Beyond His Control: Chapter 21

Emmy took the vial reluctantly, and my mother also gave one to Holly just in case. She didn’t want to accept it at first, but my mother told them it’s better to be safe than sorry. They both promised to keep it hidden and not to tell anyone.

Mother told Emmy when to use it and how. Infuse it with tea or put it in a strong soup so he won’t notice. The poison will take hours to days to take effect, but it’ll definitely kill him.

We go back to the temple, leaving Emmy with Holly until dawn. Holly will make sure she gets home safely, and she told us she’ll help Emmy with whatever she needs.

I pray neither of them will get caught.

Mom and I go back up to our rooms and go back to bed until the morning comes. I contemplated going with her to her room so I could ask her how many of those vials she has and what are in them, but it was almost dawn, and I didn’t wanna risk anyone finding us together.

No one can know what we’ve done … and what we’re planning on doing.

I’ve not closed my eyes since.

Even though I’m lying in bed, I’m staring straight up at the ceiling, my heartbeat rising with every passing minute. I’m anxious for what’s to come.

Not because I know I’ll have to get up in the morning and see whether or not there’s gonna be a ruckus in the community due to an “unforeseen” death … but because I know what we’ve done cannot be undone.

Something has been set into motion. The wheels are turning now, and there’s no way to stop what’s coming.

Death is inevitable.

The only question is … who will win?

Us or them?

When the sun comes up, Noah stirs beside me, and he wraps his arm around me while groaning. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Morning,” I reply.

“It’s nice to wake up with you,” he mumbles. “You didn’t mind that I stumbled my way into your bed, did you?”

“It’s fine,” I reply, and I close my eyes for a second before I get up from the bed.

Noah sits up as I grab my clothes and put them on. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just … have to talk to my mother.”

He gets up too and gathers the clothes he left on my floor. Then he walks over to me and presses a kiss to my cheeks. “Well, you know where to find me if you need me.”

I’m glad he doesn’t ask me any questions. But with that smirk on his face as he leaves, I can’t help but wonder if he just doesn’t wanna ask them.

Noah

Natalie’s distracted by something, and I’m curious to find out what exactly it is. It is rather coincidental that she’s not talking to me like she usually does the day after her mother poisoned her own husband. I wonder if she knows.

I wouldn’t put it past Marsha to tell Natalie what she did … And for Natalie to use the information to her advantage. It’s exactly the kind of thing I’d expect a woman with her history and her experiences to do when faced with a situation like this.

And when I walk past Marsha’s room, I pause and rub my chin as she fumbles around with something underneath her bed. When she gets up and turns around, she’s frozen to the ground, her eyes fixated on me.

I raise a brow.

Then I walk away.

Nothing to see here.

She follows me out the room and across the hallway. When I glance over my shoulder, she’s carrying a glass of water and tries to catch up with me, but I won’t let her.

I’m not interested in what she has to offer.

I know she’s going to try, but I won’t take the bait.

I hate my father more than anyone else here, but killing him with poison? That’s a woman’s choice of weapons, not mine.

“Noah!” she hisses.

“No,” I reply. “Not interested.”

She catches up to me and taps me on the shoulder. “You have to do it.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” I reply.

“Are you insane?” she whispers.

“No, I’m waiting,” I say.

“For what? Why would you let me do this if you didn’t want them—”

I stop and turn, holding a finger over my lips. “Don’t speak about this again.”

“But you know this has to happen,” she says. “I already started. It’s too late to turn back now.”

“I don’t have to involve myself in this,” I say, raising a brow. “All of this was your idea.” I point at the bottle and then turn around and walk off.

But she refuses to stop talking to me. “If I get caught, you know I’ll take you down with me, right?”

I stop and glance at her over my shoulder. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Patrick steps out of his room not too far ahead and cocks his head when he spots us. “What are you two arguing about?”

Marsha looks mortified.

“Nothing,” I say. “Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for breakfast.”

I continue walking toward the staircase while Marsha stays behind, still flabbergasted by our talk.

“What the …” Patrick yells from another room way back. “Fuck. Someone get the doctor! NOW!”

I pause at the top of the stairs as Patrick comes rushing out of the room. “Noah! Get the doctor!”

I nod as he runs back inside … into the president’s room.

Marsha inches closer to the door, her feet moving ever so slowly, almost as if she’s too afraid to go look.

Suddenly, something crashes into the ground.

The glass she was holding has dropped to the floor.

The president himself barges out of the room.

My jaw drops, but I quickly close it again before he notices.

“Noah! Are you deaf? Get the doctor,” he growls at me.

“Yes, sir. What happened?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.

“The girl passed out in my bed, and she won’t wake up,” he growls. “Just get the doctor. I don’t want no woman dying in my bed.”

“Of course.” I nod. “Right away.”

But as he rushes back inside, I quickly run back up through the hallways again and grab Marsha’s arm. “Come.”

“But …” she mutters.

“Now,” I growl.

She’s in complete shock, staring at her husband whom she presumed was dead.

I drag her along with me through the hallway and down the stairs.

“But I have to—”

“You don’t have to do anything,” I interject. “You’ve done enough.”

“I gave it to him!”

“Yeah, well, looks like he gave the drink to one of the girls instead,” I reply.

“Oh my God …” she whispers, tears filling her eyes. “He’s still alive. I thought he would be dead.”

I firmly plant her against the wall. “Shh!” I place a hand over her mouth. “Do you want them to know? Do you want to die?”

She shakes her head.

“Then get yourself together,” I rasp, taking my hand off her mouth. “You failed. Learn from your mistakes.”

