Chapter 18 Guilty Until Proven Innocent
Dr. Harrison cleared his throat.
"If I may," he said. He stepped forward, his small frame somehow taking up space. "There is a way to determine whether the medication is commercially manufactured or homemade."
Eleanor’s head snapped toward him. "What do you mean?"
"Commercial medications have certain markers. Preservatives. Stabilizers. Specific pH levels that are standardized across batches. A homemade formulation would lack those markers. It would have a different chemical signature."
Eleanor’s smile returned. "So we can test it."
"Yes," Dr. Harrison said. "I can take a sample to my lab. I should have results by tomorrow morning."
Veyra felt something cold settle in her stomach. She had nothing to hide. She knew that. But the way Eleanor was looking at her—like a cat looking at a mouse—made her feel like she had already lost.
"Fine," Veyra said. "Test it."
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. "You’re eager."
"Because I have nothing to hide."
"We’ll see about that." Eleanor turned to Dr. Harrison. "Is there a visible difference? Between a commercial vial and a homemade one?"
Dr. Harrison hesitated. "Sometimes. Commercial vials have printed labels. Batch numbers. Expiration dates. Homemade vials are usually unmarked or hand-labeled."
Eleanor’s smile widened.
She walked toward Veyra. Her hand shot out and grabbed Veyra’s bag before Veyra could react. The strap broke. The bag fell and contents spilled across the marble floor.
Veyra’s notebook. Her pens. A small pouch of dried herbs. Her wallet. A few loose coins. And—
A sanitary pad.
It landed at Dorian’s feet.
Veyra’s face went hot. The room went quiet and she saw Marcus cover his mouth. She saw Celeste’s frozen face crack into something that might have been a smirk. She saw Eleanor’s smile grow even wider.
"Well," Eleanor said. "How embarrassing."
Veyra dropped to her knees. She scrambled to gather her things. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely pick them up. The notebook. The herbs. The—
Dorian bent down. He picked up the sanitary pad. He looked at it for a moment. Then he handed it to her without a word. His face did not change.
But the damage was done. She could feel it. The way people were looking at her now. Like she was trash. Like she was nothing.
"Looking for this?" Eleanor held up the metal box.
Veyra’s heart stopped.
"Give that back," Veyra said. She stood up. Her voice was shaking. "That’s mine."
"Not anymore." Eleanor walked to Dr. Harrison and pressed the box into his hands. "Test it. Compare it to a commercial sample. And tomorrow, we’ll all know the truth."
Veyra took a step forward but Marcus blocked her path.
"Don’t," he said. "You’ve caused enough trouble."
"I haven’t caused anything—"
"You’ve caused plenty." Celeste’s voice came from behind her. "You’ve disrupted this family. You’ve stressed out an old woman. You’ve made a spectacle of yourself. And now you’re going to stand there and wait for the truth to come out."
Veyra looked around the room. At Celeste’s frozen face. At Marcus’s red cheeks. At Eleanor’s sharp smile. At Richard’s empty eyes. At the servants pretending not to watch and finally at the old woman, still on the floor, her eyes half-closed.
And then she looked at Dorian.
He was still standing beside his grandmother. His hand was still on her shoulder. His gray eyes were still unreadable.
He did not defend her.
He did not say a word.
Dr. Harrison left with the metal box.
The butler escorted him out. The door closed. And then every eye in the room turned back to Veyra.
She felt them. Cold. Sharp. Like surgical probes. Like she was a specimen on a slide and they were deciding whether to cut her open.
No one spoke.
But they did not need to. Their faces said everything. Disgust. Mockery. Disdain. Scorn. Laid bare and completely unmasked.
She had saved a woman’s life. She had brought her back from the edge of brain death. And yet they were looking at her like she had tried to kill her.