Chapter 16: Placebo Strategy

Emerence “Wren” Ashford

The silver spoon scraped against the bottom of the porcelain tea bowl, producing a sharp metallic ring that made the small of my back tense.

“Finish it, darling,” Julian said.

His voice was smooth, like polished velvet wrapped around a blade. He stood by the window of my suite, watching the morning rain streak down the heavy glass of Ashford Manor and blur the gray English countryside beyond it.

“Dr. Thorne  Vane was very specific about your dosage this morning. We can’t have another one of your… episodes, can we?”

Across the bedside table, Lyra sat with her ankles crossed, her doe-like amber eyes wide with carefully practiced concern. She adjusted the cuff of her silk blouse,a blouse I recognized. Julian had bought it for her during their last “business trip” to Paris.

“He’s right, Wren,” Lyra murmured, reaching over to pat my knee with a hand that felt like ice. “You were so restless last night. Wandering down the north corridor, talking to yourself… It broke my heart to watch.”

I looked down at the pale amber tea.

Floating in it was the white powder Julian had carefully stirred in moments ago. The heavy neuroleptic cocktail meant to keep my mind sluggish, my thoughts clouded, and my movements impaired enough to make me appear like a shell of my former self.

For six months, I had been spitting these doses into hidden cloths, flushing them down the drain, or switching them whenever they were not watching me.

But today, Julian’s eyes remained fixed on my face.

He was suspicious.

The tension in his shoulders was a wire pulled tight, ready to snap. If I refused, he would call the orderlies. They would force the medicine down my throat.

My heart started beating faster against my ribs.

Eat it. Act weak. Play the fool.

I lifted the spoon to my lips, making my hand tremble. Half of the fear was real.

The heavy mahogany door swung open.

Dr. Kaelen Thorne-Vane stepped into the room.

At six-foot-three, his presence seemed to fill the entire space. He wore a crisp charcoal suit without a tie, the top button of his shirt undone just enough to reveal the shadow of his collarbone.

His silver-gray eyes swept across the room. Julian stands over me, Lyra’s false sympathy, and the trembling spoon inches from my mouth.

“Stop,” Kaelen said.

The command wasn’t loud, but it carried absolute authority.

Julian turned, his brow tightening with irritation.

“Kaelen. I’m just making sure my wife takes her morning medication.”

Kaelen walked toward the bed, his polished shoes striking the hardwood in a steady rhythm. He didn’t look at me immediately. His attention remained fixed on Julian.

“I adjusted Mrs. Vance’s pharmaceutical profile an hour ago,” he said quietly.

He took the porcelain bowl from my fingers, his thumb brushing mine in the process. The brief contact sent a shiver through me, grounding the panic twisting inside my chest.

“The previous neuroleptic was causing severe neuromuscular tremors and cognitive resistance. If you continue forcing that compound, Julian, her liver function will spike. The board’s medical auditors could then have grounds to strip your power of attorney before the quarter ends.”

Julian froze.

His brownish eyes became smaller as  he searched Kaelen’s face for any sign of deception.

“She needs to be stabilized, Doctor. The Heritage Gala is in two weeks. I cannot have her suffering a psychotic break in front of the press.”

“Which is precisely why I switched her to a pure, micro-dosed neuro-calmative,” Kaelen replied.

He reached into his leather medical bag and pulled out a small amber vial filled with chalk-white capsules. He opened it and poured two into his palm.

I stared at the pills.

My breath caught.

Are those real?

Did he betray me?

I kept shivering in fear.

Kaelen knew I was sane. He knew I had been faking my deterioration. But was this a trap? Had he been playing both sides, waiting for the right moment to hand me back to Julian?

“These will maintain her emotional equilibrium without the visible physical degradation,” Kaelen explained.

He held the capsules out to me.

Then his silver eyes met mine.

Beneath the professional detachment, something flickered in their depths.

Trust me.

The words echoed silently in my mind.

Trusting anyone in this house was a death sentence.

But as I looked at Kaelen, the faint scar near his collarbone, the steady strength in his frame,I realized I had already stepped off the cliff with him.

I took the capsules from his palm.

Our fingers lingered against each other for a moment. His skin was warm and rough against mine.

I placed the pills on my tongue.

Kaelen handed me a fresh glass of water from his bag.

Julian watched me swallow it.

“There,” Kaelen said softly.

He took the empty glass from my hand, then touched my jaw under the pretense of checking my pulse. For a brief second, his touch softened, his thumb brushing the sensitive curve beneath my ear.

I started feeling heat all over my body.

“Her vitals are stabilizing already. I require the room cleared for her morning evaluation.”

Julian hesitated.

His jaw flexed as he looked between Kaelen and me, clearly sensing that something had shifted but unable to identify what.

“Ten minutes, Doctor. Then Lyra and I need to review the trust fund documents.”

Lyra gave me a thin smile before following Julian out.

The heavy oak door closed behind them.

The lock clicked.

Silence settled over the suite.

I immediately straightened my body  posture of the “mad heiress.”

“What did you just give me?” I whispered, my voice tight with the panic still lingering in my chest.

Kaelen turned toward me.

The icy, stoic doctor disappeared.

In his place was the man whose dark chestnut hair fell slightly over his forehead, whose intense gaze made it difficult to breathe.

He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out an identical amber vial, and tossed it onto the plush duvet.

“Sugar and cellulose,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. “Pressed placebos. I made them in my private lab last night.”

My breath caught.

“Placebos?”

“You don’t have to flush your medicine anymore, Wren.”

He stepped closer until his knees touched the edge of my mattress. Then he leaned down, placing his hands on either side of my thighs and trapping me beneath his shadow.

The scent of rain, cedarwood, and clean linen surrounded me.

“From today on, I’m the only one who handles your medication. They won’t poison you again.”

His eyes held mine.

“I won’t let them.”

Emotion rose suddenly in my chest, threatening the walls I had spent six months building.

For half a year, I had been completely alone, fighting a silent war in the dark. Every cup of tea and every glass of water carried the fear that one day, the drugs would finally erase my mind for good.

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered.

My voice trembled as I looked into his silver eyes.

“You came here for revenge against my family. I'm Ashford, Kael.”

“You’re not them,” Kaelen said fiercely.

He lifted one hand and gently held my cheek. His rough fingers against my soft skin made my eyes move quickly shut for a moment.

“You’re the woman fighting for her life in a snake pit. And God help me, Wren… I can’t let them destroy you.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“I’m going to get you out of here. But until then, you rely on me.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Only me.”

My hands found the lapels of his suit jacket. I gripped the fabric as though he were the only solid thing left in a world that was falling apart around me.

Two broken souls.

Two enemies bound by vendettas, burning in secret.

Then

A strong clear noise came from the wall behind my bed.

The hidden passage once used by the estate’s old servants.

A soft mechanical click rattled the wood panel beside Kaelen.

His eyes focused toward the hidden door.

His entire body went rigid.

Someone was standing on the other side of the wall.

And they had been listening to every single word.