“But I tried … I swear, I gave it to him. I just couldn’t watch him drink it,” she says, choking on her words. “I only had this one chance after the ceremony. He won’t let me give him anything any other time. I’ve messed up.” She smacks her forehead.

“Killing people is hard,” I say, taking in a big breath.

“How would you know?” she retorts.

I roll my eyes and then look around to see if anyone could listen to our conversation before I continue. “That’s not the point. The point is … be prepared. Do better. Don’t get caught.”

She nods while her eyes are down at her feet. “I … I killed another girl, didn’t I?”

I rub my lips together and look away for a second. “Well, that’s a risk you need to be willing to take.”

She averts her eyes too now. “They’ll know it was me.”

“They won’t. No one here has the capacity or the interest in testing for hemlock,” I say, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Just stay low, keep quiet, and don’t mention it. If he talks to you about it, pretend you’re shocked. Nothing else.”

She doesn’t say another word, so I guess this conversation is done.

She knows she needs to keep quiet if she doesn’t want to get implicated. And I have no intention of telling anyone either because that would put me in danger as well.

“It’s time for breakfast now. Go to the women’s room. Stay low. Enjoy your morning.”

“But what about that poor girl?” she asks.

“The elders who helps us will take care of it,” I say.

“You mean get rid of her body.” She raises a brow.

I place a hand on her shoulder. “Be more careful next time.”

She shrugs me off, which I take as a cue to go.

The more time we spend together huddled in the dark, the more suspicion we draw to ourselves. And I’m not about to let one mishandled poisoning ruin my rise to power.

Natalie

“Mom?” I mutter.

She won’t look at me.

In fact, she hasn’t looked at any of the ladies in the women’s room since she came in. She’s been staring at her food the entire time, and everything’s gone untouched. What’s going on?

“Mom?” I say as I lean in. “Are you okay?”

She still doesn’t reply, but she’s clutching her dress all bunched up in her hands. Something’s definitely not right. Does this have something to do with the woman who was found dead in the president’s bed this morning? The other matriarchs were talking about it from the second they stepped into the room. Apparently, Agatha was tasked with the cleanup and that’s how they know.

But they’re not seeing what I’m seeing right now. My mom isn’t okay.

“Mom!” I grab her arm, and she seems to snap out of it.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?” I ask, raising my brow to insinuate I want to know more even though I won’t say that out loud in front of these other women.

Her lips part, and she looks at me for a second and then glances at the other ladies who have also suddenly noticed she’s not been speaking. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She clears her throat. “I just didn’t sleep very well last night.”

“You do look a bit pale, Marsha. Are you sure you’re okay?” Abigail asks her.

My mother’s body grows rigid, and I can tell she’s having a hard time. I have to intervene.

I grab her arm and pull her up with me. “I think you should go back to your room to rest.”

My mother stammers, but Abigail interjects, “Oh, that’s a great idea.”

“I’ll take her. She’s still a little unstable from the recovery, so best someone go with her up the stairs,” I say, lifting her. My mother’s wobbly body helps aid me in my lie.

“That’s lovely of you to do,” Meghan says.

“Yeah, very daughter-like,” Trisha says, rolling her eyes. “Have fun upstairs all by yourselves. We’ll be here, playing a game.”

“Thank you,” I say as I quickly rush off with my mother’s arm locked through mine. I close the door behind us and walk with her up the stairs.

“Wait,” Mom says as we get to the top of the stairs. “I need a minute.” She bends over, leaning on her knees as she breathes out loud. “That place was suffocating.”

“I could tell,” I reply.

She looks up at me, but the sheer terror in her eyes makes my heart jump. “That girl didn’t die by accident.”

My eyes widen, and I lean in so we can whisper. She just admitted she murdered someone. If anyone hears this, she’s dead. “What happened? I thought the president might’ve smothered her in her sleep or something.”

She shakes her head. “The vials …”

She immediately runs off toward her room, and I follow her as fast as I can. She dives underneath her bed and fishes out a box, opening it up. It’s filled with hundreds of vials.

“Wow.” I didn’t know she had that many. “But the girl … What does she …?” I frown, but then I realize what she was actually doing. “You were poisoning him?”

She puts a finger against her lips, and it stops me from saying another word.

Now it all starts to make sense. The secretive behavior at every party. The trips she made in the middle of the night. How long has she been making these and where? Without anyone noticing?

“I thought the vial you gave to Emmy was the only one you had,” I mutter as I watch her tuck all the vials into her pockets. “How long have you been doing this?”

“For some time now,” she answers, looking me dead in the eyes. “And you know exactly why.”

Chills settle in my bones.

Yes, I know exactly why.

My father has always been the one to make her suffer, so it would make sense she’d want to kill him, and poison is the easiest way to get rid of someone without anyone knowing you committed murder.

But this is different. No one makes this much poison to just kill one person.

This whole batch could kill almost half the community. Or more specifically … the men.

She closes the box and hands a few vials to me. “Hide these.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere, as long as we can keep these away from Lawrence. If he sees them, he’ll know it was me,” she pleads. “Please, you have to take them. You’re the only one I trust.”

I don’t know how to answer that. Even though I want to help her more than anything, am I ready to do this? Am I ready to risk my own life for … murder?

“You have to do this,” she says. “You know this can’t go on for much longer.”

I nod. “I know.”

THUD!

The loud bang makes me turn my head in shock.

“Interesting book you have there, Marsha.”

It’s Patrick.

He’s standing right in the door opening. He’s been here the entire time. He’s heard everything …

And he knows my mother tried to poison her husband, and that I’m helping her cover it up.