Chapter 15 You Are Wrong
Veyra looked at Dorian.
He was still standing there, still watching, still unreadable. His grandmother’s life was in his hands. His grandmother’s life was in her hands.
"Dorian," she said. "Please. I know what I’m doing."
Marcus snorted. "You know what you’re doing. That’s rich."
The aunt, Eleanor, stepped forward. Her husband, Richard, followed. Eleanor was tall and thin with sharp features and sharper eyes. She spread her arms, blocking the path to the old woman.
"If you want to inject her with that poison," Eleanor said, "you’ll have to go through me."
Richard nodded. His face was red. "We won’t let you kill her."
"I’m trying to save her." Veyra’s voice cracked. She hated that it cracked. "Please. You don’t understand. Every second we wait, her brain is dying. She’s already been down for almost two minutes. She has maybe three minutes left before the damage is irreversible."
No one moved.
Dorian moved.
He walked past Celeste. Past Marcus. Past Eleanor and Richard. He stopped in front of Veyra. His gray eyes looked into hers.
"If you’re wrong," he said, "if she dies because of this—"
"She won’t."
"If she dies," he said again, "I will never forgive you."
She understood what he was not saying. I will destroy you.
"I’m not wrong," she said.
He held her gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded.
"Do it."
Celeste screamed.
"You can’t be serious! Dorian, she’s going to kill her! She’s going to—"
"I said do it." Dorian’s voice was ice. He turned to face the room. "If anyone has a problem with my decision, you can take it up with me. After my grandmother is stable."
Eleanor stepped forward. Her arms were still spread. "I won’t let her. Richard and I won’t let her. We’ll stand here all day if we have to."
Dorian looked at her. His expression did not change.
"Move," he said.
"No."
"Move, or I will move you."
Eleanor’s chin lifted. "You wouldn’t dare."
Dorian took a step toward her. Then another. Eleanor held her ground for exactly two seconds. Then she stepped aside. Richard followed. Their faces were white.
Celeste did not move.
She stood in front of the old woman like a guard dog. Her arms crossed. Her chin lifted. Her frozen face set in hard lines.
"You’ll have to go through me too," Celeste said.
Dorian looked at her. "Celeste. Move."
"I’m protecting this family. From her." Celeste pointed at Veyra. "She’s a stranger. A nobody. She has no medical training. No credentials. No license. If you let her do this, and something goes wrong, it’s on you. The whole family will hold you responsible. The board will hold you responsible. Your father—"
"My father is not here." Dorian’s voice was quiet. Deadly. "My father has not been here for thirty years. You married him for his money. You don’t get to pretend you care about this family now."
Celeste’s face went red. "How dare you—"
"Move. Or I will have security remove you. In front of everyone."
The room was silent. Everyone was watching. Servants. Family members. People Veyra did not recognize.
Celeste did not move.
Dorian raised his hand. Two security guards appeared from nowhere. They flanked Celeste. One of them touched her elbow.
"Ma’am," he said. "Please step aside."
Celeste’s face contorted. For a moment, Veyra thought she was going to scream. Instead, she stepped back. Her heels clicked on the marble. Her arms uncrossed.
"Fine," she said. "But when she kills your grandmother, don’t come crying to me."
Dorian turned to Veyra. "Do it."
Veyra knelt beside the old woman.
Her hands were shaking but she steadied them. She had done this before but it was not on a person but on herself and on lab animals and also on samples in the small makeshift lab she had built in the apartment’s second bedroom while Caspian was at work.
But never on a dying woman in front of a big audience.
She swabbed the old woman’s arm. She found a vein. A thin, fragile thing, blue against pale skin.
She inserted the needle.
The old woman did not flinch. She was barely conscious now. Her eyes were half open, unseeing. Her lips were almost purple.
Veyra pushed the plunger. The liquid went in. Clear. Thicker than water. She had made it herself. Distilled it, tested it and trusted it.
She withdrew the needle. Applied pressure. Taped a piece of gauze over the site.
Then she sat back on her heels and waited.
The room was silent. No one breathed. No one moved.
Dorian stood beside her. His hand was on his grandmother’s shoulder. His face was still unreadable. But she saw his knuckles and thry were white and clenched.
Five seconds.
Ten seconds.
Nothing happened.
Celeste’s voice came from somewhere behind her. "See? Nothing. She injected her with water. Or poison. Or—"
The old woman convulsed.
It was sudden and violent. Her back arched off the floor. Her arms flailed. Her mouth opened and white foam poured out, bubbling over her lips, running down her chin.
Veyra’s heart stopped.
No. No, no, no.
She had calculated the dosage. She had accounted for the old woman’s weight, her age, her medical history. She had run the numbers three times. Four times. She had been so careful.
What did I miss?
The room exploded.
Eleanor was screaming. Something about poison. Something about murder. Celeste was shouting for someone to call the police. Marcus was backing away, his face pale, his hands raised like he was surrendering.
And then Eleanor’s hand came out of nowhere.
The slap cracked across Veyra’s face. Her head snapped to the side. Her cheek burned. She tasted blood.
"You killed her!" Eleanor shrieked. "You killed Mother Thorne! You poison—"
Veyra did not hear the rest.
Because Dorian’s hand was around her throat.
He lifted her.
Her feet left the ground. Her back hit the wall. His fingers pressed into her neck, cutting off her air. His face was inches from hers and his gray eyes were wild and unrecognizable.
"What did you do?" His voice was a growl. Low. Animal. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?"