"In the name of all that is holy, Olivia, what is this madness?"
Isabella's voice trembled, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and disbelief.
"Yesterday, you were the very portrait of a grieving soul, offering her solace. And today? Today you speak of murder. Has that visit to the cemetery stripped you of your senses? I am leaving."
"Sit down," Olivia commanded, her voice like velvet wrapped around steel. "I assure you, my mind has never been clearer."
Isabella scoffed, her hand already hovering over the door handle. "I find that hard to believe."
"I am not going to kill her, Isabella. Now, sit."
"Oh, you're not going to kill her? My, how remarkably trustworthy you've become," Isabella retorted, her sarcasm thin-veiled by fear.
"I swear it," Olivia said, her gaze steady. "Death is not the intent. We shall merely introduce a toxin into her veins, only to offer the antidote moments later. No harm will truly befall her."
