Part 1: The Blue Envelope (A suspicious death. A nurse with a past. And a pill that shouldn’t exist)

Part 1: The Blue Envelope

Mr. Rajan was a fixture of the neighborhood. Retired, widowed, and calm in his routine, he walked every morning with quiet dignity. A leather pouch always dangled from his side, containing his essentials: a house key, a few coins, and his blood pressure pills. The residents of Gulmohar Lane found comfort in his constancy. So when he collapsed on a mild Tuesday evening—clutching his chest and gasping for breath—shock rippled through the close-knit community.
The cause of death was recorded as cardiac arrest. It wasn’t questioned. At 72, with hypertension in his medical history, it made sense. The funeral was sparsely attended, quiet, and swift.
But Anjali Nair, a local nurse who had occasionally checked in on Mr. Rajan, found herself restless. Something didn’t sit right. His last BP report, from a week ago, showed pristine readings—almost unnaturally so. He was stable, active, and didn’t show signs of a deteriorating heart. And yet, he died suddenly.

Driven by unease, Anjali accessed the clinic’s system. Over the past 45 days, three other patients—aged between 70 and 75—had died similarly. They all lived alone. They were all taking the same medication: Cardiotine. A brand Anjali didn’t recognize.

She visited the local pharmacy, and when asked about Cardiotine, the pharmacist gave a rehearsed nod. "New supplier. Supposedly more effective for geriatric hypertension. Better absorption." Anjali took a sample pack. The pills were small, cobalt blue, unusually glossy.
That night, as rain hammered her window, she turned the box over. No manufacturing date. No batch number. No side effects list.
She searched online. The website listed only a generic mission statement, no verifiable contact details. And the customer support link redirected to a blank page.
Something was wrong with Cardiotine.
And someone had noticed her curiosity.
Because the next morning, her front door was ajar.
Nothing was stolen. No signs of force.
But her drawer, where she had kept Mr. Rajan’s records and the Cardiotine samples, was neatly emptied.
The only thing left behind?
A single blue pill placed in the center of her dining table.