CHAPTER 10

CHLOE’S POISON

I heard the first rumor in the women’s lounge on the thirty-second floor.

Two wives of board members stood near the mirror, speaking just loud enough to be overheard.

“—still not herself after the hospital. Chloe says she stares at nothing for long stretches. Sometimes she doesn’t answer when spoken to.”

“Poor thing. And the way she spoke to Ethan at the party… that wasn’t normal.”

“Chloe’s worried she’s heading toward another episode. She didn’t say it directly, of course, but you can tell.”

I stepped out of the stall, crossed to the sink, and washed my hands slowly.

Both women went silent.

I met their eyes in the mirror and smiled politely.

“Ladies.”

They murmured greetings. Their reflections looked away first.

I dried my hands and left.

The poison was already moving.

By afternoon it had reached the lower executive floor. An assistant who used to greet me with real warmth now spoke too carefully, like I might break or lash out. In the elevator, two managers from finance stopped mid-sentence when I walked in. One of them asked, a little too gently, if I was feeling all right.

I told him I was fine.

He nodded too fast.

Chloe was good at this.

She never accused. She never raised her voice. She simply shared concern. Soft sentences. Worried eyes. The kind of comments that sounded like love if you didn’t know better.

“I’m just afraid she’s under too much pressure.”

“She hasn’t been sleeping. I can see it.”

“After what happened, it’s normal to be fragile… I just hope she lets us help her.”

Fragile.

The word followed me through the building like a scent.

I spent the rest of the day in my office with the door open. I took every call. I signed every document. I walked the halls slowly, letting people see that my hands were steady and my voice was clear.

It didn’t matter.

Once the idea of instability existed, every neutral expression became evidence. Every silence became a symptom.

Late in the afternoon Chloe came to my office herself.

She closed the door behind her and sat down without waiting for an invitation, the way she always had.

“You canceled lunch with Mrs. Grant,” she said.

“I was busy.”

“She told people you seemed distracted when she called.” Chloe’s voice was gentle. “Ariana, I’m worried about you.”

I looked at her.

She wore the same soft expression she used in front of our father. The one that made people want to protect her.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“You’re not. You’ve been different since the hospital. Distant. Cold. The way you handled Ethan in front of everyone… that wasn’t the sister I know.”

There it was.

The real sentence underneath the concern.

I leaned back in my chair. “Maybe the sister you know was too easy to predict.”

Chloe’s eyes flickered. “I’m not your enemy.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

She stood up and walked around the desk, stopping beside my chair. Close enough that her perfume settled over me.

“People are talking,” she said quietly. “They’re saying the collapse changed you. That you’re not stable enough for the responsibilities you’ve been taking on. I keep defending you, but it’s getting harder.”

I almost laughed.

She was telling me about the fire while holding the match.

I turned my head and looked up at her. “Then stop defending me.”

For a second her face went completely still.

Then the soft smile returned. “Don’t be dramatic. I’m on your side. I always have been.”

She rested a hand on my shoulder. The same gesture she had used for years.

“Just… be careful how you appear right now,” she said. “Father is already concerned. If the board starts questioning your judgment, it won’t be easy to reverse.”

I reached up and gently removed her hand.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chloe held my gaze for another moment, searching for a crack. When she didn’t find one, she nodded and left.

The door clicked shut.

I sat alone in the quiet office and listened to the faint sound of her heels fading down the corridor.

She was planting the same seeds she had used in the original future. Medical concern. Emotional instability. A slow, careful campaign to make every decision I made look questionable.

Last time it had worked because I hadn’t seen it coming.

This time I watched every step.

I opened my laptop and created a new folder. Inside it I began saving timestamps, names, and exact phrasing of every rumor that reached me. The women’s lounge. The finance managers. Mrs. Grant’s canceled lunch. Chloe’s own words in this office.

I didn’t confront anyone.

I didn’t defend myself in the hallways.

I didn’t correct the soft voices that went quiet when I approached.

I simply collected them.

Because poison only works when the victim spends all their energy proving they’re not sick.

I had no intention of proving anything.

Let them talk.

Let Chloe spread her careful concern.

Let the board members glance at me with polite worry.

I would give them nothing to grab onto.

No outbursts. No tears. No visible cracks.

Just a woman who showed up, did the work, and smiled when people expected her to break.

The rumors would keep spreading.

And every person who repeated them would eventually become proof of something else entirely.

I closed the laptop, stood, and walked to the window.

Far below, the city moved the way it always did.

Behind me, the office stayed quiet.

I said nothing.

I planned everything.