I Sold My Company For $120 Million And Retired To Santorini. My Nephew Kept Asking About My Will While Holding A Poisoned Bottle Of Wine. I Decided To Play Dead To See His True Colors.

The Hypothetical Betrayal

He walked to the edge of the terrace to where the stone wall met the cliff edge. I followed him.

“Derek, I didn’t mean to snap. I just—”

“It’s fine.”

He stared out at the sunset, hands gripping the railing.

“Uncle Vincent, can I ask you something hypothetically?”

“Sure.”

“If someone, let’s say a person who’d worked hard their whole life, had a chance to secure their future—to never worry about money again—but it meant doing something difficult… would you judge them?”

“That depends on what ‘difficult’ means.”

He turned to face me.

“What if Elena couldn’t handle $120 million? What if she made bad investments and lost it all? Wouldn’t it be better if someone more financially savvy managed it?”

“Elena is perfectly capable.”

“But what if she’s not? What if she’s too much like you? Brilliant at her craft, terrible with money. Wouldn’t it be better if I—”

He stopped himself.

“If you what, Derek?”

He looked at me for a long moment, and I saw it clearly now. It was the calculation, the hunger, and the resentment of a man who’d spent his life watching others succeed while he scrambled for scraps.

“Nothing,”

he said finally.

“Forget I said anything.”

He walked back inside. I stayed there gripping the railing, my heart pounding. I needed proof; I needed to know what he was planning.

The Witness and the Tape

I found Maria in the kitchen.

“You saw something,”

I said quietly.

“At dinner. What was it?”

She shook her head, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Maria, please. I need to know.”

She looked at the doorway, then back at me. In broken English mixed with Greek, she told me she’d seen Derek two hours earlier grinding something into the wine bottle. She’d come from the pantry, and he hadn’t noticed her.

He’d been muttering to himself in English. She didn’t understand all of it, but she caught phrases.

“Just needs to look natural.” “Heart attack at his age isn’t suspicious.” “Finally get what I deserve.”

My blood ran cold.

“Why didn’t you tell me immediately?”

“I was scared. He is your nephew, your family. Who would believe the housekeeper?”

She was right. Without proof, it would be her word against Derek’s, and Elena adored him. She’d never believe her childhood friend was capable of this.

“Maria, do you have security cameras here?”

She nodded.

“In kitchen, hallway. Not terrace.”

“Can you show me the footage from this afternoon?”

We went to her small office. The camera was pointed at the wine rack. The footage was grainy but clear enough.

It showed Derek entering, looking around, and pulling the bottle of Silver Oak from the rack. He set it on the counter and pulled a small vial from his pocket. He ground something into powder, opened the wine bottle with a corkscrew, poured the powder in, and recorked it.

The whole process took 90 seconds.

“Can you save this footage?”

I asked.

“Yes. I send an email? Yes.”

“And Maria, don’t tell anyone about this. Not yet. I need to figure out what to do.”

Confronting the Doubt

I went back to the terrace. Benjamin had left, and Elena was on her phone, probably checking work emails. Derek sat in the corner, watching me with those calculating eyes.

“Elena,”

I said.

“Let’s take a walk.”

We walked down the stone steps toward the pool area.

“Dad, what’s going on? You’ve been acting strange all day.”

How could I tell her? How could I explain that the boy she’d grown up with was trying to kill me?

“I think Derek has a gambling problem,”

I said instead. It wasn’t quite the truth, but it was close to it.

“I think he’s in debt, and I think he’s desperate for money.”

Elena frowned.

“What makes you think that?”

“The questions about my estate, the pushiness about being executor, the—”

I stopped.

“I can’t explain it all now. I just need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

She studied my face.

“Dad, if you’re worried about Derek, why don’t we just cut the trip short? Fly home tomorrow.”

“Because I need to know how far he’ll go. I need proof.”

“Proof of what?”

Before I could answer, Derek appeared on the terrace above us.

“There you guys are! Come on, Uncle Vincent, you can’t skip your birthday entirely. At least let me get a photo of you with the sunset. It’s perfect right now.”

Elena started up the steps, but I caught her arm.

“Wait here.”

“Dad, please.”

I climbed back up alone. Derek was at the edge of the terrace where the stone wall was only waist-high and the cliff dropped away.

“Come on over, Uncle Vincent. The light’s perfect.”

I walked toward him slowly, my senses heightened, watching his body language. He held his phone up, framing the shot.

“A little closer to the edge,”

he said.

“I want to get the whole vista behind you.”

I moved closer. The wall came to my waist. One good push and I’d go over.