Amy Sinclair studied the calendar, her finger tracing over the date before marking it in her planner.

Twenty-five excruciating days remained in the mandatory divorce waiting period.

Each one stretched longer than the last, an unbearable countdown.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She glanced at the screen—Alexander Blackwood.

Swiping to answer, she braced herself.

His voice was sharp, laced with irritation. "Amy, you promised Victoria would receive her full course of medication. She went to collect it today—why wasn’t it given to her?"

Whether Victoria wanted to take the medicine was irrelevant.

But Amy withholding it? That was a different matter entirely.

Of course, Victoria would run straight to Alexander to complain.

It was the perfect opportunity to paint Amy as the villain, the one who wished her harm.

Amy kept her tone cool. "I’ve already signed the settlement and provided the medicine. Yet, Mr. Blackwood, aside from filing for divorce, you’ve given me nothing in return."

Alexander caught her meaning instantly. His voice turned glacial.

"Are you trying to negotiate with me again?"

A faint smirk touched her lips. "I keep my promises, but I don’t work for free while someone else reaps the rewards. Wire me a million as a deposit, and I’ll hand over the rest of Victoria’s medication."

His reply was icy. "Amy, ever heard the phrase greed comes before a fall?"

She didn’t hesitate. "Even when you reserve an item at a store, you leave a deposit. These are life-saving medicines, made from rare and costly ingredients. If you suddenly back out, I’m left with nothing. You can buy Victoria a mansion without blinking, but when I ask for a million as insurance, suddenly I’m the greedy one? Hypocrisy suits you, Alexander."

Silence stretched between them before he finally spoke. "Give Victoria the medicine now, and I’ll transfer the money."

Amy’s gaze flicked to Victoria, sulking nearby as she ground herbs with deliberate slowness. "Money first. Then she gets her medicine. That’s the deal, Mr. Blackwood."

Lately, Victoria’s antics had already delayed everything. Instead of speeding up the process, she dragged her feet—barely managing to sort a single bag of herbs in an entire day. Theodore Whitmore had no choice but to assign her to grinding instead.

But she was even worse at that, ruining batch after batch, wasting precious ingredients.

Theodore had seen through her act immediately. She was deliberately doing a poor job, hoping he’d give up and let her off the hook.

But he wasn’t playing her game.

He set a strict daily quota—finish today’s work, or make it up tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. He had all the time in the world.

Grinding herbs was grueling work, and Victoria’s hands were now covered in blisters.

She glanced at Theodore, deep in consultation with a patient, and a flicker of malice darkened her expression.

Silently, she reached for a small porcelain vial.

Inside was a toxin Theodore had recently extracted from a venomous snake.

If anything went wrong with the medicine he prescribed, his reputation would be destroyed—ruined, disgraced, finished.

Today was her last day here.

And she intended to leave him with a parting gift.