Chapter 3 : Sooner or later, you’ll thank me.

An hour later, Colton and Hugo arrived at the hospital.

The air in the room was thick with antiseptic and grief. Outside, the city’s lights blurred against the rain-speckled window, their faint shimmer reflecting across Alexander’s pale, unreadable face. He sat motionless, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the glass—as though the skyline could offer him answers.

Colton pulled out a chair and sat beside him, his expression grave. “I looked into those people,” he said quietly. “They’re ghosts, Xander. No fingerprints, no records, no entry logs—smuggled in from abroad, all of them. They move like shadows, in and out of the country without leaving a trace.”

His tone was low, steady, but the weight of it filled the silence. These were the kind of enemies even the most powerful men feared—unseen, untraceable, unaccountable.

Alexander didn’t reply. His eyes remained fixed on the window, his jaw tight. The hospital’s sterile light fell across the sharp line of his cheekbone, making him look colder, more distant.

Colton studied him for a moment before asking, “Xander, did Mr. Cornelius Vanderbilt… say something before he fell unconscious?”

Alexander’s fingers curled at his side, tendons flexing beneath his skin. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, strained with something unspoken. “Grandfather told me to stay away from Serena.”

Colton frowned. “That’s strange. Wasn’t he the one who liked her most? He trusted her—defended her even when others didn’t.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping. “Unless… he learned something during his disappearance.”

Alexander finally turned his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

Colton continued, each word deliberate. “Think about it. What if Serena was involved with those people from the start? Maybe she used the Vanderbilt family to get close to confidential information. Last night, she met with your grandfather alone, gained his trust—and when she got what she needed, she planned to silence him. The snake bite could have been a distraction, meant for you. That snake was given to you by Serena, wasn’t it?”

The implication hung in the air like smoke.

Every clue pointed to her. Every line of logic led back to Serena.

And yet—Alexander’s silence said otherwise. His gaze hardened, but beneath the calm exterior, emotion flickered—conflict, disbelief, maybe even a sliver of pain.

Colton sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Frederick Vanderbilt has already taken leave. He should be here soon—he’s heard about everything. Between the family’s internal chaos and Mr. Cornelius’s condition…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “You should prepare for a funeral at any time.”

The words struck like ice water.

Alexander’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came. His grandfather—his only constant, his moral anchor—was slipping away.

If Cornelius died, the truth would die with him. Serena would be untouchable.

He drew in a slow breath, steadying himself, then reached for his phone. His thumb hovered for a moment before pressing the call button.

“Find Serena,” he ordered, his tone low, measured, but beneath it, there was something else—something sharp and volatile—like the edge of a blade trembling before it cuts.

---

Serena awoke in a cold, windowless room. The air was damp and faintly metallic, thick with the scent of concrete and confinement. The only light came from a narrow pane of glass in the ceiling—a square of dim blue sky so high above that it felt cruel, like a glimpse of freedom she could never reach.

She didn’t know where she was—city or countryside, night or day. Her body ached from lying on the hard floor, her head pounding with confusion. When she tried to recall what had happened, fragmented images flashed through her mind: the small snake, its scales glinting before it struck Alexander... his expression of shock and pain as the venom took hold...

A wave of dread rolled through her. The venom was deadly. Was Alexander still alive? And Matheo—what exactly was his plan?

“Open the door!” she shouted hoarsely, pounding on the steel panel until her palms stung. Her voice echoed hollowly, swallowed by silence.

Two hours passed—or maybe more. Time meant nothing here. Exhausted, she sank to the floor, resting her head against her knees. That was when she finally heard footsteps—a slow, deliberate rhythm approaching from the other side of the door.

The lock clicked.

The heavy door swung open, and he stepped in.

Marken’s alter ego.

He looked almost identical to the man she once knew, but his expression—his eyes—belonged to someone else entirely. Cold amusement curved his lips as he took in the sight of her sitting there, small and tense beneath the sterile light.

The only object in the room was a clock on the far wall. Its red second hand crawled toward the number twelve—nine o’clock at night.

Marken’s double crouched before her, one knee to the ground. His gloved fingers caught her chin, tilting her face upward with unsettling familiarity.

Serena recoiled instinctively, trying to slap his hand away. The touch burned. She stared at him, struggling to reconcile this cruel stranger with the man whose quiet steadiness she had once trusted.

