ELISE
Night has fallen by the time I finally move from the chair.
My family left hours ago, yet I stayed frozen in place. The room feels colder now. Shadows stretch across the walls, creeping closer.
I drag myself to the tiny bathroom and splash water on my face.
The cold barely touches the numbness inside me. When I look up, my reflection stares back. pale skin, hollow eyes… a stranger.
Once, I stood in boardrooms, made deals worth millions. Now, six months in this place has drained me, dulled everything sharp inside me.
"Forever." The word slips from my lips. Heavy. Final. "They're keeping me here forever."
A knock at the door startles me. It's not Nurse Wagner’s usual sharp tap. This one's softer. Hesitant.
I dry my face with a thin towel, then step back into the room. "Come in."
The door opens, revealing Natasha. She stands alone, no longer in her crisp pantsuit. Now, she wears a simple black dress with her hair loose around her shoulders.
A tray rests in her hand, holding a small paper cup and pills.
"You might need help sleeping tonight," she says, dripping with fake kindness.
My body tenses. I take a step back. "Where's Nurse Wagner?"
"On her dinner break." Natasha walks inside, closing the door quietly behind her. "I told her I'd handle your meds. Sister's privilege."
"You're not my sister."
"Stepsister, then," she replies smoothly, setting the tray on the bedside table.
She adjusts the cup and pills with slow, careful movements. "We've been through enough together to count as family, don't you think?"
I keep my distance with my eyes locked on her. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be off celebrating with Dad and Alexander?"
"They'll join us soon." Natasha leans against the wall, her gaze calm, too calm. "Dad had to make some calls for privacy. As for Alexander..." A small smile touches her lips. "He's making sure the security cameras in this wing stop working for a while."
A cold weight settles in my stomach. "What?"
"Did you really think signing those papers ended everything?" She laughs. "Oh, Elise. So clever, yet still so blind. Keeping you locked up was never the final plan."
My back hits the edge of the bed as I step away. "What are you saying?"
She picks up the cup, turning it in her fingers. "Some of the board still doubts your condition. They're not as convinced as we hoped."
My heart pounds and my hands turn clammy. "So locking me up isn't enough."
"Dad explained it clearly." Her voice stays light, almost casual, like we're discussing the weather. "As long as you're alive, you're a problem. A loose end."
The door opens again.
Alexander steps inside with his face unreadable. The hesitation I saw in him earlier is gone. Now, his expression is set. Cold.
Without a word, he turns and locks the door.
"Is everything set?" Alexander asks Natasha, not even looking at me.
"Almost." She lifts the paper cup. "She won't take the pills. Just like we thought."
He gives a slight nod before finally turning toward me. His eyes are distant like a stranger's. "This didn't have to be so difficult, Elise. You should have accepted what we gave you."
I swallow hard, my throat dry. "Alexander... you're involved in this?"
Natasha chuckles. "Involved? It was his idea. The injection, I mean. Much neater than Dad's other options."
Alexander walks to the window, pulling the curtains shut. "The men will be here in two minutes. Your dad arranged it himself."
A chill runs through me. "Men?" My voice shakes.
"Not real orderlies," Natasha replies smoothly, setting down the cup. "Security from our company. Loyal to Dad. They'll make sure everything goes smoothly."
Panic surges through me. I bolt for the door, but Alexander is faster.
He blocks my path, gripping my wrists. His hold isn't cruel, yet it's firm. Controlled. Like he's just finishing a job.
"Don't fight this," he murmurs. "It won't hurt. I made sure of that."
I struggle, my breathing uneven. "You planned this. All of you. From the start."
Alexander guides me backward. "Not from the start. We thought locking you away would be enough. But you've always been too stubborn. Too clever."
Then it hits me. My chest tightens. "The Singapore project," I whisper. "This is because of what I found, isn't it?"
Alexander's jaw tightens. "That's enough. Those files were private. You had no right."
A sharp knock cuts through the air.
Natasha steps forward, opening the door. Two men enter, dressed as orderlies. They are tall, serious, clearly not part of the hospital staff.
"Everything in place?" the taller one asks, scanning the room.
Alexander gives a curt nod. "No disturbances for thirty minutes."
The man doesn't hesitate. "The wing is empty. Cameras are on a loop. Staff is busy in the east building with a 'drill.'"
My heart pounds. I look at the people around me. My husband, my stepsister, these strangers who have come to watch me die. "You won't get away with this," I force out, trying to keep my voice steady.
Natasha sighs, almost amused. "No one will question a heart attack. A mentally unstable woman with a family history of heart failure? Perfectly reasonable." She tilts her head slightly. "Your mother died of one at forty-two, didn't she?"
