The Poisoned Orchard

Part 1: The Forbidden Fruit

Chapter 1: The Summit

The world looked different from the terrace of the Vance Estate in Aspen. It looked cleaner. Sharper.

I, Alexander Vance, stood in the freezing night air, wearing a tuxedo that cost more than the average American’s car. Inside the warm, glowing chalet behind me, my new wife, Isabella, was changing out of her wedding gown.

I was forty. I was the CEO of Vance Global, a defense contractor. I dealt in secrets, in steel, and in absolute certainties. I didn’t gamble. I acquired.

And Isabella was my greatest acquisition.

She was twenty-eight. An artist. A creature of light and color who had somehow wandered into my gray, structured life. I loved her with a ferocity that terrified me. I had broken my own rules for her. I had ignored the background checks that showed a messy divorce three years ago. I had ignored the whispers that she was too young, too free-spirited.

“Alex?”

I turned. Isabella stood in the doorway. She was wearing a white silk slip, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. She looked like an angel.

“Come inside,” she whispered. “It’s cold.”

I walked to her. I pulled her into my arms. She smelled of vanilla and rain.

“Are you happy?” I asked, needing to hear it.

“I’m the happiest woman in the world,” she said, kissing my jaw. “I love you, Alexander.”

“I love you, Bella.”

We walked toward the bed. The fireplace crackled. It was perfect.

And then, the intercom buzzed.

“Sir?” It was my head of security, Stone.

I groaned, pulling away from Isabella. I walked to the wall panel. “What is it, Stone? I said no interruptions.”

“I apologize, Mr. Vance. But a courier just arrived. He insists it’s urgent. A wedding gift that was delayed due to the snowstorm. He says it’s perishable.”

“Perishable?” I frowned. “Send it up. But check it first.”

“Already scanned, Sir. It’s… fruit.”

“Fruit?”

Isabella laughed softly. “Maybe it’s from my aunt in Florida. She sends oranges.”

Two minutes later, Stone knocked on the door. He handed me a wooden crate. It was rustic, heavy, and smelled sweet.

I set it on the coffee table.

Isabella sat on the sofa, tucking her legs under her. “Open it.”

I pried the lid off.

Inside, nestled in straw, were apples.

Beautiful, ruby-red apples. They were polished to a shine. Honeycrisp, by the look of them.

“Apples?” I asked. “Who sends apples to a wedding?”

“There’s a card,” Isabella pointed.

A cream envelope lay on top of the fruit.

I picked it up. It was heavy cardstock. I opened it.

I read the handwritten note.

“To Isabella, Congratulations on the wedding. I was thinking about you today. Specifically, about last Tuesday. When you were in my bed, tangling up my sheets, you mentioned you were craving these. Honeycrisps. You said your new husband doesn’t know how to pick good fruit. So, I sent them over. Enjoy the bite. Love always, Lucas.”

Chapter 2: The Freeze

The temperature in the room seemed to drop fifty degrees.

I read the note again.

Last Tuesday. In my bed. Lucas.

Lucas was her ex-husband. A musician. A man she swore she hadn’t spoken to in three years.

Last Tuesday, I had been in D.C. for a briefing. Isabella had told me she was going to a spa day with her bridesmaids.

My hands didn’t shake. I didn’t scream. That wasn’t my way. I went cold. Ice cold. The kind of cold that kills.

I looked at Isabella. She was smiling, reaching for an apple.

“Who is it from?” she asked innocently.

“It’s from Lucas,” I said.

Her hand froze mid-air. Her smile faltered, just a fraction.

“Lucas?” she laughed nervously. “That’s… weird. Why would he send a gift?”

“He says you were craving them,” I said, my voice flat.

“Craving them?”

“He says,” I walked over to her, holding the card out like a weapon, “that you told him you wanted apples while you were in his bed last Tuesday.”

Isabella went pale. “What? That’s insane. Alex, that’s a lie.”

“Is it?”

“Yes! I haven’t seen Lucas in years! I was at the spa on Tuesday! You can check the credit card!”

“I don’t check your cards, Isabella. I trusted you.”

