Lucian
Mara handed me the letters, and I lifted one to my nose.
Nothing.
No scent. Not even a trace of Martha.
Just Mara’s, faint from when she found it.
I scanned the writing, then waited in silence until Darian arrived.
When he walked in, I passed the letters to him. “Mara found these in your mother’s room after we dropped her off. She was searching for evidence of the poison.”
Mara greeted him and Tiffany with a soft, polite “hello.”
Darian took the envelope, brought it to his nose, and frowned. “Other than your scents... nothing. Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d assume one of you wrote it.”
I knew it wasn’t an accusation, just an unsettling observation.
“Latex,” he added after another sniff. “There’s a faint trace of it. Someone who handled this was wearing gloves.”
I
