The next morning, the sun streamed into the East Wing, but the atmosphere was heavy with something unseen.
Victoria sat at her vanity, searching for her prenatal vitamins. She had left the bottle right next to her hairbrush.
It was gone.
“Elena?” Victoria called out.
The new maid–a woman with sharp eyes named Elena–entered. She had been hired specifically by Cynthia Sharpe.
“Yes, Ma’am?”
“My medication. It was right here.”
Elena frowned, a look of perfect, practiced confusion. “I haven’t seen any medication, Mrs. Croft. Perhaps you left it in the bathroom? You were quite… disoriented yesterday.”
Victoria blinked. “I wasn’t disoriented. I put it right here.”
“I’ll check the bathroom,” Elena said soothingly, like one speaks to a child. She returned a moment later, holding the bottle. “Here it is. Behind the towels. You must have moved it.”
Victoria stared at the bottle. She hadn’t been in the bathroom since last night. A cold prickle of fear ran down her spine.
“I didn’t put it there,” Victoria whispered.
“Of course,” Elena smiled, a tight, patronizing expression. “Pregnancy brain is very real, Ma’am. My sister forgot her own name once. I’ll make sure to log this… lapse. For the doctor.”
Victoria looked at her reflection. She looked tired. Was she forgetting things? Or was the house itself trying to convince her she was unfit?