That letter.
The handwritten evidence that could destroy everything.
If Ethan ever saw it and recognized her script, everything would shatter.
A cold dread seized Sophia, icing her veins from her feet to the top of her head.
Her eyes tracked the autonomous vehicle disappearing down the street. Instantly, she memorized its license plate.
She ducked into a secluded alcove, pulled out her phone, and made the call. It was answered on the first ring. A familiar, languid male voice greeted her. “Sophia. To what do I owe the pleasure? Another little job? You know I always deliver.”
Her grip on the phone tightened, her voice turning razor-sharp. “This is serious. I need a favor.”
“Oh? Must be important for you to call me first,” he taunted.
“Can you remotely hijack a self-driving car and force a collision?” she demanded, skipping the pleasantries.
A short silence was followed by a low, amused laugh. “Of course. You know my capabilities. But… my expertise has a high price.”
She took a sharp breath. “Two hundred thousand.”
“For that, I can ensure significant injury, but no guarantees on a fatality,” he countered smoothly.
She knew he was manipulating her.
Her teeth gritted. “What is it you really want?”
“Simple. One night. With you.”
Sophia had expected this.
After a beat, her voice went flat and cold. “Fine. But not tonight. I have prior commitments.”
“Deal.” He agreed instantly. “Don’t even think about reneging. I know enough about you to make your life very difficult.”
She gave a terse “understood” and forwarded Isabella’s license plate number.
She could hear the faint clicking of keys over the line.
A moment later, he spoke. “In approximately ten minutes, that vehicle will T-bone another autonomous car at a major intersection. Fatalities are highly probable.”
A slow, vicious smile curved Sophia’s lips. “Perfect.” She ended the call and immediately swallowed a small, concealed pill.
The pill was designed to induce acute cardiac stress—mimicking a severe heart attack that would appear completely genuine on any medical equipment.
She had kept it for a moment like this, a safeguard for when Ethan might grow suspicious of her supposed condition.
Now, the performance needed to become reality. It was the only way to ensure Ethan stayed with her, instead of rushing to Isabella’s side.
The drug acted fast. A crushing pressure built in her chest. Each breath became a struggle.
Leaning heavily against the wall for support, she stumbled toward the hospital entrance.
The bustling lobby swirled around her, the faces a blur.
One final, gasping breath—and then her legs gave out. She collapsed onto the cold, hard floor.
“Help! Someone’s down!”
“Get a doctor!”
“She’s not breathing!”
“Her pulse is thready!”
“BP is crashing!”
“Start compressions! Now!”
Inside the hyperbaric chamber, alarms blared. Medical staff swarmed, fighting to stabilize Sophia’s crashing vitals.