My mother poisoned my wine at our family reunion dinner and called me a liability to eliminate — but she had no idea I was CIA trained!
I pulled the rental car up the long driveway of the Vance estate in Atherton, California, the late afternoon sun glinting off the iron gates like a warning I should have heeded. After more than a decade away, I was finally coming home — or so I thought. My mother, Eleanor, greeted me with that…