“You should trust me! This is… this is a game. He’s trying to hurt me. He’s jealous!”

I looked at her. I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to believe her.

But Alexander Vance didn’t become a billionaire by believing in fairy tales. He became one by believing in data.

I pulled out my phone. I dialed Stone.

“Stone. Access the security logs for the penthouse. Last Tuesday. 10:00 AM to 6:00 PM. Did Isabella leave?”

Isabella stood up. “Alex, stop. You’re embarrassing me.”

“Stone?”

“Checking now, Sir… Yes. Mrs. Vance left at 10:15 AM. She returned at 4:00 PM.”

“Did the GPS on her car show the spa?”

“One moment… No, Sir. The car was parked on 4th Street. Near the theater district.”

I hung up.

I looked at Isabella. “Lucas lives on 4th Street.”

“I… I went to see a gallery!” Isabella cried. “There’s an art gallery next door! I didn’t see him!”

“You lied,” I said. “You said you were at the spa.”

“I… I didn’t want you to worry! I know you hate that neighborhood!”

“You were in his bed,” I whispered.

“No! Alex, please! He’s lying! He wrote that note to destroy us!”

“He knew you were craving apples,” I pointed to the crate. “Do you crave apples, Isabella?”

She hesitated. Her eyes darted to the fruit bowl in the kitchen, which was empty.

“I… I like apples. Everyone likes apples.”

“You told me you were allergic to apples on our first date,” I said.

She froze.

“I…” she stammered. “I… I grew out of it?”

“Lies,” I said. “Layer upon layer of lies.”

I felt the rage building now, a nuclear reactor melting down behind my ribs. I had given her everything. I had opened my fortress to her. And she had let the enemy in.

I walked to the safe in the closet. I opened it.

I pulled out a document.

The Prenuptial Agreement.

It was thick. It was ruthless. My lawyers had insisted on it.

Clause 14: The Infidelity Clause. In the event of proven infidelity prior to or during the marriage, all assets gifted to the spouse are forfeit. The spouse leaves with nothing.

I walked back to the living room.

“Alex, what are you doing?” Isabella was crying now, tears streaming down her perfect face.

“I’m invoking Clause 14,” I said.

“What?”

“We are divorced,” I said. “As of this moment. I will have the lawyers file the annulment in the morning based on fraud.”

“You can’t!” she screamed. “We just got married! You can’t end a marriage over a basket of fruit!”

“I can end it over betrayal,” I said.

I pointed to the door.

“Get out.”

“It’s snowing! It’s the middle of the night!”

“I don’t care,” I said. “You have ten minutes to pack. And Isabella?”

She looked at me, terrified.

“Leave the ring. Leave the earrings. Leave the dress. Those are my assets.”

Chapter 3: The Eviction

Isabella didn’t pack. She just cried. She begged. She fell to her knees and held my legs.

“Alex, please! I love you! I didn’t do it! Lucas is evil! He’s setting me up!”

I pulled away from her. I felt nothing but disgust.

“Stone,” I called out.

Stone and two other guards entered the room. They looked uncomfortable, but they followed orders.

“Escort Ms. Rossi out of the building,” I said, using her maiden name. “Ensure she takes nothing that belongs to the Vance Estate.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Alex!” Isabella shrieked as Stone gently grabbed her arm. “You’re making a mistake! You’re going to regret this!”

“The only mistake I made was trusting you,” I said.

They dragged her out. She was still wearing the silk slip. Stone grabbed her coat from the rack and threw it over her shoulders as they pushed her out the door.

I heard her screaming in the hallway. Then the elevator dinged. Then silence.

I stood in the center of the room. The fire was still crackling. The apples sat on the table, red and shiny, like mockery.

I picked up the crate.

I walked to the balcony.

I threw it over the edge.

I watched the apples tumble down into the snow, disappearing into the white abyss.

I went back inside. I poured myself a scotch. My hands were steady.

I picked up my phone.

“Call the lawyers,” I told my assistant, who picked up on the first ring despite the hour. “I want the annulment filed by 9:00 AM. And freeze her supplementary cards. Now.”

“Yes, Mr. Vance.”

I hung up.

