?Chapter 244:


    Others might’ve mistaken it for perfume or the lingering scent of fresh linen, but Christina knew better. Her eyes narrowed, the realization settling like a cold stone in her stomach. She’d encountered this odor before—a subtle warning of a rare, insidious poison. This woman had been poisoned.


    Detecting the poison’s presence was a challenge—its fragrance was so faint, so slippery, that no one could ever tell how much had seeped into the body. Whether the dose was light or lethal, the scent never thickened.


    Christina could only guess at the damage, her unease sharpening as she watched the woman. She started to voice her suspicions, “You—” but before she could finish, a sharp voice sliced through the hush.


    “Miss Hubbard! What are you doing out here? Mr. and Mrs. Hubbard need you back—we’re on a tight schedule!”


    The woman sprang to her feet, nimble despite her nerves. She fumbled for her phone, typed a quick message, and turned the screen for Christina to see. “Nice to meet you, friend. I’m Eloise Hubbard. What’s your name?”


    The message made Christina blink, momentarily thrown. Then, she managed a warm reply. “Christina Jones. The pleasure’s mine, Eloise.”


    In that instant, the truth clicked for Christina—this was the Hubbard family’s long-lost daughter, the one everyone had whispered about.


    Eloise offered a small, apologetic smile as she typed again. “I have to go. See you at the party!” She shed the message, gave Christina a quick wave, and dashed away.


    With every step, Eloise kept ncing over her shoulder, clearly reluctant to break the budding connection between them. This fleeting connection felt so precious, so rare, that it almost seemed unreal. The possibility that it could dissolve at any moment made her clutch it tighter in her heart.


    Eloise mused that Christina had suggested they be friends before knowing who she was, meaning Christina wasn’t after the Hubbard name. Maybe this friendship could actually be real. Her spirits lifted. Suddenly, the looming ordeal of dressing up and mingling at the banquet felt less suffocating. She actually looked forward to the evening.


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    Christina watched Eloise’s brightened expression and felt a pang of concern knot her stomach. Once the party was over, she’d have to find Elliott—and somehow, without drawing attention, figure out just how dire Eloise’s condition really was.


    That faint bluish tint on Eloise’s skin wasn’t just some harmless blemish. It was a telltale sign—one Christina recognized all too well. The residue of a rare, slow-acting toxin. This particr poison didn’t cause pain. It didn’t trigger fevers or weakness. It silenced. It stole its victim’s voice, stripping them of speech without warning or obvious cause. From Eloise’s gestures, her phone typing, herck of verbal response—it was clear she’d been mute for some time.


    With the toxin invisible to routine screenings, standard tests were rendered useless. Most victims never even knew they were sick. They lived as usual until it was toote. Surviving this long meant the poison had seeped into her system in minute, relentless doses, drip-fed over countless years. Someone hadn’t just poisoned Eloise—they’d been lurking close, patiently weaving a threat right under her nose.


    Christina’s thoughts spun through thetest Hubbard family drama, her gaze sharpening as she caught a whiff of a plot. Victims of this particr poison never suffered by ident—they were silenced for a reason. Whoever the Hubbard family had angered had orchestrated this nightmare, building their trap piece by piece over the years.


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