Chapter 12 - THE CONTAMINATED GIFTAt 7:00 PM, Arthur brought a warm mug of chamomile tea and the freshly mixed bottle of formula upstairs to the nursery.
"Delivery came from the organic shop down on Elm Street," Arthur smiled softly, setting the bottle on the changing table before leaning down to kiss Clara’s cheek. "They threw in those lavender soaps you like."
Clara smiled up at him, lifting Maya onto her shoulder to burp her. "Thank you, sweetie. You look exhausted. Why don't you take a quick shower? I'll feed Maya and put her down."
"You sure you're feeling okay?" Arthur asked, his hand lingering protectively on her shoulder.
"I feel safe," Clara said gently, looking into his blue eyes. "Because of you."
Arthur nodded, feeling a deep, abiding warmth fill his chest as he walked down the hall to the master bathroom.
In the nursery, Clara set Maya down in her crib and picked up the formula bottle. She unscrewed the cap to test the temperature on her wrist.
A faint, strange almond scent drifted from the warm liquid.
Clara froze. As a former veterinary technician before she met Arthur, Clara’s sense of chemical smell had been honed over years of handling animal pharmaceuticals. Almond wasn't a standard preservative in organic goat-milk formula.
Her heart gave a sharp, terrifying thud.
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She looked down at the star-patterned quilt inside the crib, then back at the bottle in her hand. Memory surged back—the way Eleanor had insisted on controlling the baby’s feeding schedule, the strange taste in the tea Eleanor had made her two weeks ago right before Clara had felt dizzy and confused.
"It wasn't post-partum exhaustion..." Clara whispered, her blood running cold as the realization struck her like a lightning bolt. "She was drugging me."
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