Chapter 1: The Poisoned Echoes

Vicky

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Victoria, but you have a severe brain complication. Any sudden shock could end your life.”

The doctor’s words hit me hard in that quiet exam room. For four long weeks I’d been getting more dizzy and feeling sick in the mornings. Deep down I kept hoping it meant I was pregnant with my husband’s baby.

“The swelling is critical,” Dr. George warned, leaning in with panic written all over his face. “A single spike in grief or anger will trigger a fatal stroke. You need to get your affairs in order immediately, so you can get hospitalized.”

Fear grabbed my chest. If I could die any second, I had to protect Philip. Through my tears, I thought, I need to sign everything over to him today—my whole inheritance and the power to handle my money—before it’s too late.

I needed him. I wanted to fall into his arms, sign whatever papers he needed, and hear him say we’d face this together.

I jumped in a taxi. The ride back to our big house was a blur. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. When I unlocked the front door, the place was quiet. I kicked off my shoes. My head was pounding.

I walked down the hall toward his office. His voice came through the heavy wooden doors. The phone was on speaker.

“…and the clinic said her brain symptoms are getting worse right on schedule,” he said. His voice had no kindness in it at all.

I froze, my hand almost on the door handle.

“Are you sure that fat idiot hasn’t figured anything out, Phil?” Jane’s voice giggled through the speaker.

My heart dropped. That was Jane—my best friend since high school. The same woman who sat at my table yesterday, laughing at my jokes and holding my hand like a sister.

“Figured it out?” Philip laughed meanly. “Victoria is as dumb as she is heavy. Jane, your idea to have Dr. George give her that dying diagnosis today was pure genius. She got so scared when he said any shock could kill her that she ran out of the clinic crying.”

“I told you it would work,” Jane said, sounding pleased with herself. “I knew if the doctor told her she was dying, she’d panic and make sure her precious husband was taken care of. She’s probably racing home right now, desperate to sign over control of her whole empire to you before she drops dead.”

“You really know how her simple mind works,” Philip said, sounding darkly happy. “She actually thinks four weeks of bad dizziness means she’s pregnant. Every morning when I give her those pills she looks up at me with those pathetic eyes, almost purring with thanks.”

Horror crashed over me. My whole body started shaking. I couldn’t breathe.

“Just make sure she signs those papers today, Phil,” Jane pushed, greed clear in her voice. “What if she goes to another doctor before she signs?”

“She won’t. I’ve made her trust only Dr. George and our family clinic,” he answered coldly. “The stuff mixed with the poison is working perfectly. It keeps her weak, confused, helpless, and unable to get pregnant.”

My heart hammered so hard my vision went blurry at the edges.

“And what if something happens to her before she signs?” Jane asked, a little worry in her tone.

“That’s why your plan to scare her today was so important!” he snapped, pure greed in his voice. “Her late father set up a rock-solid bloodline trust. If she dies before signing those papers, her whole multi-billion-dollar fortune goes straight to her younger sister. I only get a tiny bit as her husband and her greedy aunt and uncle get nothing either.

I’ve spent three long, miserable years putting up with her touch, feeling disgusted every time I had to put my hands on her heavy waist, just to get her money. I need her to sign those documents today so we can finally be rich!”

No.

No, no, no.

I shook my head. This had to be some sick dream. My hands flew to my mouth. Hot tears ran down my cheeks. My knees felt weaker than they already were.

Horror exploded in my chest. Three years of marriage. Three years of sweet lies and daily ‘vitamins.’ Dr. George’s diagnosis was Jane’s trap to scare me into giving away everything that was mine by birth. The pills were slow poison. They were all in this together.

Suddenly a terrible pain exploded inside my head.

“Aaaggh!”

A strangled scream tore out of me. I crashed to my knees, clutching my head as burning fire ripped through my brain. Dr. George’s warning rang in my mind—not as a fake story, but as the real damage the poison was doing to my blood vessels: “Any sudden spike in shock or rage will trigger a fatal bleed…”

The wooden doors flew open. Philip stepped out. His face went pale—until his eyes met mine.

I collapsed on the floor, crying and holding my head while dark red blood poured from my nose. On the desk behind him, his phone still showed Jane’s name on the screen.

“Victoria?” he gasped, taking a sharp step back.

There was zero regret on his face. Only pure, furious anger. He wasn’t upset that I was dying. He was mad that I was dying now, before I could sign the papers I was holding.

“You… you monster…” I choked out, my voice thick with blood. “I came home… to give you… everything… I loved you…”

“Phil! What’s going on?!” Jane screamed through the speaker.

He stood over my shaking body, his face twisting into an angry scowl. He didn’t call an ambulance. He didn’t kneel to help. He kicked a chair in frustration, ran a hand through his dark hair, and glared down at me like I had ruined his life.

“You had to ruin it today, didn’t you?” he hissed, watching the blood spill onto the carpet. “You couldn’t even stay alive long enough to sign! Now the trust locks everything up for your sister and I get almost nothing!”

The pain got worse—too much to bear. “Please… just call an ambulance…” I sobbed as dark shadows covered my sight.

Philip never moved.

My heart slammed hard against my ribs one last time… and then stopped.

“Goodbye, Victoria,” he growled in pure anger. “You useless idiot.”

Everything went black. The terrible pressure in my head disappeared into total darkness.

I died. I’m sure I died. But then…

Gasp!

Air ripped into my lungs hard.

I sat up fast, chest heaving, cold sweat soaking my skin. I wasn’t on the floor. I was in my soft bed inside our house.

I scrambled to the mirror on the vanity. The woman looking back had clear, glowing skin, firm curves, and thick dark hair. No sign of the poison.

I grabbed my phone. The screen said: OCTOBER 14, 2025.

One year ago. One year before the poison ruined my health.

A knock came at my bedroom door.

“Victoria, sweetheart?”

The door opened. Philip walked in wearing a crisp white shirt and that handsome, devoted smile. In his right hand, he held a glass of water. In his left hand, between his fingers, was a small white pill.

“You slept so late today, darling,” he said smoothly, stepping toward me with that fake loving look in his eyes. “Here, take your supplement before breakfast. You know how fragile your health is.”

He held out his hand, offering me the poison that was supposed to fog my mind so I’d sign away my life.

I looked at the white pill, then raised my eyes and locked them straight on his. Deep in my soul I felt so bitter, I could almost taste the betrayal.

But the old Victoria—the stupid one with the soft heart of gold—was dead. Someone much colder and sharper had taken her place.

I forced a warm, gentle smile.

He had no idea his prey had just walked out of the grave. And this time, he wouldn’t get a single penny.