Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Refused to DieThe first twelve hours passed like a nightmare.

I don't remember everything.

Pain came in waves.

Sometimes I was conscious.

Sometimes I wasn't.

At one point, I woke on the bedroom floor with my cheek pressed against the marble.

My lips were dry.

My throat burned.

I crawled toward the bathroom.

The faucet produced nothing.

Not even a drop.

I returned to the bed.

I knew I needed help.

But my phone was gone.

The penthouse intercom was dead.

The power was off.

I couldn't even open the elevator doors manually.

I lay there thinking about Thaddius.

How long had he been planning this?

Then something occurred to me.

He had never asked about my treatment.

Not once.

He had never come to a single doctor's appointment.

He always complained about the cost.

At the time, I had mistaken it for frustration.

Now I understood.

He had been waiting.

Waiting for me to become weak enough to eliminate.

I closed my eyes.

Then I remembered something.

A sentence my father had told me when I was twenty-three.

“Never put everything you own in one place.”

My father had died twelve years earlier.

Before his death, he taught me something else.

“Never trust a person simply because you love them.”

I had ignored both lessons.

Until now.

I forced myself out of bed.

There was one emergency device in the penthouse.

A security system connected to an independent battery.

I had installed it after a break-in several years earlier.

Thaddius didn't know about it.

Or so I hoped.

The panel was in the hallway.

I crawled toward it.

Every movement felt like dragging a mountain.

When I finally reached it, my hands shook so violently that I struggled to open the cover.

The backup system had one emergency button.

I pressed it.

Nothing happened.

My heart sank.

Then a tiny red light appeared.

A speaker crackled.

“Emergency system activated.”

I nearly cried.

I pressed the microphone.

“My name is Seraphina Vale.”

My voice trembled.

“I am locked inside my penthouse.”

“I have been deprived of medication, electricity, and water.”

“Please send emergency assistance.”

The system responded.

“Emergency transmission received.”

Then silence.

I waited.

Ten minutes.

Twenty.

Nothing.

I thought perhaps it had failed.

Then I heard a faint mechanical sound.

Not from the elevator.

From the security panel.

A hidden camera had activated.

Someone was accessing the system remotely.

A man's voice came through the speaker.

“Mrs. Vale?”

I froze.

“Yes.”

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“This is Daniel Cross.”

I knew that name.

Daniel had been my father's head of security.

He had disappeared from my life after my father's death.

I thought he had retired.

“Daniel?”

“Yes.”

His voice became urgent.

“Stay awake.”

“I don't know how much longer I can…”

“You need to listen to me.”

He paused.

“Thaddius told everyone you're receiving treatment at a private facility.”

My stomach dropped.

“What?”

“He left New York this morning.”

“Where?”

“Paris first.”

I closed my eyes.

“He wants everyone to believe I'm dead already.”

Daniel continued.

“I've contacted emergency services.”

“Why aren't they here?”

“Your husband registered the penthouse under a private security lockdown.”

My blood ran cold.

“He had authority?”

“He used your medical power-of-attorney.”

I felt something inside me break.

I had signed that document years ago.

Because I trusted him.

Daniel spoke again.

“Mrs. Vale, there's more.”

“What?”

“Your husband has begun transferring company assets.”

I stared at the darkness.

“How much?”

“Several million dollars.”

My breathing became shallow.

“Where?”

“Accounts controlled by a holding company.”

“Whose holding company?”

Daniel hesitated.

“Yours.”

I didn't understand.

Then it hit me.

He wasn't stealing from my company.

He was trying to make it appear as though I had authorized the transfers.

Forgery.

Fraud.

Murder.

This wasn't a divorce.

It was an attempted takeover.

I whispered:

“Daniel.”

“Yes?”

“If I survive…”

My voice cracked.

“Don't let him know.”

There was silence.

Then Daniel said:

“He won't.”

A few hours later, the penthouse doors were finally breached.

Emergency responders entered.

Bright lights flooded the room.

Someone shouted my name.

Hands lifted me onto a stretcher.

I remember looking toward the trash can.

The blue vial was still there.

An EMT retrieved it.

“This may be evidence.”

I closed my eyes.

For the first time in days, I felt something other than fear.

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I felt anger.

And anger gave me strength.