Chapter 3

A week later, Veronica staged her drama.

She collapsed at breakfast, clutching her stomach, moaning in pain.

"Ethan! Help me!" she cried, her voice weak.

Ethan rushed to her side, his face a mask of concern.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I... I think I've been poisoned," Veronica gasped, looking pointedly at me.

Eleanor was instantly at her other side.

"Poisoned? Elara! What have you done?" Eleanor's voice was sharp, accusatory.

"I haven't done anything," I said, my voice steady despite the outrage. I stood up to assess Veronica, my paramedic instincts kicking in.

"Don't you touch her!" Eleanor shrieked. "You've done enough!"

Ethan looked at me, his eyes filled with suspicion. "Elara, did you...?"

"Of course not, Ethan! Why would I?"

"She's jealous!" Veronica choked out. "Jealous of me and Ethan! Jealous of my position!"

Then, as if on cue, one of the maids "found" a small, opened packet of a specific coagulant from my advanced medical kit near Veronica's chair. It was something I'd used to help a ranch hand with a severe nosebleed a few weeks prior, something that had drawn Eleanor's suspicious questions about my "unusual" medical supplies.

"See!" Eleanor cried triumphantly. "Her strange medicines! She tried to harm Veronica!"

Ethan stared at the packet, then at me. His face hardened.

"Elara, Veronica is in agony. If you did something, you need to fix it. Now. Give her the antidote."

"There's no poison, so there's no antidote," I said calmly. "She's faking. Let me examine her."

"No!" Eleanor blocked me. "You will not harm her further!"

Ethan grabbed my arm. "Elara, I swear, if anything happens to Veronica because you're being stubborn..."

An idea sparked. A desperate, risky idea.

"Alright," I said, meeting Ethan's gaze. "I might have something that could help 'counteract' what she might have ingested, if it was indeed something from my kit."

It was a lie, but they were desperate.

"But I'll only help if you sign these." I pulled the divorce papers from my pocket. I'd been carrying them, waiting for a moment, any moment.

Ethan stared at the papers, then at Veronica, who was now writhing dramatically on the floor.

"You want a divorce *now*?" he hissed. "Veronica could be dying!"

"Sign them, Ethan," I said, my voice cold. "Or find another way to 'cure' her."

Eleanor looked like she was about to explode. "How dare you!"

But Ethan was looking at Veronica. Fear was etched on his face. He was completely taken in by her act.

He snatched the papers and a pen I offered.

He didn't even read them. He scribbled his name on the signature line.

"There," he said, thrusting them back at me. "Now help her!"

I took the papers, my heart pounding. Freedom.

I knelt beside Veronica. "Let me see, Veronica."

I made a show of checking her pulse, her pupils. She was a good actress, I'll give her that. Her pulse was slightly elevated, probably from the exertion of her performance.

"It seems like a severe allergic reaction," I improvised, "to something... unusual."

I went to my medical kit, pulled out a simple antihistamine tablet. "This should help neutralize it."

Veronica, with a great show of reluctance, swallowed it.

Within minutes, she began to "recover," her moans subsiding.

Eleanor, however, was not appeased.

"This doesn't change the fact that you tried to harm her, Elara!" she declared. "You are a danger!"

Maria, the housekeeper who had been with the family for years, suddenly spoke up. I had always been kind to Maria, sensing her quiet unhappiness in this house.

"Mrs. Caldwell," Maria said, her voice trembling. "I... I saw Mrs. Hayes near Miss Veronica's juice this morning. She was... stirring something into it."

I stared at Maria, shocked. Betrayal. Eleanor must have gotten to her, threatened her or bribed her.

Eleanor smiled, a cold, triumphant smile.

"You see, Ethan? Even the staff witnessed her treachery."

Ethan looked at me, his face a mixture of anger and disgust. "I can't believe you, Elara."

"I didn't do it, Ethan!"

"Enough!" Eleanor commanded. "She needs to be punished. For attempting to harm a member of this family."

Eleanor wanted me locked away, declared insane. But perhaps even she knew that might be too much, too quickly.

"She will kneel in the courtyard," Eleanor decreed. "From sunrise to sunset. To reflect on her wickedness. Sheriff Brody will be informed of her instability."

Ethan didn't object. He looked at me with cold eyes. "Consider this my protection, Elara. Mother wanted far worse. This will teach you a lesson."

So, this was his "protection." Public humiliation. Forced penance for a crime I didn't commit, based on a lie he chose to believe.

The next day, I knelt on the cold stones of the Caldwell estate courtyard. The sun beat down on me.

Servants whispered as they passed.

That evening, Ethan came to my room. I was exhausted, my knees raw.

He had a glass of water and a small vial in his hand.

"Drink this," he said, his voice softer than it had been. "Dr. Peterson said it will help you... with your nerves. Prevent any lasting emotional imbalance from... everything."

He tried to sound caring.

I looked at the vial. I recognized the drug. It wasn't a mood stabilizer. It was a powerful hormonal agent, sometimes used off-label, known to cause severe imbalance, and in high doses, potential infertility.

Eleanor's doing, no doubt. Delivered by her son's hand.

The ultimate betrayal. Destroying any chance of me bearing a "Caldwell heir" ever again.

I looked at Ethan. The man I had loved was truly gone. Replaced by this hollow shell, this puppet.

A bitter smile touched my lips.

"Thank you, Ethan," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "How thoughtful."

I took the vial from his hand.

He watched me, a flicker of something – relief? – in his eyes. He probably thought I was finally being compliant.

I knew what it was. I knew what it would do.

And in that moment, I didn't care.

Let them have their victory. Let them sever every tie.

I drank it.

The liquid was bitter.

I handed the empty vial back to him.

A few hours later, the cramping started. Severe, debilitating.

Worse than any period pain I'd ever imagined. It felt like my insides were being torn apart.

I lay curled on my bed, sweating and shaking.

The physical manifestation of their cruelty. Irreversible.

Ethan came in later, saw me writhing.

"Elara? What's wrong?" He looked genuinely alarmed. Perhaps he didn't know the full extent of what that drug would do, or how quickly.

He reached out to touch my forehead.

I flinched away.

"It hurts," he whispered, seeing my pain. "I'm sorry it hurts."

His sorrow was superficial. Meaningless.

I felt nothing for him anymore. Just a vast, cold emptiness.

He was a stranger. A cruel, weak stranger.