The Third Wife never even made it out of the hallway.
Before she could push the heavy mahogany doors open, the sheer, agonizing toll of the hours-long beating caught up to her fragile body. Her vision violently spun, a terrible fever spiking in her blood, and she collapsed onto the floorboards, the teacup shattering beside her. The poison dissolved harmlessly into the spilled puddle on the floor.
Inside the study, the Prime Minister heard the crash. But after screaming at the servants to drag her away and clean up the mess, he finally sat heavily in his chair, rubbing his aching temples.
He called for a hot bath. As the steaming water washed away the sweat and ink, the frantic, chaotic fog that had been suffocating his brain for the past twelve hours finally began to thin. The invisible powder Heena had used was completely filtering out of his system.
His mind was clearing up. And as the clarity returned, so did a cold, terrifying realization.
