Schemes

Schemes
POV Celeste Winters

I walked quietly to the bedside, my movements automatic as I checked the monitors. Pulse steady at sixty-eight beats per minute. Blood pressure stable at 128 over 82. Oxygen saturation at ninety-seven percent. I adjusted the blanket over her frail frame, tucking it gently around her shoulders.

These were the actions of a dutiful caretaker, someone who genuinely cared about the patient's wellbeing.

Vivienne had arranged everything perfectly. She'd asked her friend Elena to oversee Lyanna's care. After Elena had examined Lyanna and reviewed her condition, the three of us had agreed to share the night watch. Vivienne and I both despised Sage, and this arrangement gave us a legitimate reason to be present, to be useful, to appear concerned.

Tonight was my shift.

But as my hands moved through familiar motions, my thoughts traveled down a far darker path.

Lyanna was Marcus's sister.

I'd seen the way the old Alpha had rushed to the hospital that night when news of her stroke reached him. The genuine fear in his eyes as he'd demanded updates from the medical staff. The way his hand had trembled slightly as he'd touched her forehead, murmuring reassurances even though she couldn't hear him.

Marcus loved his sister. Cared deeply about her welfare.

And Marcus had a weak heart.

If something were to happen to Lyanna...

The thought that surfaced next made me freeze, my hand still resting on Lyanna's blanket.

I jerked back from the bed as if I'd been burned, horrified by the direction my thoughts had taken.

No. This was madness. This was murder. And Marcus was supposed to be my goal, not her.

The rational part of my mind screamed at me to stop, to step away from this precipice before I fell too far.

But the thought, once born, refused to die.

It took root like a poison seed, growing and spreading with terrible speed.

If Lyanna's condition worsened, Marcus would be devastated. The emotional shock could trigger his heart condition. An elderly man, already fragile, losing his beloved sister—the stress alone could be fatal.

And if I prepared a little surprise for him at this moment...

My heart began to race, but this time it wasn't just fear driving it.

There was something else there now. A dark possibility. A way forward through the disaster that had seemed insurmountable just minutes ago.

No. No, I couldn't actually be considering this.

But even as I tried to push the idea away, my mind was already analyzing it with cold clinical detachment.

Vivienne had arranged for Elena to take over Lyanna's care. If something went wrong, if Lyanna's condition deteriorated unexpectedly, the blame would fall on Elena first. On the hospital second. On anyone but me.

I would just be the concerned family member who'd been checking in. The dutiful granddaughter-in-law-to-be who'd been keeping vigil. My presence wouldn't raise suspicions—it would be expected, even praised.

And Lyanna's condition was already fragile. She'd suffered a cerebral hemorrhage. These things could have complications. Secondary bleeds weren't uncommon. Neither were infections, blood clots, any number of things that could go wrong even with the best care.

If I was careful, if I covered my tracks properly, no one would ever suspect.

My hands were shaking now. I pressed them against my thighs, trying to still the tremors.

This was wrong. Fundamentally, horrifically wrong.

The voice of my conscience whispered frantically in the back of my mind, desperate and fading. Lyanna is innocent. This is murder. You can't do this. There has to be another way.

But what other way was there?

Sage wasn't going to show mercy. She'd already proven that by forcing Dad to sign over the shares, by having Mom arrested, by systematically destroying everything my family had built. She would come for me next, and when she did, I would have nothing left to defend myself with.

Damien would abandon me the moment my usefulness evaporated. I'd seen the doubt in his eyes, the way he'd questioned whether I was worth the investment. Without my family's resources, without the status I'd represented, I was nothing to him. Just another disposable piece in his game for power.

I was backed into a corner with no way out.

Unless I made my own way out.

The rational justifications began sliding into place, each one making the unthinkable seem just a little more reasonable.

This wasn't really murder, I told myself. I would just be taking advantage of an existing situation. Lyanna was already sick, already vulnerable. Her prognosis was uncertain at best. Nature would be taking its course, and I would simply be... helping it along.

And besides, Lyanna herself was partially to blame. If she'd stayed home, if she'd had private care there instead of insisting on coming to the hospital, this opportunity wouldn't even exist. She'd put herself in this position. She'd made herself accessible.

This was her fault for being careless.

The twisted logic settled over me like a blanket, smothering the last whispers of doubt.

I looked down at the sleeping woman, and what I felt was no longer guilt or horror.

It was cold, calm calculation.

This was what I had to do to survive. There was no room for weakness, no space for sentimentality. I'd been pushed to this point by forces beyond my control—by Sage's vendetta, by my parents' failures, by Damien's conditional support.

Now I would do whatever was necessary to claw my way back to safety.

The emotional storm that had consumed me in the hallway was gone, replaced by an eerie stillness.

This new calm was far more dangerous than the anger or fear had been. It was the quiet of someone who'd crossed a line and found that the crossing was easier than expected. It was the silence of a predator deciding to strike.

I pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed, my movements slow and deliberate.

To anyone who might walk in, I would look like a devoted caretaker keeping vigil over a sick relative. My expression was one of concern, my posture that of someone prepared for a long night of watching over a patient.

No one would see the cold machinery of my thoughts. The careful planning already beginning to take shape.

I would need to be patient. To wait for the right moment. To be smart about this, to leave no trace of my involvement.

But I could do it. I knew I could.