“I changed the nipple after an episode three nights ago.
The inside smelled medicinal.
I sealed it.
The second one came from Sunday night.”
Clara folded her arms.
“She is a nursing student, not a toxicologist.”
“No,” Lina said.
“That is why I did not accuse anyone.
I documented the timing and preserved what I found.”
She pointed to Aurelia’s bracelet.
“This was wedged beneath the lining of the old hospital bag in the nursery closet.
It has the same dried residue around the clasp.”
My stomach tightened.
Aurelia had worn that bracelet during her final four days.
The hospital had ruled her death a sudden postpartum cardiac event.
Dr.
Adrian Vela had explained it in a calm voice while I sat beside an empty bed and tried to understand how a healthy woman could disappear between one sunrise and the next.
“Why does your notebook say Aurelia wasn’t the first target?” I asked.
Lina finally looked at me.
“Because you were.”
Clara’s expression did not change, but her fingers curled against the sleeves of her robe.
I heard the rain striking the glass wall behind us.
“That makes no sense,” I said.
“Did you have unexplained blackouts during the last months of Aurelia’s pregnancy?”
I said nothing.
The answer was yes.
Three times, I had awakened in places I did not remember reaching.
Once in the library.
Once on the floor of Aurelia’s music room.
Once in the back seat of my car after missing an emergency board meeting.
Dr.
Vela had blamed exhaustion.
Clara had blamed pressure.
The board had quietly started discussing whether I was stable enough to lead the company.
Lina watched my face and knew she was right.
“Aurelia noticed,” she said.
“She left something in the music room.”
Clara moved toward the door.
I stepped into her path.
“What did she leave?”
“A sealed envelope behind the lower panel of the piano bench.
I found it yesterday while looking for the spare monitor batteries.
It has your name on it.”
“You opened my wife’s things?”
“No.
I photographed the envelope where it was and put it back.”
Clara shook her head.
“This is a performance.
She knows you are rich.
She knows you are grieving.
She is building a story you want to believe.”
A fist struck the front door downstairs.
My security team announced themselves through the intercom.
Clara’s eyes flicked toward the bottle.
Lina saw the movement.
So did I.