Questions spiraled in her mind—about Matheo, about Cornelius. None of this made sense. The box containing the venomous snake had come from Cornelius himself... could he have known? Could he have been part of this?

Her temples throbbed as she tried to think. She could still see Alexander’s face when he was bitten—his eyes locking on hers, full of disbelief. That image seared through her like a brand.

Now, as Marken’s alter ego held her chin, Serena forced herself to meet his gaze. Her voice, though trembling, dripped with loathing.

“Let go of me.”

He smiled faintly, almost tenderly, brushing a strand of hair from her brow. “Serena,” he murmured her name like a secret. “You know, I dreamed about you. It’s strange how real it felt.”

Serena’s eyes hardened. “Don’t disgust me more than you already have.” Her voice was cold, sharp as a blade.

For a moment, something flickered behind his gaze—something she couldn’t name. Then it vanished.

Without another word, he released her, rose to his feet, and turned away. The door creaked as he stepped out, the metallic sound echoing through the empty room.

And once again, Serena was alone—beneath that distant square of blue sky, in a room that felt far too small for her fear, and far too large for her breaking heart.

---

As soon as the door shut with a dull click, Marken’s alter ego lingered outside, his expression unreadable. Inside his mind, Marken’s voice echoed—steady, restrained, yet laced with quiet warning.

“You’ll regret treating her like this sooner or later.”

A muscle in the alter ego’s jaw twitched. Marken had tried to stop what happened the previous night, had begged, pleaded even, but he’d been powerless—his consciousness trapped while the other half, the darker half, had full control.

He could only watch from the confines of his mind as everything spiraled out of his grasp.

Now, standing in the dim hallway, Marken’s alter ego clenched his fist and slammed it into the wall. The sharp crack reverberated through the silence, and blood began to bloom across his knuckles.

His lips curved into a dangerous smile. “Why would I regret it, Marken? I’m helping you.”

His voice dripped with mockery, low and velvety—like sin disguised as reason.

“Last time, I used her to get the chip. Threatening you with her worked beautifully. Now, as long as you help me complete this experiment, I’ll let her go. She can crawl back to Alexander if she wants. How about that?”

Marken didn’t respond, but his silence was weighted, trembling on the edge of fury and despair.

The alter ego—Matheo—descended the stairs, his movements smooth and deliberate. The golden light spilling through the window caught the sharp lines of his face, giving him a wicked sort of beauty. He picked up a half-empty glass of liquor from the table and took a slow sip, the burn of it curling in his throat.

“When you finally come to your senses,” Matheo said, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, “and decide to help me finish the experiment, I’ll let her go. But you know me—I don’t have a bottom line, and I’ll do anything to get what I want.”

He laughed quietly, the sound dark and low.

“Didn’t my last trick make her hurt? She still thinks she slept with me. And now, she and Alexander—” He let out a soft chuckle, swirling the drink again. “—there’s already a rift between them. This time, I’ve made her the perfect scapegoat. Marken, I’ve got plenty more tricks if you keep testing me.”

He leaned back against the table, long fingers gliding along the rim of the glass. His eyes glimmered beneath the low light, molten with cruelty and seduction in equal measure.

Inside his mind, Marken’s voice returned, strained and hollow. “Matheo, I’ve told you—I can’t experiment on myself. The only person capable of completing it alone is under government surveillance. You just refuse to believe me.”

Matheo’s grin vanished. “You’ve been working with those scientists since you were a teenager,” he snapped. “Don’t tell me you can’t do it. This body—” he placed a hand over his chest, his tone rising with obsession, “—this body belongs to me. You need to disappear, Marken.”

For a long moment, silence settled between them. Marken didn’t answer—because arguing with Matheo was like reasoning with fire.

Matheo finished the last of the liquor, his throat moving with the swallow, and tossed the empty glass carelessly onto the table. The crystal clinked against the wood, rolling to a stop.

With a low sigh, he sprawled across the couch, one arm draped lazily over his eyes. “You’ll see,” he murmured, half to himself. “Sooner or later, you’ll thank me.”

As his breathing slowed and the alcohol began to dull his thoughts, the house sank into uneasy quiet—haunted only by the faint echo of two minds trapped in one body, waging an endless war in the dark.