I woke up to the steady beep of machines and the sharp, clean smell of hospital antiseptic burning my nose. My mouth was dry as sand, tongue stuck to the roof. My head pounded—thump, thump—like someone was inside swinging a hammer. Everything felt wrong. Heavy. Like my body wasn't mine anymore.
A hand squeezed mine. Tight. Familiar.
I turned my head slowly. Cynthia. Sitting beside the bed, eyes red and swollen, face pale like she hadn't slept in days.
"Lys?" Her voice cracked. "Oh God, you're awake."
I tried to speak. Croaked instead. "Cyn… what…?"
She leaned closer, brushing hair from my forehead. Her hand was cold. Shaking. "You scared the shit out of me. You're in the hospital. You… you collapsed."
The room came into focus. White walls. Tubes in my arm. Monitors blinking numbers I didn't understand. Curtains half-drawn, gray light leaking in. My heart picked up—beep beep beep faster on the machine.
"Collapsed?" My voice sounded small. Far away. "How…?"
Before she could answer, the door opened. A doctor walked in—middle-aged guy, white coat, clipboard, face serious but not panicked. He nodded at Cynthia, then looked at me.
"Miss Alyssa. Good, you're with us." He flipped a page. "I'm Dr. Harlan. We've got your test results back. You were brought in unconscious yesterday. Dehydrated, low blood pressure, organ stress."
I swallowed. My throat hurts. "What's wrong with me?"
He paused. Just long enough for my stomach to drop.
"You've been poisoned."
The word hung there. Heavy. Impossible.
"Poisoned?" I whispered. Like if I said it quietly, it wouldn't be real.
He nodded. "Slow-acting compound. Thallium. Rat poison levels, basically. Odorless. Tasteless. It builds up over time—weeks, maybe months. Causes fatigue, hair loss, nerve damage, liver and kidney failure. You're lucky you collapsed when you did. Another week or two…"
He kept talking—treatment, antidotes, monitoring—but the words blurred.
Thallium.
Poison.
Someone fed me poison.
Slow.
On purpose.
My mind raced back. Flashed.
The teas.
Every day. Elena brought them to my room. "You look so pale, little sis. Drink this. It'll help you sleep."
Her hand steady. Eyes soft. Watching me sip.
The cups she handed me herself. No one else touches them.
Victor's "stomach ache" that day—the one that kept him home so we could…
Was that the start?
The shadow at the gate as I drove away. Tall. Still. Watching me leave.
My breath came short. Chest tight. Like the room was shrinking.
Cynthia's grip tightened. "Lys? Hey, stay with me."
I couldn't. Thoughts spun wild.
Seventy miles. She'd said I collapsed seventy miles away.
I remembered packing. Throwing clothes in bags. Driving fast. Gates clanging shut. Then… nothing. Black.
But how did they call her?
My phone's locked. Face ID. Passcode no one knows.
How did strangers unlock it?
Unless…
Someone wanted me to be found, wanted me alive—for now.
The doctor left and the door clicked softly.
Cynthia turned to me, eyes wide. "Poisoned? Lys, what the fuck is going on? Who would—"
My phone buzzed on the table. Loud in the quiet room.
Then again.
And again.
I grabbed it and my hands still numb. My screen lit up with notifications.
Elena: You weren't in your room this morning, I'm worried sick. You left without saying goodbye to Lily? She's crying. Call me when you can. Love you.
Victor: Lys? Where are you? Leaving was the best option.
Robert: Told you, The last chance is gone. Your mum's getting the full story today. Think about her heart.
Poor mum, if only she knew her daughter is fucking her son-in-law
Old threats felt like nothing now.
Because the real one was texting hearts and "love you."
I stared at Elena's message. "Love you". After feeding me poison slowly by the day with a smile on your face.
The room spun harder. Beeps sped up.
Cynthia took the phone gently, she reads the texts, "get some rest lys" she says holding on to my phone
I couldn't speak,, hot tears were dripping down my eyes
Everything crashed.
The affair. Victor's hands on me. His cock inside me while she slept down the hall. The note. The hanging thing. Bells in the night.
All games.
Tests.
Leading to this poison.
She knew.
And she'd chosen this.
Quiet death.
While hugging me.
Calling me little sis.
Tucking Lily in.
I wanted to scream. To throw the phone. To rip the tubes out and run back—grab her throat and make her admit it.
But I was weak. Stuck. Body failing from what she'd done.
Rage boiled. Mixed with terror. Grief for the sister I thought I had.
Cynthia held me as I shook. "Talk to me. Please."
I looked at her. Tears spilled.
All the shame. The lust. The lies. The hanging cock with his name. The bells. The poison.
It poured out in one broken whisper.
"Victor's cock has ruined me."
But even as I said it—curled in that hospital bed, poison still in my veins—something shifted.
I wasn't running anymore.
I wasn't the victim.
Not yet.
Elena wanted to play slow?
Fine.
I'd play too.
I'd go back.
Smile bigger.
Drink her tea.
Watch closer.
Take Victor—harder. Deeper. Right under her nose.
Confirm it was her.
And when I did…
I'd make sure she felt every drop of what she'd given me.
Because if she wanted war…
I was ready.
And Victor?
He was mine now.
More than ever.