In a world of polished marble and white pearls, manners are everything. So when a young boy lunged across a banquet table to snatch a glass from an elegant woman's hand, the response was instant: outrage. The woman saw an "ill-mannered child" trying to ruin her evening, and the crowd was ready to cast him out.

Margaret stared at him.

“What do you mean?”

The boy wiped his eyes.

“My mom was allergic.”

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

The little boy swallowed hard.

“She drank juice at a picnic.”

His voice trembled.

“There was a beetle inside.”

A guest frowned.

“A beetle can't kill someone.”

A doctor seated nearby slowly stood.

“Yes, it can.”

Everyone turned.

The doctor adjusted his glasses.

“For people with severe allergies, contamination from certain insects can trigger a fatal reaction.”

Margaret's stomach dropped.

Because she had the same allergy.

A rare one.

Only a handful of people knew.

Including her family.

Including her personal staff.

Including the people who had prepared tonight's event.

The doctor looked at the insect.

“This wasn't an accident.”

A cold chill spread through the room.

The beetle hadn't simply fallen into the drink.

Its wings had been removed.

Its body was partially crushed.

Placed there intentionally.

Margaret's hands began shaking.

Then she noticed something strange.

The boy wasn't looking at her.

He was staring at someone else.

Someone near the back of the ballroom.

His eyes widened.

“That's him.”

The room froze.

“Who?”

The boy slowly raised his finger.

Pointing directly at one of the servers.

A young man holding a silver tray.

The server's face instantly turned white.

And then he ran.