The surrounding guests began to whisper frantically, backing away from the white tent as two junior security guards hurried over from the main gate.
Guard 1: Mr. Sterling! Is everything alright? We heard shouting.
Billionaire: Secure Mr. Marcus immediately. Do not let him reach into his jacket or leave the patio grounds.
Marcus: Are you out of your mind?! I am your head of security!
Guard 1: Sir... please keep your hands visible.
Marcus: Get your hands off me! I didn't touch his drink!
Lily: Check his left pocket! The tiny brown glass bottle is still in his left pocket!
Marcus's face drained of color as he instinctively reached his hand toward his inner coat, but the two junior guards lunged forward, grabbing his arms and forcing them behind his back.
Guard 2: Reaching for something, Marcus?
Marcus: Let go of me! This is a setup!
Guard 2 reached into Marcus's left inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small, amber glass bottle with a rubber stopper. The label had been scraped off, but a white powdery residue was visible along the rim.
Billionaire: Well, Marcus? What is in that amber bottle?
Marcus: It's... it's prescription medicine for my blood pressure!
Billionaire: Blood pressure pills do not dissolve into yellow foam on orange juice, Marcus. I may be eighty years old, but I am not stupid.
Lily: Mom! Mom, over here!
A woman in a white catering apron came sprinting through the crowd of guests, her face pale with terror as she saw her daughter standing near the shattered glass.
Sarah: Lily! Oh my sweet girl, what happened to your face?!
Lily: Mom! I stopped the man from hurting the nice grandpa!
Sarah: Who hit you?! Who put a hand on my daughter?!
Billionaire: I am deeply sorry, ma'am. My security guard struck your daughter when she knocked over my drink. But if she hadn't knocked it over, I would be dead on this marble floor right now.
Sarah: Dead?! What are you talking about, sir?
Billionaire: Someone attempted to poison my juice at my own charity gala.