Chapter 4: The Poison He Fed Me

Aurelia’s POV

The following morning, Cassia lent me a pressed blouse and tailored skirt from her wardrobe.

It felt strange yet empowering to step out in clothes that actually fit and flattered me. For the first time in years, I didn’t look like the worn-down version of myself I had been forced to become.

We arrived at Emerald Headquarters, the glass façade towering above like a symbol of everything new. My heart pounded as I tilted my head back to read the silver letters gleaming against the building, Emerald.

Cassia gave my hand a squeeze before we parted ways, her office on the middle floor while I made my way to the top for the interview.

The waiting area was quiet but tense. Two other candidates sat there, young, confident, perfectly put together. Their polished looks almost made my knees give way, but I straightened my shoulders. I’d survived worse than this, I could face a panel of strangers.

When my name was finally called, I walked into the office, expecting the Mr. Knightley Cassia had mentioned. Instead, my steps faltered.

Seated behind the mahogany desk, a nameplate gleaming before him, was a man I never thought I’d see again. Julien Knightley, CEO of Emerald. He wasn't a store manager after all, he was Knightley’s son.

For a heartbeat, I froze. Memories of our brief encounter flooded back, but I willed them down, forcing composure onto my face. This was an interview, not a reunion.

I sat across from him, spine straight, palms resting lightly on my lap. Professional, calm and detached.

But then, Julien leaned forward, his eyes catching mine with a warmth I hadn’t expected.

“I’m glad you decided to start again,” he said. “At thirty.”

A startled laugh nearly escaped, but I pressed it down and offered only the faintest smile.

He corrected himself, lips quirking. “Well, not thirty yet. But still, I’m glad you came here.”

I inclined my head politely, hiding the flicker of emotion his words stirred. “Thank you, sir.”

“I know you’re the co-founder of Magical Perfume,” Julien said, his tone measured but unmistakably impressed.

My eyes widened in surprise. For years, no one had mentioned that chapter of my life.

“Mind telling me what happened?” he asked, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Why you refused the position offered to you here five years ago?”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. This wasn’t a question about my résumé or my strengths. This was about me.

“I…” My voice faltered, but I steadied it. “I had personal circumstances that didn’t allow me to take the offer. It wasn’t what I wanted, but I had no choice.”

Then I went ahead to explain the best way I could. He listened in silence, eyes never leaving mine, as I explained, carefully but honestly, the storm of my past, the reasons I had disappeared from the industry, the opportunities I had been forced to abandon.

When I finished, he nodded once. “The interview is over. We’ll contact you if you pass.”

I blinked. That was it? No standard questions, no skill tests. Just this.

But I rose with grace, smoothing my borrowed skirt. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

As soon as the door closed behind me, the strength drained from my body. I had held myself together in front of Julien Knightley, but outside the office, my head swam.

I managed to get to the elevator and got outside the building. The marble pillar beside the entrance became my anchor as dizziness rolled over me in waves.

I drew a slow, shaky breath, then flagged down a cab with the money Cassia had slipped me. “Nearest hospital, please,” I murmured to the driver.

Inside the clinic, I submitted to tests, fingers cold against the form I filled out. I was given an injection to help with the dizziness before the test results came out. The waiting room clock ticked louder than it should.

Finally, the doctor called me in. He was middle-aged, with a kindly face that didn’t soften his words.

“This dizziness,” he said, glancing at the report, “is due to a high accumulation of birth control pills in your system. I’d strongly advise you to take only the recommended dose from now on.”

My mind went blank. “Excuse me, doctor? Birth control pills?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “It’s quite clear from your bloodwork.”

A chill crawled up my spine. “Doctor… I think you’re mistaken. I’ve been trying to conceive for five years. I’ve never been on birth control.”

He handed me the report. The medical terms blurred, but one thing stood out, glaring in black and white, the tests confirmed steady ingestion of contraceptives.

“How?” The word escaped me in a whisper.

“Perhaps you’ve been taking them unknowingly,” he said gently. “That would explain the overdose and your symptoms.”

My fingers tightened around the paper, knuckles white. The room seemed to tilt, not from dizziness this time but from something far colder.

My mind spun. Then it struck me, the supplements. The ones Grant had insisted I take daily, the ones he claimed would “help with the infertility.”

His family owned a pharmaceutical company. Every pill in our home came from him. Every hospital visit, every prescription, neatly arranged through his family friends. I had never once bought my own medicine.

Which meant those so-called supplements were nothing more than birth control pills.

Fury ignited in my chest. He had demanded I give him a female child, shamed me for failing, all while poisoning me with pills that robbed me of the very chance. He had controlled me, broken me, made me believe my body was failing.

I didn’t wait to hear the doctor’s explanation. I stormed out of the clinic, the world outside blurring past the taxi windows. Rage and betrayal burned through me, each thought louder than the last.

By the time I reached the house, my hands trembled so badly I almost dropped my bag. It was silent inside, but my mind was anything but. I needed proof. I needed those pills. If I could bring them back to the doctor, everything would be clear.

I took the stairs two at a time, heart pounding. But as I neared the bedroom, another sound froze me in place.

Rhythmic, unmistakable. The slap of skin. The rise and fall of moans that belong to someone.

My chest tightened, fury and heartbreak tangling in a single, suffocating knot. I shoved the door open.

There he was, Grant. Thrusting into Selene, her back arched on our bed, their groans filling the room like a cruel symphony.

The sight shattered what little remained of me.