Chapter 2

Downtown General Hospital. Laboratory.

Julian stood in his white coat, brow furrowed, staring at the tissue I'd handed him.

He was my senior in college, and the youngest attending physician this hospital had ever had.

Six months ago, he was the one who performed the kidney transplant surgery — the one between me and Caleb.

"What happened to your face?" His eyes went straight to the swelling on my cheek.

"Got bit by a dog," I said flatly. "Julian, can you run a test on whatever's on this tissue?"

He studied me for a long moment, then didn't ask anything more. He took the tissue and disappeared into the lab.

Waiting is always its own kind of torture.

I sat on a bench in the hallway, and my mind kept replaying it — Caleb's hand, swinging toward my face. For Scarlett.

No hesitation in his eyes. No guilt.

Just cold, bone-deep contempt.

Why?

Even if he didn't love me anymore. Even if Scarlett was the only one who mattered to him. That didn't explain this level of hatred.

Unless… Scarlett had told him something.

Two hours later, Julian came back out holding a report.

His expression was grim. More than grim — there was something almost like shock on his face.

"Vicky." His voice was careful. "I need you to tell me the truth. Where did this come from?"

"Caleb's assistant made him a batch of broth." My stomach dropped. "Why? Is it poisoned?"

Julian exhaled slowly and handed me the report.

"Not ordinary poison. The broth contains a high concentration of Ghost Poppy extract — and a rare neurotoxin."

"Ghost Poppy?" I blinked.

"It's a controlled substance." His voice dropped low. "It doesn't just cause addiction — severe psychological dependency. But what makes it truly dangerous is what happens when it's combined with that neurotoxin. Together, they produce a slow, targeted destruction effect on transplanted organs."

My entire body went cold. The blood in my veins felt like it had stopped moving.

"What does that mean?"

"It means this substance mimics transplant rejection. It attacks the new kidney inside Caleb's body — slowly, piece by piece. Within six months, his kidney function will fail completely."

Julian looked at me, and his eyes were filled with something that looked like dread.

"Victoria, whoever did this isn't just trying to control him. They want him dead. And it's almost impossible to trace — even at autopsy, it would look like natural post-operative rejection."

"This is a perfect murder."

My mind went completely blank.

Murder.

Scarlett wanted to kill Caleb?

Why?She'd been saying she loved him since the moment she came back. She'd barely been off the plane before she was by his side.

If Caleb died, what would she gain?

"Victoria, this is serious." Julian's voice cut through the silence. "We have to go to the police. Right now."

"No." I snapped back to the present and grabbed his arm. "We can't."

"Why not? His life is in danger!"

"Because I have no proof." I said through gritted teeth. "The residue on that tissue isn't nearly enough to prove Scarlett did anything. She could just turn around and claim I planted it to frame her. Caleb is completely wrapped around her finger right now — he'll never believe me."

What mattered more was figuring out why Scarlett was doing this.

What was she hiding?

"Julian, please keep this between us for now. Don't tell anyone." I looked at him, pleading.

Julian let out a sigh and wrapped his hand around mine.

"Okay. I promise. But Victoria — you have to protect yourself. That woman is far more dangerous than you think."

By the time I left the hospital, it was deep into the night.

I came home to an empty villa. The living room was dark.

Caleb hadn't come home.

Since Scarlett came back, he'd been staying out more and more often.

I walked over to the bar cart, poured myself a glass of whiskey, and downed it in one go.

The burn traced down my throat and into my stomach — and somehow, it cleared my head like nothing else could.

Scarlett. You set up this whole game. Fine. Let's play.

I picked up my phone and dialed a number.

"Hey, Jack. I need you to look into someone."

Jack was the best private investigator in the business. As long as the money was right, there wasn't a secret he couldn't dig up.

"Victoria. Go ahead."

"Scarlett — personal assistant to the president of Frost Group. I want everything on her from the past five years abroad. Phone records, bank statements, and... every single person she's had contact with since coming back."