Chapter 3: What the Tablets Already Knew
The guests drifted back into conversation the way people do after something uncomfortable — loudly, about nothing.
Nico let Adeline wheel him toward the corridor without argument, which told her more than anything he'd said all evening.
She closed the sitting room door behind them.
"Who is he?" she said.
Nico looked at his hands.
"His name is Dorian.
He manages the estate accounts."
"He was at the medication cabinet two nights ago.
At two in the morning."
Nico's jaw tightened.
"That's not possible."
"I saw him."
"Adeline—"
"I have the tablets." She pulled the sealed bag from her pocket and held it where he could see it.
"These were not prescribed to you.
I checked every bottle.
I checked the pharmacy log.
These do not exist on paper."
He stared at the bag for a long moment.
"You've been carrying those."
"For four days."
Something moved through his expression — not quite anger, not quite fear.
Something older than both.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Because I didn't know who gave them to you," she said.
"And I still don't.
Not completely."
He looked toward the closed door.
"Camille manages the household staff," he said quietly.
"Dorian reports to her."
"I know."
"If she's involved—"
"Then the person you've been trusting to run this house while you recovered has been making sure you don't."
The words landed between them and neither of them moved.
Nico reached out.
Not for the bag.
For her wrist — the same wrist Camille had grabbed.
He held it lightly.
"You should have told me," he said.
"I'm telling you now."
He released her wrist and sat back.
His voice, when it came, was very controlled.
"I need you to keep those tablets safe.
Don't put them back in your room.
Don't tell anyone else.
Not yet."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to have a conversation with Dorian."
"Tonight?"
"Tonight."
Adeline looked at him — the set of his shoulders, the stillness in his hands.
Eight months in that chair and he still carried himself like a man who expected to be obeyed.
"I'm coming with you," she said.
"No."
"You can't stop me."
He almost smiled.
It didn't reach his eyes.
"No," he said again, softer.
"I suppose I can't."
They found Dorian in the east corridor, coat already on, moving toward the service exit.
He stopped when he saw them.
His eyes went to the bag in Adeline's hand.
"Mr.
Ferrante," he said carefully.
"I was just leaving for the evening."
"I know," Nico said.
"Sit down, Dorian."
"I really should—"
"That wasn't a suggestion."
Dorian sat.
The corridor was empty.
The party noise was muffled and far away.
Nico looked at him for a long time without speaking.
"How long have you been adjusting my medication?"
Dorian's face went very still.
"I don't know what you mean."
"The tablets," Nico said.
"The ones Adeline found.
The ones that aren't in any prescription log.
The ones that were in my evening dose."
"I handle accounts.
I don't touch medication."
"You were at the cabinet at two in the morning."
A pause.
Too long.
"I was getting aspirin."
"From a locked medical cabinet."
Another pause.
Adeline watched Dorian's hands.
They were flat on his knees.
Pressing down.
The way hands press when a person is deciding something.
"I think," Dorian said slowly, "that you should speak to Camille."
"I intend to," Nico said.
"But I'm speaking to you first."
Dorian looked at the bag one more time.
Then he stood up.
May you like
"I'd like to call my solicitor," he said.
And that was the moment Adeline understood that whatever was in those tablets, it was bad enough that Dorian already knew he would need one.
