Chapter 8

Hearing those words, Noah's expression changed completely.

He immediately contacted the Medical Council and brought in Owen Webb, a drug authentication expert.

When Owen arrived, he assumed it was just a labeling error.

But after examining the vials, his face grew darker and darker.

"The outer labels use the hospital's official security film, and the printed codes check out in the system.

"But the caps show signs of secondary sealing, and the laser codes on the bottom don't match any VRX-17 production records."

I immediately recounted the full sequence of events.

Owen picked up two vials and compared them.

"The 0719-B vials the hospital sent for testing are legitimate, which is why results kept coming back normal.

"The 0719-X vials were disguised with 0719-B labels. Looking only at the system and outer packaging, it would be difficult to spot the difference."

Noah frowned.

"But within the same tray, why were some children fine while others were infected?"

I set the two vials on the table.

"Because the legitimate and contaminated syringes were mixed together.

"The children who received 0719-B doses were fine. The infections only started once we began using the 0719-X doses."

Owen nodded.

"Theoretically, yes. As long as whoever made the switch controlled the number of contaminated doses, it would create intermittent cases.

"During random spot-checks, the technician would pull legitimate doses, and the results would naturally come back negative.

"After the incident, swap out the remaining 0719-X, and only the normal batch is left at the scene."

The look in Noah's eyes finally shifted.

But he quickly raised a new concern.

"Right now, all we can prove is that the vaccine was switched.

"We still have no evidence showing who applied the labels or placed the contaminated syringes in the tray.

"And you're the attending physician. The person with the easiest access to those drugs."

"I'll cooperate fully with the investigation."

I met his gaze without flinching.

"You can check my phone, my accounts, my office, and every medical record I've ever filed.

"But that last tray didn't come from me. I didn't retrieve it from the pharmacy."

Noah asked immediately.

"Who delivered it?"

"The nurse on duty brought it into the treatment room."

"Why did the nurse switch trays?"

I closed my eyes and replayed everything that had happened before the incident.

That nurse wasn't normally assigned to vaccine preparation.

She had told me the original nurse had been pulled to the ER on short notice, so she was stepping in.

At the time, I'd been busy checking on the children and hadn't questioned who had changed the schedule.

But the number of people with the authority to reassign nurses, access the cold storage, and modify project protocols was very small.

"Who was in charge of staffing for this vaccination session?"

"The project's deputy director."

"Name."

My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms.

In my past life, my parents had traveled from pack to pack carrying evidence to appeal my case, only to die branded as accomplices.

Among the infected children, some were paralyzed for life. Some didn't survive to see the next day.

And I'd gone to my grave swallowing wolfsbane, never knowing where I'd truly lost.

In this life, if I hadn't found those double-layered labels, every tragedy would have repeated itself.

Rage blazed like fire in my chest.

"Vanessa Hart."

Noah looked at me.

"Who is she?"

"My adopted sister. Deputy chief of pediatrics.

"And the deputy director of the VRX-17 project."