

With a deep breath, she gathered her evening clutch—specially designed by Irina to hold a small defensive weapon—and headed for the door. It was time to confront the woman who had stolen her life and to reclaim what was rightfully hers.

The final act was about to begin.