Chapter 62 Get Poisoned
Aelira’s POV
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My heart pounds as Dr. Nyven Leyric’s words reverberate in my thoughts.
The phone call has left me in shock, my mind spinning with implications far too grim to fully grasp.
“Aelira? Did you hear what I said?”
I blink, becoming aware of Daelor’s voice next to me. We have stopped at a traffic light, his silver–gray eyes filled with concern as they search mine.
“I’m sorry,” I reply, shaking my head slightly. “I was reflecting on what Dr. Leyric just mentioned.”
The light turns green, and the car moves forward smoothly under Daelor’s
skillful handling.
“What did he say exactly?” Daelor inquires, his deep voice slicing through my chaotic thoughts. Julia
I inhale deeply, attempting to piece together the fragmented information.
“He suspects that Esther Riven was poisoned,” I respond, feeling the
weight of the words as I speak. “The toxicology report indicated traces of
silver moonshade in her body.”
Daelor grips the steering wheel more firmly, his knuckles turning pale.
“Silver moonshade? That’s uncommon,” he observes, his voice steady. “It’s
particularly lethal to werewolves, especially the older ones.”
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I agree with a nod, my gaze fixed on the windshield without truly focusing
on the road ahead.
“But who would want to poison Esther? She’s always been so kind to
everyone. She doesn’t have any enemies,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
Daelor remains silent for a significant moment, deep in thought as he
maneuvers through the morning traffic.
“You mentioned that Cyrinne was the first to discover Esther when she
collapsed, correct?” he finally poses.
The realization strikes me like a physical impact. Of course. Cyrinne.
“You make a point,” I exhale, my thoughts racing as connections form.
“Cyrinne stands to gain the most from Esther’s condition. Esther was the
primary obstacle to her relationship with Alarion.”
Esther has always seen through Cyrinne’s manipulative tendencies, openly
supporting me as Luna despite her husband’s opposition.
“If Cyrinne succeeded in eliminating Esther…” I continue, the dreadful logic becoming clearer.
“She’d have one less obstacle between her and her ambitions,” Daelor
completes my thought.
I turn to him, feeling gratitude swell within me.
“Thank you,” I express sincerely. “I doubt I would have made that
connection so quickly.”
A small smile forms on his lips. “I can have some contacts investigate
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Cyrinne’s activities and purchases from the past few months. Silver moonshade isn’t something you find at a local herb shop.”
His offer deeply resonates with me. Even after our awkward encounter the previous night–which we both silently agreed to ignore–he’s still inclined
to assist me.
“I would appreciate that,” I reply quietly.
We arrive in front of Verdant Moon Herbalists, the usual storefront
providing no solace today.
“I’ll keep you posted on what we discover,” Daelor assures, his silver–gray eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my heart race.
I nod, unable to maintain eye contact for too long. The memory of his lips
on mine lingers too vividly and too disturbingly.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say hurriedly, grabbing my bag and opening the
door.
As I watch him drive away, a plan begins to take shape in my mind. I can’t
wait for others to uncover the truth. I need to take matters into my own
hands.
With resolve, I stride into Verdant Moon Herbalists, heading directly to my
manager’s office.
“I need to take a half–day leave,” I state without preamble. “Family
emergency.”
Twenty minutes later, I find myself in a taxi bound for the Riven family
estate.
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Chapter 62 Get Poisoned
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The familiar gates of the pack house rise before me, feeling both known
and foreign. Had it truly been less than a month since I last left this place?
It seems like years have passed.
The security guard at the entrance blinks in surprise upon seeing me.
“Luna–I mean, Ms. Sunmere,” he corrects himself awkwardly. “We weren’t
expecting you.”
I force a smile. “Alarion asked me to collect some personal items I left
behind.”
The bitter taste of the lie lingers on my tongue, yet gaining entry to the compound is essential.
The guard pauses, clearly uncertain of the appropriate response in this
scenario.
