Chapter 10 · Poison on the Marble

Helen’s wrist was under my knee when Owen’s oxfords stopped an inch short of the puddle.

"Who gave you permission to break things in my house?"

I didn’t budge. Behind me, the blue syrup was spitting white bubbles across the marble. Smelled like artificial pear, chemical sweet, and completely rotten. I’d bet my revoked license on what it was.

"Nobody," I said. "Send me the bill. And put gloves on before you touch that cabinet. The blue one. Willa's name is on the label."

Helen bucked under me. My flank flared where the fresh stitches pulled.

"Get this animal off me, Mr. Hale! She attacked me in front of the staff."

"I put you on the floor. That's different." I glanced sideways toward the threshold. "Willa. Honey. Upstairs. Lock the baby gate behind you."

The kid was frozen in the doorway, little white socks soaked in syrup. She looked at Helen. Then at me. Then she turned and ran, quiet as a ghost.

Two maids stood by the pantry with their mouths hanging open.