The screen flickered to life, illuminating the dark cellar with a soft blue light. On the screen, a high-definition video began to play. It showed Victoria herself, standing in the dark alcove near the kitchen pantry, holding a small glass vial. The video captured every detail in horrifying clarity—Victoria carefully tipping a clear liquid into the exact crystal decanter that now sat on the table beside Arthur. The camera paused on Victoria's face as she used a piece of gold chalk to mark a discrete symbol on the neck of the glass bottle. The background of the video blurred slightly as Clara’s phone speaker emitted a crisp digital tone, signaling the end of the recording. Arthur stared at the screen, his face draining of all color. The anger in his eyes turned into utter disbelief as he looked from the video back to the physical bottle sitting on the table. The small gold mark was clearly visible near the rim. Clara spoke firmly, her voice no longer shaking despite the tears still glistening on her bruised cheek. She marked that decanter with your name, sir. She made sure no one else would drink from it tonight.