“This is absurd,” Richard said, taking another step toward me. “Colonel, surely you can see my daughter is suffering from severe paranoia.”

I looked at Madison, who was pale, her gaze darting between the champagne glass in Hayes’s hand and my father’s jacket pocket.

She looked as if she might faint.

I remembered how she used to follow me around when we were children, always wanting to taste whatever I was eating or drinking.

Even tonight, she had grabbed my water glass earlier, taking a quick sip before handing it back with a grin.

It was an old habit she had never outgrown.

“Madison,” I said softly, keeping my eyes on her. “Did you touch my glass tonight?”

Before she could answer, Richard intervened, his voice losing a fraction of its warmth.

“Leave your sister out of your delusions, Natalie,” he said.

He reached into his breast pocket, his hand moving with a sudden, tense quickness.

“I think we should call Dr. Evans,” Carolyn said, her voice cracking as she stepped between us. “Richard, please. Let’s just go upstairs.”