I looked over at Celeste.

Her hands were clasped in front of her.

Her expression was entirely neutral, as if she were listening to a weather report.

“She is lying, Alexander,” Celeste said smoothly.

“Vivian has always had a fragile grasp on reality.”

“She bought those chemicals herself from her family’s pharmaceutical contacts.”

“I did no such thing!” Vivian yelled.

“The shipping records Elena found have your name on them, Celeste,” I said.

My voice sounded steady, though my heart was hammering against my ribs.

Celeste turned her gaze to me.

Her eyes were cold, like grey stone.

“A printed name on a digital invoice is not a legal signature, Elena,” Celeste said.

“You are a maid.”

“You found some papers in a drawer and decided to play detective.”

“Those records match the dates of Eleanor’s hospitalizations,” Alexander said.

He walked over to his desk and picked up a heavy bronze paperweight.

He gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning white.

“Vivian just described the exact physical appearance of the vials we found in the old pool house,” Alexander said.

“The police are already on their way, Celeste.”