Victoria's POV
I can't swallow.
Marcus's hand is like iron on my jaw, the bitter juice burning down my throat. I gag and choke, but he doesn't let go until the glass is empty.
"There," he says, setting down the glass. "That wasn't so hard."
My throat burns. My stomach twists. I fall to my knees, coughing.
"The poison works slowly," Marcus says calmly, washing the glass in the sink. "You have maybe twelve hours. By morning, you'll just look like you died in your sleep. Heart failure. So sad. My poor wife, never recovered from our son's death."
I can't breathe. Can't think. Twelve hours to live.
Marcus walks out like he's just made dinner, not murdered me.
I sit on the kitchen floor, shaking. I should call 911. Get my stomach pumped. But Marcus will just say I'm being dramatic. That I'm trying to get attention. He'll show them the recording of me "falsely" accusing him. They'll think I'm crazy.
My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number.
DON'T PANIC. I SWITCHED THE JUICE THIS AFTERNOON WHEN MARCUS WASN'T LOOKING. IT'S JUST APPLE JUICE. YOU'RE SAFE. - E
Ezra.
My hands shake so hard I almost drop the phone. Another text comes through.
MEET ME AT THE BENCH IN 30 MINUTES. WE NEED TO TALK. COME ALONE.
I stare at the messages. Ezra saved my life. But how did he know about the poison? How did he get into my house?
Unless he's been watching me too. Just like Marcus.
Maybe this is all part of Marcus's plan. Maybe Ezra is working with him. Maybe this is just another game.
But what choice do I have? I'm already dead if I stay here.
I grab my coat and slip out the back door. Marcus is in his office with the door closed. He thinks I'm dying upstairs.
Good. Let him think that.
The walk to campus feels longer tonight. Every shadow looks like Marcus. Every car that passes might be him following me. My heart pounds so hard it hurts.
When I reach the bench, Ezra is already there. He's holding two coffee cups again, but his hands are shaking.
"You're okay," he breathes when he sees me. "Thank God."
"How did you know?" I demand. "About the poison?"
"I broke into your house this afternoon while you were both out." Ezra's voice is rushed, scared. "I had to see if you were telling the truth about Marcus. I found his research notes. Victoria, he's been planning to kill you for months. The juice was sitting on the counter with a note that said 'Give to V tonight.' I tested it with a chemistry kit from the lab. It had enough sedative to stop your heart."
"You saved my life."
"I almost didn't make it in time. I had to distract Marcus, pretend I needed to discuss our research project, give myself time to switch the drinks." Ezra runs his hands through his hair. "But Victoria, we have a bigger problem."
"What?"
"I found photos in his office. Not just of me. Of you. Hundreds of them, going back three years. Before your son died." Ezra's eyes are dark with horror. "He was planning this before the drowning. The party. The pool. Daniel's death. It's all documented in his notes like an experiment."
My legs go weak. I sit down hard on the bench.
"Marcus wrote that he needed to 'remove the variable' that was making you too happy," Ezra continues. "Daniel was the variable. You loved your son more than Marcus, and he couldn't control you while Daniel was alive."
"He killed my baby to control me."
"Yes." Ezra sits beside me. "And I found something else. Professor Mitchell—my old mentor—she wasn't his first victim. There are at least ten others in his notes. Students. Colleagues. People who got too close to the truth. He studies them, breaks them, and then watches them destroy themselves."
"We have to go to the police."
"With what evidence? I broke into his house illegally. Anything I took won't hold up in court. And Marcus has already planted evidence against both of us. I got an email tonight from the university ethics board saying there's been 'anonymous complaints' about inappropriate behavior between us."
"He's framing us."
"He's making it so when we accuse him, no one will believe us. We'll look like paranoid lovers trying to destroy his career." Ezra's jaw tightens. "He's three steps ahead, just like he said."
We sit in silence. Two people trapped in a spider's web with no way out.
"Professor Mitchell," I say slowly. "You said she was going to expose Marcus the day she died."
"Yes."
"What if she left evidence somewhere? Something he couldn't find or destroy?"
Ezra's eyes widen. "She gave me a key two days before she died. To her storage unit. I never knew why. I thought it was just for her research files, but I never looked. I was too destroyed after she died."
"We need to check that storage unit."
"Victoria, if Marcus finds out—"
"He already thinks I'm dying. He'll be too busy covering his tracks to notice I'm gone." I stand up. "This is our only chance."
Ezra hesitates, then nods. "The storage place is twenty minutes away. But we have to be careful. If Marcus is watching—"
A car engine roars to life in the parking lot.
We both turn. Headlights snap on, blinding us.
Marcus's car.
He's been watching us the entire time.
"Run!" Ezra grabs my hand.
We sprint across campus. Behind us, tires squeal. Marcus is coming after us.
My lungs burn. My legs scream. But I don't stop. Can't stop.
Ezra pulls me between two buildings, into the shadows. We press against the wall, trying not to breathe too loud.
Marcus's car crawls past, searching.
"He knows," I whisper. "He knows I'm not dying."
"He knows everything," Ezra says grimly. "He's always known. This is all part of his plan."
"Then what do we do?"
Ezra looks at me. In his eyes, I see the same thing I feel—terror, but also anger. We're done running. Done being victims.
"We go to the storage unit," he says. "We find whatever Professor Mitchell left behind. And we end this."
"What if there's nothing there?"
"Then we're already dead anyway."
He has a point.
We wait until Marcus's car disappears, then run to Ezra's truck parked two blocks away. He drives with the headlights off until we're far from campus.
My phone buzzes. A text from Marcus.
I SEE YOU, VICTORIA. WHEREVER YOU RUN, I'LL FIND YOU. YOU CAN'T ESCAPE YOUR OWN STORY. IT ENDS THE WAY I WRITE IT.
I show Ezra. His face goes pale.
"He's tracking your phone."
I throw it out the window.
Twenty minutes later, we pull up to a run-down storage facility on the edge of town. Ezra uses the key Professor Mitchell gave him. Unit 247.
The lock clicks. The door rolls up.
Inside, boxes are stacked floor to ceiling.
"She left all this?" I breathe.
"She must have been collecting evidence for years." Ezra steps inside. "If Marcus was destroying other people before her, she would have known. She would have documented everything."
We start opening boxes. Files. Photos. Recordings. Professor Mitchell was thorough.
Then I find it. A box labeled "FINAL EVIDENCE—IF I DIE, SEND TO FBI."
Inside are USB drives, notebooks, and a letter addressed to Ezra.
If you're reading this, I'm dead. Marcus Chen killed me. He's killed others. This box contains proof of his crimes going back fifteen years. I tried to stop him through official channels, but he's too connected. The only way to expose him is to bypass the university entirely. Take this to Special Agent Sarah Morrison at the FBI. She's investigating academic corruption. She'll believe you. Trust her. And Ezra—I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from him. But you're stronger than he thinks. End this. —Professor Sarah Mitchell
"We have it," Ezra whispers. "We actually have proof."
"Then let's—"
The lights in the storage unit go out.
In the darkness, I hear breathing that isn't ours.
"Did you really think," Marcus's voice says from somewhere in the black, "that I didn't know about this storage unit? Sarah told me about it before she jumped. She begged me not to hurt her students. I promised I wouldn't."
A click. A lighter flares.
Marcus is holding a can of gasoline.
"I lied."
He starts pouring it everywhere.