HE BLINDFOLDED ME AND SAID: "ONE WRONG NOTE HAS A PRICE." I THOUGHT HE WANTED MY BODY... UNTIL THE TRUTH DESTROYED EVERYTHING I KNEW!

The relief of having five hundred thousand dollars in hand evaporated the moment Dr. Aris walked into the private waiting room of St. Jude’s Medical Center. His face was pale, his eyes fixed on a glowing digital tablet.

"Anaëlle," the doctor said, closing the frosted glass door behind him. "We ran the comprehensive blood panel to prepare Clara for the experimental trial. What we found... it doesn't make any sense."

Anaëlle stood up so fast her chair screeched against the linoleum. Julian, standing motionless in the corner, immediately stepped forward, his body naturally shifting into a protective stance beside her.

"What is it?" Anaëlle asked, her voice tight. "Is she getting worse?"

"Clara doesn't have a genetic illness," Dr. Aris revealed quietly. "Her bloodwork contains trace amounts of Venum-7—a rare, synthetic neurotoxin. Someone has been micro-dosing your sister with poison for at least three years."

The room plunged into an icy stillness. Anaëlle felt as though the floor had opened beneath her feet. "Poison? No... that’s impossible! I cook all her meals, I take her to school, I—"

"It wasn't meant to kill her immediately," Julian interrupted, his voice turning lethally calm. He looked at the doctor. "It’s a leash. Micro-dosing creates symptoms that mimic a degenerative motor disease, keeping the target weak and dependent on specific treatments."

Anaëlle turned to Julian, her eyes wide with terror. "Who would do that to a seven-year-old child?"

"Someone who wanted to make sure you stayed desperate," Julian answered, his grey eyes darkening. "Someone who needed you broke, vulnerable, and willing to take a high-paying gig at the Blackwood Estate the moment an opportunity presented itself."

Before Anaëlle could process the horrifying truth, Julian’s phone vibrated violently against his chest. He pulled it out, answered, and listened for five seconds.

His jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched beneath his scar. "Understood. Lock down the perimeter."

"What happened?" Anaëlle whispered.

Julian looked at her, his expression grim. "Hector Vance died ten minutes ago in his federal holding cell. Poisoned through his IV. But before he stopped breathing, he left a message scrawled in blood on the wall."