She turns to the men. "Hold her down. She's stronger than she looks."
The orderlies step forward.
Alexander lets go, and they grab my arms. Their hands are firm and their grip unshakable.
Alexander steps back, watching like this is just business.
Natasha reaches into her purse and pulls out a small case. She snaps it open, revealing a syringe and a vial of clear liquid.
"Potassium chloride," she says, filling the syringe with precision. "Mixed with something to speed up your heart. Untraceable in a normal autopsy." She smiles slightly. "Alexander's pharmaceutical knowledge was quite useful."
A cold wave of fear sweeps over me. My skin turns icy. I can't move. Can't breathe.
They're going to kill me.
"Hold her arm still," Natasha orders, stepping closer with the syringe. "This has to go into a vein."
One of the men grabs my left arm, turning it to expose the inside of my elbow. I fight, but their grip is unbreakable.
"Please," I plead, searching their faces for any sign of mercy. "You don't have to do this. No amount of money is worth murder."
Neither of them reacts. Their expressions stay blank, their hands firm.
Natasha swipes an alcohol pad over my skin, the cold sting making me shiver.
"It'll be over fast," she murmurs, almost gently. "Just a little pinch, then sleep."
"Natasha," I try again, my voice cracking. "We grew up together. We shared secrets. Dreams. Doesn't that mean anything?"
For a moment, she hesitates with the needle hovering over my skin.
Hope flickers inside me.
Then she smiles. One that’s empty and hollow as her face twist into something I don't recognize.
"You're right," she whispers. "And I've waited so long for this."
With that, the needle sinks into my arm.
A sharp sting. Then fire spreads through my veins.
Natasha pulls it out, pressing a cotton ball over the spot.
"Done." She steps back, satisfied.
My heart pounds faster, each beat slamming into my ribs.
My vision blurs as darkness begins to creep in from the edges.
"You can let go," Natasha instructs. "She won't fight anymore."
The men release me.
My body collapses against the pillows, too heavy to move. My thoughts scatter, slipping away.
"How long?" Alexander checks his watch.
"Three, maybe four minutes," Natasha mutters, tucking the syringe back into her purse. "We should make it look natural. Like she just... never woke up."
They talk like I'm already gone, like I'm just a task they've completed. I try to speak, to beg, but only a faint gasp escapes.
Alexander leans over me. His touch is robotic as he arranges my limbs, setting me into a peaceful pose.
His hands aren't warm like they once were, aren't the same hands that once held mine at our wedding.
"I never loved you," he whispers. "You should know that before it ends."
I can't respond. My body is shutting down.
Pain swallows me whole, burning from the inside out. However, my mind stays sharp, crystal clear in my final moments.
I see it all: the choices that led me here, the mistakes I made, the people who turned their backs on me.
And then, fury. Blinding and all-consuming rage.
At Natasha, for her cruelty.
At Alexander, for his betrayal.
At my father, for planning my death like a simple business deal.
Natasha checks her watch. "We should leave. The night nurse will find her at 2 AM."
Alexander smooths a loose strand of hair from my forehead.
"I wish it hadn't come to this," he murmurs. "But you left us no choice. You never knew when to stop."
I want to scream, to curse him, to make him understand what he's done. Sadly, my voice, my body… everything has already slipped beyond my control.
I stare at Alexander, pouring every bit of my anger and heartbreak into my eyes.
He sees it. I know he does because he looks away, refusing to meet my gaze.
"It'll be over soon," he mutters, pushing himself up. "No more pain. No more struggle."
The room spins around me, everything tilting and shifting like a broken carousel. My heart pounds too fast, too uneven. Darkness creeps closer, swallowing the edges of my vision.
Alexander walks to the door and rests his hand on the knob. "Goodbye, Elise," he murmurs before stepping out.
They all do.
Now I'm alone. No one will come to save me. No last-minute hero. Everyone who could have helped is already out of the way.
My vision shrinks to a tiny speck of light as the world disappears into shadow.
I think about everything I'll never do, the fights I'll never finish, the secrets that will die with me. In those last seconds, one truth burns stronger than the rest.
They've won!
