She's Weird.

General POV:

Madden stood stiffly beside the doctor, barely able to contain his disinterest.

“She was poisoned,” Dr. Halverson said, tapping her clipboard. “Subtle. Deliberate. Absorbed through the skin—likely in something she used daily. Lotion, perfume...”

Madden growled low under his breath. Perfume? That stupid rose-scented one she sprayed every morning like it was a ritual? He always hated the cloying sweetness of it. Now he hated it even more. But that couldn't be it. Now he remembered her words about the woman in red heels.

“She has enemies,” he muttered, more to himself than the doctor. “Of course she does.”

Whatever she goes, she loves causing trouble. If she's not snagging other girls boyfriends, she's slamming someone's head on the coffee table. Just last week, she committed arson on a woman's house that took her spot in the modeling world. She was burnt in the process but didn't care.

Such bitchiness.

Dr. Halverson gave him a careful look. “Well, let’s just be thankful she survived. But whoever did this—they meant for her to suffer before she died.”

Madden’s hand curled into a fist. He didn’t respond. Instead, he left the doctor behind and walked toward her room. The hallway buzzed with sterile light and hushed voices. He passed a nurse carrying a tray of antibiotics, nodded once, and pushed open the door to her private suite.

Isadora was asleep. Or sedated. Her features were slack, her chest rising and falling beneath the thin hospital blanket. Tubes ran along her wrist and bruises bloomed like violets on her throat which were caused by the poison.

He stared at the tattoos on body, remembering she got it when she realized it annoyed him. She's always doing things to piss him off.

Madden stepped closer, as she stirred. “The demoness is still alive. If only you'd just fúcking die at once!" He spat in disgust.

And Calla heard it– clearly. Her mind was a bit groggy and all she could think of was Lucas perched over her with the syringe of blue liquid in hand, ready to kill her..

Her lashes fluttered open and she screamed out horrifically. “NO! STAY AWAY FROM ME!”

Madden blinked. “What the hell—”

A bedpan flew across the room and clocked him in the shoulder with a metallic clang. Before he could recover, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a wild, panic-fueled tackle.

He stumbled back, grabbing her waist to keep from falling. “Isadora… what the fuck are you doing?!”

“YOU WON’T KILL ME AGAIN, LUCAS!” Calla screamed, tearily.

Madden lost his balance and slammed down on the floor, the woman now fully straddling him, fists pounding on his chest. His arms shot up to block her hits but she wasn't relenting.

“Jesus Christ, stop—what are you talking about?!” Madden was confused as hell.

“YOU POISONED ME!” she yelled. “WITH THE PERFUME! I KNOW IT WAS YOU—YOU SNAKE!”

“I didn’t poison you, you lunatic!” he yelled back aggressively.

“You think you can kill me twice???" She said, slapping him hard on his face, her eyes wet with tears and slightly closed.

He grabbed her wrists and rolled slightly, trying to push her off, but she locked her thighs around his waist like a wrestler and shrieked, “I’M NOT DYING AGAIN!”

The door burst open and two security guards skidded to a stop, jaws dropping in shock.

And there, on the pristine hospital floor, lay Madden Blackwell the multimillionaire, emotionally unavailable, known to intimidate CEOs into stuttering, on his back, pinned by a wild-eyed woman in a gown yelling like a lunatic.

Madden lifted his head slightly and met the guards’ eyes. “It’s not what it looks like.”

One of the guards radioed in backup. The other just slowly nodded. “Right. Of course. Should we give you two a minute, or...?”

“I SWEAR I WILL RIP OUT YOUR KIDNEYS,” she added, fully feral.

“Oh my god,” Madden groaned. “Isadora . It’s me. Madden. Your husband. Not Lucas.”

She paused, blinking rapidly. Her hands were still gripping his shirt. Her breath came in short gasps. “…Madden?” she whispered.

“Yes.” He exhaled. “Me. The emotionally distant husband. Not the murderer.”

Her eyes widened, seeing his cold face clearly. “Oh,” she said, voice cracking. “Shit. Fúcking shit!” she instantly got up from him as if stung.

"Yeah– ‘shit’ What's wrong with you??" Madden glared angrily. His clothes were now ruined

“I'm sorry. I just had a crazy nightmare.. I didn't mean to do that. Are you hurt?" Calla’s lashes fluttered, cutely.

Madden looked like he was slapped with a fish. He exhaled sharply before walking away to make a call.

Calla sat in silence. How stupid of her to attack him. But how is it her fault? Why did he utter those scary words about death? Who does that??

She looked up slowly, staring at the mirror in front of her..

Isadora was certainly beautiful in a vile cruel way. Her black hair was tinted three colors at the edges. WOW , she's never really taken a good look at her body.Then her gaze swept down her arms,

“Oh my God!” she croaked, her voice hoarse with disbelief, staring at her reflection.

Her gown had slipped off her shoulder slightly, revealing ink—a lot of ink. Twisting black webs, intricately detailed spiders with gleaming red eyes crawling down her collarbone, disappearing beneath her gown.

Panic surged like a flood. “No, no, get it off! Get it off!” she whimpered, clawing at her skin, as if she could peel the tattoos away.

Madden’s voice was amused. “What the hell are you doing?” He lifted a brow. “ You should answer that, Isadora. One minute you’re irrational and scared of a nightmare– totally believable by the way.” – His voice was infused with sarcasm– " and now you’re screaming about tattoos like you’ve never seen them before. Which is impressive, considering half your body is inked like a cursed book. The moment I found you at the bar…. everything has…has changed.”

Her lips parted. She almost said, I’m not Isadora, but stopped. She could feel the memories although they were agmented and bitter. She retained some of Isadora's memories and Jesus…they were lots of sexual shits and dicks too.

God, is her head a p*rn platform now??

She got back on the bed and pulled the blanket tighter around her, “I didn’t ask for this.”

Isadora's mind is a dirty and scary place. A memory of her sucking three dicks at once hit her and she nearly screamed out.

“No,” Madden muttered, standing. “But you’ll live with it. That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Living with the consequences of your disasters.”

She flinched as her breath stuttered. And then a strange pressure gripped her abdomen. Her body felt heavier and her stomach twisted.

No. Oh no. Not now.

She shifted, legs trembling under the blanket, trying to move. “I need to—I need the bathroom.”

Madden was already reaching for the nurse call button, but she waved him off, mortified. “I can go,” she said quickly. “Just help me up—”

Madden rushed to her, trying to pull her up, but her body betrayed her and warmth bloomed between her legs, seeping through the sheets in a humiliating rush.

Her eyes went wide in horror. She sat back immediately and yanked the blanket up instinctively, trying to cover it—but it was too late as a sickening yellow drip fell on his leg.

Madden froze. He looked down slowly. Then back up at her. His voice was flat. Deadly. “Did you just—?”

“No! It’s—It’s healing fluid! From the IV!” she burst out, cheeks burning. “I SWEAR!”

His brows rose. “Healing fluid?”

“Yes! From the—look, it was a reaction to the medication or—or maybe your face. I got stressed!”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, like he didn’t know whether to throttle her or laugh. He stood slowly, looking at his soaked shoes with a blank expression. “So... not the healing kind of fluid then.”

She grabbed the pillow and groaned into it. “I’m going to die. Again.”

He stared at her, lost. Since when is Isadora dramatic?? Something has changed. Maybe she's putting on act but the suffocating feeling he gets when he's around her, is gone.

Why is she acting weird???