Explaining myself was exhausting. I would instead dumb it down to keep my peace. Speaking of peace, there was the matter of the under-the-table products reserved for women looking to eliminate any unsavory characters, bound by marriage or otherwise. My exceptional understanding of botany and chemistry had allowed me to aid in the disappearance of many men—a professional poisoner, if you will. Phoebe didn’t know that half of the business existed, but her up-to-date gossip made choosing my next subjects fairly easy. I preferred not to call them victims. They were anything but. A poisoner’s
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