Chapter 4 - The Husband’s Facade Cracks
The hospital smell of antiseptic and industrial floor wax hung thick in the air of the seventh floor. When I stepped off the elevator, I found Thomas pacing the private corridor outside Chloe’s room. His tie was loosened, his designer tuxedo rumpled, and an empty paper coffee cup was crushed flat in his trembling hand.
When he saw me walking toward him, heels clicking against the linoleum with rhythmic precision, his panic metastasized into rage.
"What the hell are you doing here, Victoria?" he hissed, rushing over and trying to grab my arm.
I dodged his touch with effortless disdain. "Visiting our beloved consultant. How is dear Chloe doing, darling? Has she regained the ability to articulate attempted murder yet?"
"Keep your voice down!" he rasped, looking frantically around the empty corridor. "You assaulted her! You nearly killed an innocent woman because of your paranoid, jealous delusions! Do you realize what the press will do to our stock tomorrow if this leaks?"
I laughed softly, a low sound that caused him to recoil. "Still worried about the stock price, Thomas? Even while your mistress lies hooked to a ventilator with succinylcholine burning out her peripheral nervous system?"
The word hit him like a physical blow. His jaw slacked, the color draining from his face all over again. "W-what... what are you talking about?"
"Succinylcholine. Batch numbered, custom synthesized. Did you really think you could buy off a rogue chemist in Detroit using an offshore shell company registered in the Caymans without my forensic auditors finding it?"
It was a bluff—I hadn't traced the purchase to Detroit yet—but Thomas was too terrified to notice the trap. His eyes darted toward the hospital room door, sweat beading along his hairline.
"Victoria, listen to me," he whispered, dropping the aggressive facade and stepping closer, his hands coming together in a sickening display of supplication. "You don't understand the pressure I've been under. Chloe... she manipulated me. She blackmailed me! She threatened to ruin the company if I didn't help her—"
"Save the performance for the jury, Thomas," I said, leaning in until my lips were inches from his ear. "I built you. When my father handed you the title of CEO, you were a mid-level analyst with decent hair and a counterfeit smile. You wanted my empire, my money, and my life. But tonight, you gave me the one thing I was missing: criminal grounds to erase you entirely."
"You have no proof," he stammered, though his voice cracked with raw terror. "The police won't believe you. Chloe won't say a word. I'll make sure of it."
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"Go inside and check on her, then," I smiled, gesturing toward the room with a tilt of my head. "See how loyal she feels after she almost died drinking the glass she poured for me."
***