NATASHADad's not even looking at me anymore.I can see the disappointment radiating off him in waves, and it makes me want to crawl into a hole and die.Dad's always been selfish, always put his own interests first. It's one of the reasons he neglected Elise all her life, because he couldn't risk her rising up against him one day. But he expected me to be smarter than this. He expected me to win.Instead, I handed Elise the perfect weapon to destroy us all.My legs give out and I collapse on the velvet ottoman, sobbing so hard I can barely breathe.Everything hurts. My chest feels like it's being crushed in a vice.My head is pounding from crying. My throat is raw from screaming. My hands are shaking so badly I can't even wipe the tears from my face.But worse than the physical pain is the knowledge that this is all my fault.I'm the one who pushed too hard, too fast. I'm the one who got greedy and tried to destroy Elise before she could fight back. I'm the one who underestimated her
NATASHAThe sound of Dad's fist connecting with the massive TV screen makes me jump so hard I nearly fall off the couch.Glass explodes everywhere, skittering across our pristine marble floor like deadly confetti.“DAMN THAT DEVILS SPAWN!" Dad's voice cracks as he screams with his face this awful shade of purple I've never seen before.Veins bulge in his forehead, and for a terrifying second I think he might have a heart attack right here in our living room."DAMN THAT LITTLE WHORE!"He kicks at the broken glass, sending pieces flying across the room.One shard cuts his hand, but he doesn't even notice the blood dripping on our floor. He's completely lost it.But even with the TV destroyed, I can still see her face burned into my brain.Elise.Standing at that podium like she's some kind of fucking queen while destroying my entire life with every word that came out of her mouth.And worse is that the reporters hung on every word like the gospel.My hands won't stop shaking as I stare
ELISEThe room erupts into utter chaos of biting questions.Half the crowd is shouting indirect insults while the other half is shouting denials.Camera flashes intensify to a blinding degree and the sound level rises to a crescendo that threatens to drown out coherent thought.Words like, "HOW MANY MEN HAVE YOU SLEPT WITH TO GET REVENGE?" fly around.I wait, completely unmoved by the chaos surrounding me. My bodyguards shift slightly, ready to intervene if the crowd becomes physically aggressive, but I remain perfectly still at the podium.This is exactly what I wanted. Division. Confusion. The comfortable narrative they've all accepted beginning to crack under the weight of doubt.I wait for the chaos to die down before continuing."As for my father's little announcement yesterday..." I pause, and my voice carries a note of genuine amusement that's somehow more chilling than anger would be when I continue."Henry Blackwood seems to have forgotten a few crucial details about the fortu
ELISEMy bodyguards maintain their formation as I stride down the center aisle.The crowd parts before us, some reporters stumbling backward in their haste to avoid the advancing wall of muscle and menace.The auditorium is larger than it appeared from outside. Tiered seating rises toward the back, every level packed with journalists, photographers, and camera operators. The air conditioning struggles against the heat generated by so many bodies and electronic equipment, creating an oppressive atmosphere thick with anticipation and barely contained aggression.The hungry vultures seem thrown off for a beat. My composed entrance clearly not matching whatever broken, desperate woman they expected to see.I can feel their confusion ripple through the crowd like a physical force. Some lean forward in their seats, squinting as if trying to reconcile the poised figure before them with the narrative they've been fed.But predators adapt quickly. The moment of uncertainty passes, and their sen
ELISEI stand before the floor-length glass, watching my reflection with a small curve of my lips.My red Valentino dress is a statement of intent. The fabric hugs every curve with its angular neckline slashing across my collarbone in a way that screams danger.The hem stops just above my knees—professional enough to be taken seriously, yet short enough to remind them I don't play by their rules.My hair is swept into a severe chignon, not a strand out of place.I lean closer to the mirror, applying another coat of lipstick… bloodred and unapologetic.The color bleeds across my lips, transforming my mouth into something both beautiful and lethal. My eyes are rimmed with black, making my irises look almost supernatural in their intensity. Cold. Calculating. Unflinching.These are the eyes of a woman with nothing left to lose.The thought curls my lips into a smile that doesn't reach those eyes.I step back, assessing the final product.The world wants a villain? I'll give them one they
ELISEThe sound of hushed, urgent voices drags me from my restless sleep.My body feels heavy as though I’m wading through quicksand, yet my mind is clearer than it’s been in days.The fever has passed, but the uneasy tension in the air makes my skin prickle.Maria and Vera are near the doorway with their heads close together, whispering in tones that are sharp and hurried.“She’s still recovering,” Maria voice filters to my ears, her accent thickening with every word. “Miss Vera, por favor, let her rest. This can wait.”Vera’s clutching a sleek tablet to her chest. “You don’t understand. These are direct orders. She has to know. Now. Before it gets any worse.” “What’s going on?” My voice cuts through the tension, hoarse but unyielding.Both women freeze, caught mid-conspiracy.Maria’s face is pure concern with her eyes darting to Vera, who looks like she’s about to bolt.For a moment, neither speaks as the silence stretches.“Nothing for you to worry about, mi niña,” Maria finally b