The moonlight spilled through the high, arched windows of the isolated west wing, casting long, skeletal shadows across the cold marble floor of the Vane Manor conservatory.
Bound securely to a carved wooden chair, Clara, Evelyn’s once-trusted head maid, gasped for air. Sweat beaded along her brow, and her pupils were dilated to pinpoint black dots. Across from her sat Lady Evelyn Vane, casually swirling a small crystal vial containing the remaining droplets of a colorless, odorless liquid.
It was Veritas Drop—the very truth-serum poison Clara had once slipped into Evelyn’s nightly tea in her past life.
"Your heart rate is accelerating, Clara," Evelyn said, her voice smooth, dangerously calm. She set the vial down on a silver tray with a quiet clink. "You know better than anyone how the