I looked at the empty bed.

I was alone. Again.

But at least I wasn’t a fool.

Chapter 4: The Aftermath

The divorce was swift. Brutal.

Isabella tried to fight it. She hired a lawyer. She claimed coercion. She claimed I was abusive.

But the “apple letter” and the security logs were damning in the court of public opinion, if not a court of law. I didn’t need to prove she slept with him to enforce the prenup; I just needed to prove she lied about her whereabouts and broke the trust clause.

I used my influence. I buried her in legal fees. She settled within a month.

She walked away with nothing. No alimony. No house. No car.

She moved back into a small apartment with a roommate. She went back to waiting tables, her art career stalled without my patronage.

I tracked her for a while. Not because I cared, but because I wanted to be sure she suffered.

I saw photos of her looking thin, tired, walking in the rain.

I felt a grim satisfaction. Justice had been served.

Six months passed.

I was working in my office. The pain had dulled to a persistent ache. I didn’t date. I didn’t trust anyone.

My intercom buzzed.

“Mr. Vance?”

“Yes?”

“There is a Mr. Lucas Thorne here to see you.”

I froze.

Lucas. The ex-husband. The man who sent the apples.

Why was he here? To gloat?

“Send him in,” I said. My voice was dangerous.

The door opened.

Lucas walked in. He didn’t look like the villain I had imagined. He looked… pathetic.

He was wearing a cheap suit. He looked nervous. He was holding a file.

“Mr. Vance,” he said.

“You have five seconds to explain why I shouldn’t throw you out the window,” I said.

“I came to sell you something,” Lucas said.

“Sell me what? More fruit?”

“No,” Lucas placed the file on my desk. “Information.”

“I don’t need information from you.”

“You do,” Lucas said. “It’s about Isabella.”

“I don’t care about her.”

“You should,” Lucas smiled. It was a greasy, unpleasant smile. “Because I lied.”

I stopped. “What?”

“The note,” Lucas said. “The apples. It was a lie. She wasn’t in my bed. She wasn’t even in my apartment.”

The room spun.

“Explain,” I commanded.

“I saw you two in the paper,” Lucas said. “The engagement. She looked so happy. And rich. And I was… broke. I hated her for moving on. I hated you for having what I didn’t.”

He shrugged.

“So I made it up. I knew she was in the city that day because she posted on Instagram about visiting a gallery near my place. I took a chance. I guessed. I sent the apples because I remembered she hated apples. I thought it would just start a fight. I didn’t think you’d go nuclear.”

He laughed.

“But you did. You did exactly what I wanted. You destroyed her. You did my work for me.”

I stared at him.

Isabella hadn’t cheated.

She hadn’t lied about the allergy—she hated them.

She had been at a gallery.

I had thrown my innocent wife out into the snow because of a lie told by a jealous ex.

“Why are you telling me this?” I whispered.

“Because I’m in trouble,” Lucas said. “Gambling debts. Bad people. I need fifty thousand dollars. If you pay me, I’ll sign an affidavit saying I lied. You can get her back. Maybe.”

He leaned forward.

“She still loves you, you know. I saw her yesterday. She still wears the cheap ring she bought to replace the one you took.”

I looked at Lucas. I looked at the man who had destroyed my life for a laugh.

And I looked at myself. The man who had believed him without question.

“You want money?” I asked.

“Fifty grand. Cash.”

I opened my drawer. I pulled out a gun.

It was a Sig Sauer I kept for protection.

Lucas’s eyes went wide. He raised his hands. “Whoa, hey. I’m just negotiating.”

“I’m not going to shoot you,” I said. I placed the gun on the desk. “That would be too quick.”

I picked up the phone.

“Security,” I said. “Lock the building.”

I looked at Lucas.

“You aren’t leaving,” I said. “Not until we have a chat with the police. Extortion is a felony, Lucas. And so is fraud.”

Lucas turned to run, but my security team was already at the door.

They dragged him out.

I sat alone in my office.

The truth washed over me. The horror of what I had done.

Isabella was innocent.

And I had destroyed her.

I grabbed my coat. I grabbed my keys.

I had to find her.

End of Part 1