Alaric kept his head down, mumbling awkwardly, "Right... right, I know. I'll go get checked when I have the time."
Seraphina watched him, already piecing the puzzle together.
She knew her uncle-in-law fairly well. Despite his typical middle-aged pride, arrogance, and inherent selfishness and cowardice, he would never have the nerve to actually murder someone.
Whatever was in that soup probably wasn't a lethal poison, but it definitely wasn't anything good.
If he was doing something like this, he was undoubtedly taking orders from someone else. And it didn't take a genius to figure out who that was.
Seraphina didn't press him further. She knew that even if she did, Alaric would never tell the truth.
Her eyes darted around the room and landed on the gas stove. In a completely flat tone, she remarked, "I think I smell gas."
Alaric's heart instantly leaped into his throat. Forgetting his panic for a second, he spun around and rushed over to the stove, inspecting it carefully.
"Really?" he muttered, checking the dials. "I'm sure I turned it off tightly. Let me check again."
While Alaric was distracted, Seraphina quickly bent down, snatched a razor-sharp ceramic shard from the floor, and gripped it tightly in her hand.
Then, she silently slipped out of the room.
After thoroughly checking the stove and confirming there was no leak, Alaric finally breathed a sigh of relief.
He turned around, only to realize Seraphina was gone. Panic gripped him again, and he rushed out, calling, "Seraphina? Where did you go?"
But with her out of the room, he couldn't help letting out a long exhale.
He never should have gotten mixed up with Felicity in the first place.
Now he was riding a tiger, completely unable to get off, and the situation was spiraling out of control.

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