Chapter 3 - Shadows of the Past
The moment the dark liquid hit her stomach, an intense wave of heat spread through Emma’s veins, followed instantly by a paralyzing numbness that locked her vocal cords. She tried to gasp, but no sound came out. Her vision blurred, spinning violently as the stone patio seemed to tilt beneath her. The last thing she registered before darkness claimed her was Marcus’s frantic, distorted voice screaming her name, followed by Victoria’s cold, triumphant laughter cutting through the night.
When Emma finally clawed her way back to consciousness, the harsh fluorescent glare of an unfamiliar, sterile room replaced the starry courtyard sky.
She was strapped securely to a leather-padded medical gurney inside what appeared to be a private, subterranean infirmary beneath the Vance estate. The walls were lined with reinforced concrete and high-tech monitoring equipment that beeped with a steady, rhythmic cadence. Standing over her with a tablet in hand was a middle-aged man in a crisp white lab coat—Dr. Hayes, the Vance family’s personal physician and quiet accomplice to their darkest secrets.
"Ah, she's waking up," Dr. Hayes muttered, his voice devoid of bedside manner as he tapped a stylus against his screen. "Metabolic rates are stabilizing. The paralytic is wearing off, but the sedative will keep her compliant for another hour."
Emma tried to move her arms, but the heavy leather straps held her fast. Her throat burned as if she had swallowed hot coals, but she managed to rasp out a single, fractured word: "Marcus..."
"Master Marcus is currently occupied in the East Wing," Dr. Hayes replied matter-of-factly, not even looking up from his tablet. "Victoria has taken every precaution to ensure he believes you were taken away by emergency medical services for your pool injuries. Naturally, the story was... tailored to protect the family's image."
"Where... where am I?" Emma whispered, her heart pounding against her ribs as she scanned the room for a way out.
"You are exactly where you need to be," a familiar, chilling voice echoed from the doorway.
Victoria stepped into the harsh light, her expression as unyielding as granite. She walked slowly toward the gurney, stopping just inches from Emma’s head. She reached out and brushed a lock of damp hair away from Emma's forehead with a gesture that was sickeningly maternal.
"You cooperated nicely, Emma," Victoria said softly. "That saves us both a great deal of unpleasantness. You see, I don't want you dead. Not yet. Dead people are useless, and they tend to attract unwanted police investigations. But you and your father, Arthur Vance, need to understand something very important: this estate, this empire, and my son belong to me. You thought you could slip into Marcus's life, whisper sweet nothings, and uncover our corporate secrets? You underestimated me."
Emma’s eyes flashed with defiance despite her weakness. She parted her lips, her voice gaining strength. "Marcus... Marcus loves me. He will never stop looking for me. When he finds out what you've done—when he finds out you drugged me and locked me down here—he will tear this family apart."
May you like
Victoria chuckled, a low, humorless sound that sent a shiver down Emma's spine. "Let him try. But before he finds you, he’s going to receive a very special package. A letter, penned in your handwriting, explaining that you never loved him, that you were only using him to gather intel for your father’s hostile takeover. And attached to that letter will be the real file on the night of Arthur's supposed 'accident'."
Victoria leaned down until her lips brushed Emma’s ear. "Let’s see how fiercely Marcus loves you then, when he believes you were playing him from the very beginning."
