ol of the situation. "Mrs. Sinclair, perhaps I should hand

n Hadley's pajama top with an unnerving efficiency. "Nonse

ed his teeth didn't crack under the pressure. Her plan was working perfectly: she w

ong his ribs, checking under his arms, probing the muscles along his spine as Mr. Hayes helped keep him rolle

assing second. Her touch was less like a wife's c

"Please, Mrs. Sinclair, allow me. It is my duty." He was now genu

s injection sites, relented. She had achieved her primary go

nds on a towel. "But I'll be mo

e it out of the way for Mr. Hayes. Her thumb na

second hand on the wall clock. Hadley felt the professional stillness

ull m

ow heart rate. Another classic sign of chronic poisoning, perfe

eniable. Someone was

t was one thing. But if she could cure him... if she could be t

uld have no more hold over her. She could demand anything. Her gr

as no longer just about e

bringing in an outside doctor. It ha

to the conservatory to get some fres

und what she needed: activated charcoal from the industrial-grade water filters, and from the small herb garden just o

nts together, adding a bit of honey from the breakfast tray to act as a binding agent. She created a crude, dark paste. It wasn't a perfect antidote, but it was a

she saw Mr. Hayes being called away by a

room, the dark paste in a sma

ry," she murmured, as if comfor

, fighting her with a strength that was surprising. She misto

aste onto his tongue, stroking his throa

diate change. A flicker of disappointment went

st treated was analyzing the bitter, earthy taste in his mouth, his min