“I’ll be in and out in no time,” I reassure him. “I’m certain Alarion mentioned
my visit.”
Fearing that contacting Alarion could reveal my deception, the guard
hesitantly opens the gate.
“Thank you,” I say, passing him with as much confidence as I can muster.
The garden path leading to the main house has been entirely transformed.
The exquisite roses and moonflowers that Esther cherished are replaced
by gaudy sculptures and unrealistic floral displays.
Cyrinne’s influence is evident. I feel a wave of anger at how swiftly she’s
erased Esther’s essence from this home.
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Oddly enough, the usually vibrant pack house feels empty. I had
anticipated running into at least a few pack members, possibly even
Alarion. The stillness is unsettling.
Seizing the opportunity presented by the emptiness, I hurry through the
familiar hallways to the second floor, where Esther’s room is situated.
I grasp the doorknob, only to find it secured with a lock. Scowling, I try
again.
“Who’s out there?” Roderic Riven’s voice erupts from inside, filled with
anger.
My heart races into my throat. I hadn’t foreseen his presence here.
Before I can choose to answer or flee, he throws the door open.
Roderic Riven stands before me, his amber eyes–so reminiscent of
Alarion’s–widening in disbelief before narrowing menacingly.
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“You,” he hisses, attempting to slam the door shut again. “What brings you
here?”
In the fleeting moment the door remains open, I catch a glimpse of another
figure inside a woman whose features elude me.
“Alarion sent for me,” I lie effortlessly, though rage simmers within me. “He
mentioned I could retrieve my remaining belongings.”
I strive to stay composed. Investigating Esther’s poisoning must take
precedence over confronting Roderic.
“You’re lying,” Roderic growls, his Alpha aura expanding menacingly.
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“Alarion would never welcome you back here. You’re trying to steal from
us.”
Before I can object, he shoves me roughly, the force causing me to
stumble against the opposite wall.
Pain jolts through my abdomen with the impact. I gasp and instinctively clutch my stomach, a surge of fear for my unborn pup eclipsing everything
else.
“What’s going on here?” Another familiar voice echoes from the hallway’s
end.
Dorothy, the elderly housekeeper known for her kindness, hurriedly makes
her way toward us, surprising me with her speed.
“Oh dear, are you alright, child?” she asks, concern etched on her
weathered face as she helps me regain my balance.
The pain fades as swiftly as it appeared, leaving a dull throb. I take a
steadying breath, cautiously loosening my grip on my belly.
“I’m okay, Dorothy,” I reassure her, relieved that the pup seems unharmed.
“She was trying to break into Esther’s room,” Roderic accuses, still blocking
the entrance.
Dorothy’s gaze shifts between us, clearly evaluating the situation.
“Mr. Riven, perhaps I should accompany Ms. Sunmere to gather her belongings?” she proposes diplomatically. “I believe some of her items are
still in her old den on the third floor.”
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Roderic appears as if he wants to argue, but ultimately exhales an annoyed
huff.
“Fine. But ensure she takes nothing that doesn’t belong to her,” he commands before retreating into Esther’s room and slamming the door.
Dorothy gently places her hand on my arm, leading me toward the stairs.
“Are you really okay, dear?” she whispers as soon as we are out of
Roderic’s hearing range.
I nod, but my hand remains protectively over my belly.
“Thank you, Dorothy,” I say earnestly while we ascend to the third floor.
My old room with Alarion remains untouched, as if it has been paused in
time. The clothes I left behind still hang in the closet, and the books !
couldn’t take are neatly arranged on the shelves.
Dorothy stands in the doorway, observing me as I move about the space,
acting as though I am deliberating what to pack.
“You didn’t come here for clothes, did you?” she questions unexpectedly,
her voice barely above a whisper.
I turn to face her, taken aback by her intuition.
Dorothy’s faded blue eyes, still keen despite her age, lock onto mine
unwaveringly.
“What are you truly searching for, child?” she inquires, glancing back to
confirm that we are alone.
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