Chapter 4

By the time I reached the music studio, the other students had already wrapped up the first session and were taking a break.

Seeing me arrive so late, Brandon shoved a chunk of mango into his mouth and frantically waved me over.

I walked up, pinched a piece of fruit for myself, and chewed. "What's up?"

Looking around like a petty thief, he pulled me down to his level. "So? Now that your wicked stepmother kicked the bucket, have you and Ethan finally... you know?"

He hooked his thumbs together, wiggling his eyebrows with a sleazy smirk. "Set the sheets on fire?"

"Cough! Cough, cough!"

The mango juice caught in my windpipe, the pulp sticking in my throat and nearly choking the life out of me.

I shot him a dirty glare, snatching the carton of milk he held out to wash it down.

"Can you keep your filthy mind out of the gutter for once? She hasn't even been dead for three days. Do you really think Ethan would do something like that? And for the record, I'm not that desperate."

Brandon rolled his eyes with utter disdain. "Oh please. Who's the one constantly whining to me, 'Wah, why won't Ethan kiss me on the lips? Wah, does Ethan not really love me?'"

"Get lost."

I kicked his shin.

Squeezing onto the bench beside him, I lowered my voice. "Look, I know for sure now that Ethan really does love me. Sure, some things are a little weird, but his feelings are definitely genuine."

"Weird how?"

I pursed my lips. Before I figured out the full picture, it was better not to blab about it so carelessly; at the end of the day, Brandon was an outsider.

"Never mind. Tell you later."

Brandon threw his hands up in annoyance. "I don't know why I even bother asking."

We sat wedged side by side behind the grand piano, one silently sipping milk while the other furiously stuffed his face.

As the milk carton emptied, a sudden bolt of inspiration struck me. I jabbed Brandon with my elbow.

"Is there anything out there that can induce deep sleep while simultaneously enabling subconscious hypnotic suggestion?"

Brandon's eyes blew wide with horror. "Are you finally resorting to drugging him for non-con romance?!"

"Just answer the damn question. Does it exist or not?"

"There's this substance... Scopolamine, often called Devil's Breath. One of its compounds can pull that off. But don't you dare drag me into doing anything illegal."

"Relax. I just need you to run a lab test on a liquid sample for me. I'll bring it tomorrow."

I was jumping at shadows now. Whether it was pure paranoia or if my stepmother's final words had truly gotten into my head, I had to take the initiative and investigate.

Between the disturbing dream and waking up in the middle of the night, the only variable had been the glass of warm milk that I had secretly dumped out halfway.

That night, when Ethan handed me the glass of warm milk, I held back a mouthful.

Slipping into the bathroom, I spat it cleanly into a fresh cosmetic cushion compact.

The next day, when I pulled the saturated cushion out of the compact and squeezed the droplets out for Brandon, his jaw dropped.

He gave me a bewildered thumbs-up. "Zoe Miller, I swear I understand you less and less every day."

The lab results came back remarkably fast.

When Brandon called me, I was sitting by the lake, working on an open-air landscape sketch.

"Zoe... where the hell did you get this stuff?"