The Villainess Has a Baby (And He’s the Father)

Poisoned

The encounter in the library left Seraphina with an impending sense of doom. Henderson’s sharp, calculating eyes haunted her sleep, and she knew it was only a matter of time before her enemies reacted to his suspicions. They were rattled. When a traitor grows nervous, they do not wait—they strike to eliminate the threat.

The blow came exactly four days later, wrapped in a package of silk and sweet promises.

"My Lady, a delivery from the Whitmore estate arrived this morning," Eleanor said, entering the bedchamber with a rigid, pale face. She locked the heavy oak door behind her and carefully set a small, polished mahogany box onto Seraphina’s vanity table. "Lady Cassandra’s personal footman brought it. He insisted it was an urgent remedy for your ongoing ailments."

Seraphina stood up from her chair, her heart executing a slow, heavy thud against her ribs.

She approached the vanity as if she were approaching a sleeping predator.

With a steady hand, she flipped open the brass latch of the box. Nestled inside a bed of white satin was a beautiful, frosted glass jar filled with a pale lavender ointment. The moment the lid was lifted, a sweet, rich floral fragrance bloomed in the room—a scent so heavy it made Seraphina’s stomach turn with a sudden, violent wave of morning sickness.

It was exactly what she had anticipated in the library. The memory hit her with the force of a physical blow: in her past life, Cassandra had given her this exact balm. Back then, she had happily rubbed it into her temples every night, completely unaware that it was laced with the rare southern dream-root toxin. It wouldn't kill her, but over weeks of absorption, it would turn her mind foggy, making her paranoid, prone to hysterical outbursts, and unstable in front of the court. It was the perfect setup to make her look like a crazed villainess before the treason letters were found.

"They are moving faster because Henderson is suspicious," Seraphina whispered, her voice a cold, sharp blade. "They want to dull my senses before I can uncover anything more."

"Should I throw it into the fireplace, My Lady?" Eleanor asked, her fingers trembling as she reached for the jar.

"No," Seraphina said sharply, catching Eleanor’s wrist. "If it vanishes, or if I look entirely unaffected and alert when Cassandra next sees me, they will know I suspect the gift. We must make them believe the trap succeeded."

Seraphina looked around the room until her eyes fell on a small, porcelain bowl containing a luxury moisturizing cream she regularly used. "Eleanor, scoop out the top layer of Cassandra's ointment and discard it safely down the waste conduit. Then, refill the jar with my regular cream and mix it with a few drops of lavender oil from my bath supplies. It must look used, and it must smell identical."

As Eleanor hurriedly went to work, Seraphina sat down at her vanity, staring at her reflection in the glass. Her violet eyes were wide, dark, and filled with a cold, maternal ferocity. They were trying to poison her mind while she carried a child. The thought of what that toxic root could have done to her baby made a wave of pure, primal hatred crash through her chest.

An hour later, a soft, polite knock sounded at the door.

"My Lady," the voice of a junior maid called out. "Lady Cassandra has arrived for an unexpected visit. She is waiting in the drawing room."

Seraphina closed her eyes, took a deep, steadying breath, and placed her hands flat over her abdomen. Calm down, she told herself. Play the part.

When Seraphina entered the drawing room, Cassandra was sitting gracefully on a velvet chaise, sipping tea. The moment she saw Seraphina, her face melted into an expression of profound, angelic concern. She rushed forward, her silk dress rustling softly.

"Oh, Seraphina, dearest! You look so terribly pale," Cassandra cried, reaching out to clasp Seraphina’s hands.

This time, Seraphina didn't just pretend to be weak... she leaned into it. She let her eyelids flutter sleepily and allowed her posture to droop slightly. She had purposely applied a layer of white powder to her face to look drained, and she had rubbed a bit of red rouge around her eyes to make them look irritated and bloodshot.

"Cassandra..." Seraphina murmured, her voice slightly slurred and heavy, as if she were dragging the words out of a deep fog. "Thank you for the... the balm. My head has been spinning all morning. I applied it just an hour ago."

Cassandra’s blue eyes flashed with a sudden, sickening spark of absolute triumph. It was a momentary glint of pure satisfaction that she quickly hid behind a mask of pity.

"Oh, I am so glad you used it!" Cassandra purred, gently guiding Seraphina to sit on the couch. She sat close beside her, her fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from Seraphina's forehead. "The dream-root—ah, I mean, the lavender extract—is highly potent. You must use it every single night, Seraphina. It will clear away all your anxious thoughts. You've been acting so strange and stressed lately, looking into things that don't concern you. The balm will make you feel... beautifully empty."

Beautifully empty. The phrase echoed in Seraphina's mind like a threat. Cassandra wanted her brain-dead and compliant.

"Yes," Seraphina whispered, letting her head lean back against the cushions, her eyes unfocused. "Empty. I feel... so tired, Cassandra. Sometimes I can barely remember what I was doing a moment ago."

"That is just the illness leaving your body, darling," Cassandra smiled, her voice dripping with venomous sweetness. She stood up, patting Seraphina’s hand one last time. "Rest now. Don't worry about the Duke, or the palace, or anything at all. Just leave everything to me."

Seraphina watched through half-closed eyes as Cassandra practically floated out of the drawing room, her shoulders light with the joy of a completed mission.

The moment the doors clicked shut, the sleepy, vacant look vanished from Seraphina’s face. She sat up straight, her eyes flashing with a terrifying, deadly clarity. She wiped the fake sweat from her brow and looked toward the window.

The poison had failed, but the war had officially begun. They had tried to take her mind, but they had only succeeded in unlocking her absolute ruthlessness.

"You think you've won, Cassandra," Seraphina whispered fiercely into the quiet room, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. "But you've just handed me the perfect excuse to act erratic, blindside you, and slip away into the night."