Chapter 3

It all made sense.

No wonder Carl, Mandy, and Victor were so desperate to kill me. They had already lined up my executioner—a renowned surgical team flown in from abroad, available for one day only—to carve out my heart.

The one week I had managed to buy myself wasn't just a reprieve. It was their deadline. Regardless, they would do everything they could to ensure I ended up on that operating table before the week was over.

My temporary haven had become the countdown to my death. I had seven days to think of a way out.

…

Ezra's warning had kept Carl and Mandy in check, at least temporarily. I knew they would never sit back and let the week slip away, so I had to make the first move.

Using my ability to hear thoughts, I began paying close attention to the moments when Victor hesitated.

For example, whenever Mandy tearfully said, "Only Eloise's heart can save Mia," he would instinctively think, "But she's still a living, breathing person…"

Although it was always buried a moment later with "But Mia can't die," I also discovered a trump card without looking for one.

Victor often thought about a girl who had once saved his life when they were children. He called her Little Sunny. Sometimes, he would find himself humming the off-key song she used to sing.

I wasn't Little Sunny, and neither was Mia. Somehow, she had stolen that credit by relying on the system's guidance.

I couldn't expose the truth just yet. I had to wait for the right time to plant a seed of doubt in Victor's mind. While I waited for that opportunity, I searched for other ways to save myself.

I secretly hid a pair of tweezers, memorized the nurses' shift patterns during daily rounds, and mapped out the blind spots of the hospital room's surveillance cameras.

Every time I interacted with Ezra, I tried my best to send him hints.

Once everything was prepared, the opportunity I had been waiting for finally arrived. Victor came to visit. He wore the same fake expression of concern as usual.

"Hey, Eloise. Feeling better?" he asked, his eyes studying me carefully.

"Gosh, she's pale. Please don't let anything be wrong with her heart. Mia can't wait much longer."

I sneered inwardly. Outside, I appeared confused and fragile as I shook my head lightly. "My head still feels heavy. I feel like I've lost something really important. Victor, you'll protect me, won't you?"

He nodded perfunctorily. "Of course. Just focus on recovering."

"Dude. Women are such a hassle," he complained silently.

I lowered my eyes and absentmindedly picked at the corner of my blanket. In a voice so soft that it was reminiscent of a whisper, I began humming a faint, broken melody.

It was the exact tune Victor's Little Sunny had sung all those years ago.

He reacted as if he had been struck by lightning. His eyes widened, and his voice rose an octave. "How do you know this song?"

"No way. Only Little Sunny and I knew this. Even Mia said she didn't remember it!"

I lifted my misty eyes, making myself look even more confused and helpless. "I don't know. It's like this melody keeps coming back to me. Have you heard it before, Victor?"

Victor stared at me, his expression marred by shock, confusion, guilt, and conflict—a mix of everything.

"Could she be… No way! Mia is Little Sunny! Mia was the one who saved me! But this tune…"

Seeing that I had pushed him far enough, I deliberately let my exhaustion show and stopped speaking. His mind was already tangled beyond repair, and he practically fled the room.

I knew that once the seed of doubt was planted, it would slowly take root and grow.

At that moment, the hospital room door opened. Ezra walked in with his usual unreadable expression. He stopped by my bed and flipped through my medical chart.

"Has this woman lost her mind? She just finished messing with her family, and now, she's going after her fiance. Does she seriously think humming a song will awaken that man's conscience? That's a whole new level of stupidity."

Despite his sarcastic thoughts, his expression remained as placid as a lake. In his usual flat tone, he said, "Ms. Gardner, your methods of survival are quite… unconventional."

Wait. Did Ezra know about the song? Or had he simply figured out what I was trying to do?

I dropped the weak pretense and put on an indifferent look.

"Dr. Thatcher, if a hospital and its doctors can't entirely guarantee a patient's safety and their family is constantly trying to kill them, what's wrong with them trying every possible way to survive?"