Kamrynn’s POV
The suspicion has been clawing at me for days. I can’t shake the idea that Rmonica’s health is being sabotaged, and my dreams feel like warnings I’d be a fool to ignore. There’s only one way to find out if I’m right, but it’s risky: I need to get hold of Rmonica’s medication from Eloane’s room and have it tested to see if they’re really hypothyroidism medication. If there’s any tampering with her pills, I’ll find it out once and for all.
But there’s a problem. Eloane never leaves her room unlocked. I’ve watched her movements over the last few days, and she’s meticulous, always slipping her keys into her pocket like her secrets would spill out if she let them go for even a moment. Every glance over her shoulder, every smirk she sends my way, tells me she’s on high alert. The woman is hiding something. The only way to know for sure is to get those keys.
If I’m going to do this, I need a solid plan-and I need her to be completely unaware.
After shadowing her for the next two days, I notice that Eloane seems to get lost in conversation with the kitchen staff at lunch, usually while she’s enjoying a tea or a snack. Her keys usually rest just within reach in her pocket while she holds court, chatting about everything from gossip to her “duties” with a smug smile. That’s the only time she’s distracted enough to give me a chance.
As the noon hour arrives, I see Eloane heading toward the kitchen, the keys still tucked into her pocket. Now’s the time. I follow her at a distance, slipping into the busy kitchen behind her, pretending to straighten some jars in the pantry as I watch her take her seat and engage Tiona in conversation. Her keys dangle tantalizingly from her coat pocket.
I take a steadying breath, pushing away the nerves. I need to make this quick.
As I step closer to the counter, Tiona spots me and calls over her shoulder. “Kamrynn, could you bring over that pitcher of water?”
“Yes,” I say, grabbing the pitcher and moving closer. My hand hovers just long enough near Eloane’s pocket, and, barely breathing, I slip my fingers around the keys and lift them out. I can almost feel my heart hammering in my throat as I step back, the cool weight of the key resting in my palm.
Eloane hasn’t noticed. I hold my breath, hoping no one sees the glint of the key as I slip it into my own pocket, then turn and exit the kitchen quietly, making my way down the hallway, each step charged with adrenaline.
I’ve memorized Eloane’s routine so closely that I know it’ll take her at least thirty minutes before she even considers heading back to her room. I don’t waste a second, walking briskly to her door, praying no one sees me or asks why I’m here.
Once I reach Eloane’s door, I double-check the hallway to make sure no one is around. The coast is clear. Sliding the key into the lock, I turn it slowly, relieved when I hear the soft click. I push the door open, slipping inside as quietly as possible and closing it behind me. The heavy scent of her perfume fills the air, mixed with a faint medicinal smell. Her room is immaculate, everything perfectly placed, with not a single speck of dust in sight.
I start by checking the obvious places. The top of her dresser is meticulously arranged, small trinkets and jars lined up like soldiers, but no medication. I open the first drawer, finding neatly folded scarves, then the second, filled with makeup. No pills.
I move to her bedside table, trying not to let my anxiety show as I pull open the top drawer. All I find are a few notebooks, arranged too perfectly. I flip through them quickly, but there’s nothing useful here. The next drawer is empty. Frustrated, I move toward the armoire, where her clothes hang in perfect rows, but no luck there either.
My heart beats faster as I glance around, considering where else she might hide something. Think, Kamrynn. If she’s hiding the pills, she’d want them close but out of sight. I spot a small jewelry box on the vanity, intricately carved and slightly ajar. I open it, but it’s just jewelry, arranged like she wanted it displayed.
I’m running out of options, and I know I don’t have much time. Taking a deep breath, I scan the room again. There’s a small, high shelf near the wardrobe, barely within reach even if I stand on tiptoes. A small wooden box sits up there, dusty and slightly pushed back, almost hidden from view.
Biting my lip, I carefully climb onto the chair by the vanity, reaching up as far as I can to slide the box off the shelf. My fingers brush it, and I give it a little push, just enough to bring it closer to the edge. But as I shift my weight, the edge of the chair wobbles under me, and my thigh scrapes against something sharp jutting from the chair’s wooden frame.
I gasp as pain flares in my thigh, hot and stinging. I glance down and see a thin, bleeding cut on my leg. It isn’t deep, but it’s enough to make me wince. Blood trickles down, leaving a trail on my skin. I carefully lower myself back down and grab my handkerchief, pressing it to the wound to stop the bleeding. The fabric quickly stains, but I dab at it until it stops, wiping any blood from the chair to avoid leaving evidence.
“Get it together, Kamrynn,” I mutter, gritting my teeth against the sting as I press harder on the handkerchief. My heart pounds, half from the pain, half from the ticking clock in my head.
Once the bleeding slows, I tuck the handkerchief back into my pocket and, ignoring the lingering sting, reach up again and finally grab the box from the shelf. Carefully, I lower it down and bring it over to the vanity to examine it closely. I open the lid and, to my relief, spot a small bottle inside with pills almost hidden beneath a layer of tissue. Got it!
Holding my breath, I pull it out, unscrewing the cap as quietly as I can and tipping a few pills into my palm. They’re small, white, and nearly identical, each one smooth and round. At first glance, they look like any standard pill.
But as I look closer, my eyes narrow. There’s a difference-small, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Some pills have a slightly glossier coating, while others are matte. It would be so easy to miss, so easy for someone to think they’re the same, especially if she’s slipping them into Rmonica’s dosage as if they’re identical.
A cold certainty settles over me. She’s poisoning Rmonica.
My hands shake as I put two of each type into a small container I’d brought, tucking it back into my clothes. These need to be tested. If Eloane is switching Rmonica’s medication, this might be the proof I need.
I carefully place the bottle back exactly where I found it. As I glance around to ensure everything looks untouched, I remind myself to keep my movements calm, deliberate. I can’t leave any evidence I was here. I place the box back on the high shelf, carefully retracing my steps to avoid disturbing anything else in the room.
Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I turn to the door, clutching the key tightly as I lock it behind me. I did it.
I’m almost back to the kitchen when I turn a corner and come face-to-face with Eloane. She stands there, arms crossed, her expression darkening as her gaze locks onto mine. I freeze, feeling a wave of panic as she gives me a slow, venomous smile.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the rogue who’s overstayed her welcome.” She purrs, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Would you mind explaining what you were doing in my room just now?”