Chapter 13 - THE POISON INSIDE HER MEDICATION
My mother had been poisoned slowly for months.
Not enough to kill her quickly.
Enough to keep her weak.
Dependent on appointments.
Dependent on medication.
Dependent on systems Victor could watch.
The source was one prescription.
Supposedly for her condition.
The pharmacy records traced it to a private Vale health provider.
Authorized physician:
Dr. Graham Sloane.
Victor’s doctor.
Julian’s face turned cold.
“He poisoned her to control Lena.”
“Yes,” the doctor said.
My stomach turned.
Mom was stabilized.
The medication stopped.
Within days, some symptoms improved.
Not all.
But enough to give us hope.
Dr. Sloane was arrested.
He cooperated immediately.
Victor had ordered everything.
Dad’s captivity.
Mom’s poisoning.
My staffing placement.
The fake trust amendments.
Even Camille’s disappearance attempt.
Sebastian had helped with financial manipulation but claimed he never knew about the poisoning.
Evidence supported that.
He still faced consequences.
But not murder charges.
I sat beside Mom’s hospital bed.
She looked at Julian.
“You can stop hovering.”
“I’m not hovering.”
“You’ve been standing there twenty minutes.”
“I’m waiting.”
“For what?”
“Permission.”
She laughed.
“I like him.”
“Mom.”
“What?”
Julian smiled.
Traitor.
Recovery took months.
During that time, my one-year marriage continued.
Except it stopped feeling contractual.
The six-hundred-thousand-dollar agreement sat unsigned for payment.
We eventually voided it formally.
I kept the original copy.
Julian asked why.
“For memories.”
“Of extortion?”
“Of poor decision-making.”
“You said yes.”
“I was hungry.”
He laughed.
Then one evening, he gave me something.
Not jewelry.
Not money.
A college brochure.
I frowned.
“What is this?”
“You mentioned you left nursing school when your mother got sick.”
My throat tightened.
“That was years ago.”
“You still want to finish?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Then finish.”
I looked at him.
“You’re offering tuition.”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I’m offering scheduling flexibility.”
I smiled.
“What?”
“The building-services company is becoming independent from Vale Holdings.”
“And?”
“You’re being promoted to operations coordinator.”
I stared.
“Based on what?”
“Your supervisor recommended you.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
I checked.
He was telling the truth.
That mattered more than if he had handed me a million dollars.
I accepted.
Went back to school part time.
Worked days.
Spent evenings with Mom.
And increasingly, nights with Julian.
Not because a contract said so.
Because I chose to.
Then, eight months into the marriage, Sebastian asked to see me.
Prison visitation.
I went with Julian.
Sebastian looked thinner.
Less polished.
“Lena.”
“What?”
“I owe you something.”
“An apology?”
“That too.”
He slid a document through the opening.
“I found this before my arrest.”
Original trust addendum.
Julian frowned.
“What is it?”
Sebastian looked at him.
“Grandfather’s final clause.”
I read it.
If Julian Vale remains married to the designated key holder for one full year—
without financial compensation for continued marriage—
all founder shares transfer personally.
Not to Julian.
Not to Lena.
To both.
Fifty-fifty.
I stared.
Julian stared.
Sebastian smiled bitterly.
“Congratulations.”
I looked at the date.
One year.
Only four months away.
If we stayed married, we would inherit billions together.
The contract marriage had suddenly become worth more than either of us imagined.
May you like
And for the first time, I did not know whether staying would prove love—
or destroy it.
