Chapter 3

The next morning, as I descended the stairs, I feigned a sudden slip and tumbled down the lower steps.

Julian and Chloe screamed in alarm and rushed over.

The fall wasn't severe, but my forehead brushed against the banister, drawing a bead of blood.

I clutched my head, my face ghostly pale, my eyes unfocused as if suffering from severe shock.

"I feel so dizzy... everything is blurry..."

Panic flashed in Julian's eyes. He scooped me up into his arms.

"Quick, to the ER!"

On the way to the hospital, I slumped weakly against Julian's shoulder.

"Julian, I'm scared... What if something happens to me? What about my dad's company? I don't know how to run it..."

I felt Julian's body stiffen for a fraction of a second before he held me even tighter with synthetic warmth.

"Don't let your mind wander. I'm here for the business. Once you recover, I'll teach you everything step by step."

I looked at him with tear-filled eyes, playing the touched, devoted damsel.

"Julian, you're the best. I have nobody left but you."

At the hospital, the doctor ran a battery of scans.

Taking advantage of the moment Julian stepped away to pay the co-pay, I whispered to the attending physician:

"Doctor, along with the head trauma checks, I need a comprehensive blood panel and genetic screening done. Rush the labs, please."

The doctor looked a bit surprised, but nodded understandingly.

Exiting the exam room with a diagnosis of mild concussion, I caught Julian and Chloe whispering near the hall window.

They snapped their mouths shut the moment they spotted me.

Chloe hurried over, wearing an anxious mask. "Vivienne, what did the doctor say?"

"Nothing major. Just a mild concussion. A few days of rest should do it," I said nonchalantly.

On the drive back, I kept my eyes closed, saying nothing.

Julian assumed I was asleep and spoke to Chloe in the front seat in barely audible whispers.

"Her falling today is actually a golden opportunity," Julian schemed under his breath.

"We can claim she's disoriented from the head injury. Even if she senses something off when signing the papers, she won't have the mental clarity to object."

Chloe chuckled softly. "You're a genius, Julian. Look at how dependent she is on you right now. She swallows whatever you say."

Beside my leg, my fingernails dug deep into my palms.

The higher you climb on your own arrogance, the harder you will hit the pavement when you fall.

Back home, citing a terrible headache, I locked myself in my room all day.

Late into the dead of night, when the entire house was plunged into silence, I slipped out on bare feet.

I checked Chloe's door until I heard her faint, rhythmic snoring, then padded down to the dark living room.

Under the faint glow of the nightlight, I held my breath and fished out the metallic device from the sofa cushions.

Plugging in my earbuds, the past two days of clandestine conversations blasted through with sickening clarity.

"Why is Vance taking so long? Isn't the trust transfer ready yet?"

"Almost. He said he had to pack it with dense legal jargon to keep Vivienne from sniffing out a trap."

"She's practically brain-dead right now. What could she possibly suspect?"

"Tomorrow, go drop by her headquarters. Act like the incoming boss lady and get a feel for the territory."

"Great idea. I'll head over tomorrow and show those old fossils on the board who's really running the show from now on."

I quickly uploaded the audio files to an encrypted cloud drive and wiped the local storage clean.

The following morning, Chloe announced she was heading out to shop.

The second she drove away, I dialed Uncle Robert. He was my father's most loyal executive and right-hand man—utterly trustworthy.

I had already briefed him beforehand. He promptly dispatched a trusted technician disguised as a central AC maintenance worker.

With Julian and Chloe out of the house, the technician swiftly installed a micro-projector behind the giant oil painting on the living room wall, synced directly to my smartphone.

Julian had never paid attention to that piece of art. Soon, that very wall would become the canvas displaying their doom.

Once that was settled, I checked the clock. It was time to retrieve my rushed blood lab results.

Changing into a fresh coat, I hailed a cab straight to Metro General.

Clutching the expedited blood panel, I bypassed the regular desks and went straight to the Head of Hematology.

The department head studied my lab sheets, then peered over his glasses at me.

"Miss Shen, your blood work is immaculate. There isn't a single marker indicating any hereditary blood condition."

"Who told you that you were sick?"

I pulled out the duplicate copy of the forged Westside Health Center report I had kept hidden, sliding it across the desk.

"This report did."

The doctor took one look at it, and his brow furrowed with deep disgust.

"This is an absolute farce! The formatting and clinical terminology are completely unprofessional. Several figures are biologically contradictory."

"For instance, right here: platelet counts and coagulation factor activity could never realistically present these contradictory values simultaneously."

"It's a fake. And a shockingly amateurish one at that."

I nodded, a wave of cold certainty settling over me.

"Doctor, I need an official, legally binding forensic statement from you confirming this report is a forgery. And I'd like a complete, official physical examination on file."

"Consider it done. That is our medical and legal duty," the doctor stated resolutely.

When I got back home, Chloe had not yet returned.

I stepped into her guest room. Her suitcase lay wide open on the luggage rack, clothes haphazardly strewn about.

I pretended to tidy up, subtly sifting through her belongings. Tucked into an unassuming hidden flap, my fingers brushed against a small pill bottle.

The bottle bore no label whatsoever.

I unscrewed the cap. A faint, almost imperceptible chemical scent drifted into my nose.

I recognized that smell instantly.

In my previous life, before they tossed me into the basement, the soup Julian brought me every single day carried that exact odor.

After drinking it, a person would become lethargic, weak, and cognitively sluggish.

It was a slow-acting neuro-inhibitor. Long-term ingestion caused irreversible brain damage.

My stomach sank into an abyss of fury.

They didn't just want my wealth; they wanted to strip away my sanity, reducing me to a drooling vegetable.

Using a tissue, I carefully tipped out two capsules, wrapped them up, and slid them into my inner coat pocket.

Then, I placed the bottle back precisely where I found it.

Late in the afternoon, Chloe sauntered back through the door, beaming with arrogance.

The moment she stepped inside, she couldn't wait to boast.

"Vivienne, I stopped by your corporate office today! The board members were so incredibly polite to me."

"They all said that with Julian managing operations, you can just sit back and focus on getting better."

The smug triumph was smeared all over her face.

I stared at her, laughing coldly on the inside.

Polite? Those seasoned corporate sharks being polite to an uneducated, clueless twenty-year-old?

They were merely playing along to save face for Julian.

I put on a gullible, grateful expression.

"Really? That's wonderful. With you and Julian by my side, I have nothing to worry about."

My docile demeanor completely stripped away her remaining caution.

She even offered to massage my temples, claiming it would soothe my headache.

I leaned back on the couch, shutting my eyes, letting her manicured nails rub against my skin.

As she kneaded, she brought it up with calculated casualness:

"Vivienne, Julian mentioned that wrapping up your father's estate involves so much red tape. Mountains of papers requiring your signature."

"You're in such frail health right now. Running back and forth between lawyers will exhaust you."

"Why don't you sign a comprehensive power-of-attorney form? Let Julian handle the legal burden so you can just heal in peace, don't you think?"

The knife was finally drawn.

I snapped my eyes open. Clear, sharp, and blazing—there wasn't a trace of weakness in them.

Chloe's hands froze against my temples. In one fluid motion, I grabbed her wrist, squeezing so hard her face twisted in pain.

"Vivienne! What are you—"

"Don't call me Vivienne," I growled, my voice dropping to a dangerous register.

"That unlabelled pill bottle in your suitcase... did you buy it yourself, or did Julian hand it to you?"