Chapter 7 - The Poisoned Blood
The red binder slipped from my fingers, hitting the concrete floor with a heavy thud.
Every decline, every seizure, every tear I had shed over my mother's failing health had been manufactured.
"We have to go back to the estate immediately," I said, the rage turning my blood to absolute ice.
"If Celeste realizes we survived the motel, she will accelerate the timeline."
Delia grabbed my arm, her eyes wide with desperate urgency.
"Julian, if they are using a synthetic neurotoxin, stopping the injections won't be enough to save her."
"We need the specific antidote, and only her doctor will have it."
I picked up my rifle from the desk, checking the magazine with terrifying, mechanical precision.
"Then we are going to pay Dr. Aris Thorne a visit."
We sped back across the city, driving recklessly through the snow-covered streets of the North Shore.
Dr. Thorne's private clinic was a fortress of glass and steel, heavily guarded by private security.
I didn't bother with a stealth approach.
Marcus drove the heavy armored sedan directly through the front iron gates, shattering the barricade into twisted metal.
I kicked the car doors open before the vehicle even stopped moving.
Delia and I stormed the lobby, catching the corrupt security team completely off guard.
I moved through the chaos like a shadow, eliminating anyone who stood between me and the executive wing.
We breached Thorne's private office, finding the wealthy doctor cowering behind his mahogany desk.
I grabbed him by the collar of his expensive suit and slammed him against the glass wall.
"Where is the antidote?" I roared, pressing the barrel of my gun under his chin.
Thorne wept in terror, frantically pointing toward a small biometric safe in the corner of the room.
"Open it, or I will blow your head off right now," I promised.
He scrambled to the safe, pressing his thumb to the scanner, and pulled out a small silver case containing three vials of clear liquid.
Delia snatched the case from his trembling hands, expertly inspecting the labels.
"This is it," she confirmed, quickly loading a syringe.
We locked Thorne in his own office and sprinted back to the car, racing toward my family estate.
We bypassed the main gates, using the old service tunnels to infiltrate the house unnoticed.
We reached my mother's master suite, finding her lying motionless in the sterile white bed.
Delia wasted no time, injecting the antidote directly into my mother's intravenous line.
We waited in agonizing silence for ten brutal minutes.
Slowly, the monitors began to beep with a stronger, steadier rhythm.
My mother's eyelids fluttered open, her gaze finally clearing from the heavy fog of the poison.
She looked at me, a profound, peaceful clarity returning to her face for the first time in years.
She reached out with a trembling hand, grabbing my wrist with shocking strength.
"Julian," she rasped, her voice dry and broken.
May you like
"It wasn't Celeste who paid the doctor to poison me."
"It was Ewan."
