I stood frozen in my bedroom for some time while Victor's phone burned in my hands.
Come home love. Lily's asleep. We need to talk about Alyssa.
My blood turned to ice. My legs nearly gave out.
If Elena was poisoning him—if she'd been slipping thallium into his food, his drinks, for months—then whatever waited at that house wasn't a conversation, It was the final dose.
And Victor was already on his way.
I snapped out of my thoughts quickly and just moved. I put my clothes on—his shirt, my skirt, didn't matter at this point, I barely tied my shoes, I just quickly snatched my keys and ran.
The hallway blurred. The elevator took forever. My heart slammed against my ribs like it wanted to stump its way out of my chest .
The drive was a nightmare. Red lights bled into each other. I gripped the wheel so hard my knuckles went white. Every second, I pictured it: Victor stumbling through the front door, Elena smiling that perfect, poisonous smile, handing him a cup of something warm to "settle his stomach."
I swerved through traffic, honking so loudly as tears stung my eyes.
He drank from her hands every day. He trusted and loved her.
And I am letting him walk straight back into the trap?
My phone buzzed on the passenger seat—Cynthia? "You're done with your doctor appointments right"? Coming for my car tomorrow, and on the other handVictor's phone. Another text from Elena.
Drive safe, darling. I'll warm the chamomile for you.
Chamomile.
The same tea she always made him when he felt sick. The same tea that started appearing right when his headaches began.
I almost rear-ended the car in front of me.
Twenty minutes. Fifteen. Ten.
I knew that house too well. The long driveway lined with manicured hedges. The porch light Elena always left on—like a good wife. Like a spider leaving the porch light on for flies.
I pulled up just as Victor's car rolled to a stop in front of the garage. He climbed out slowly, one hand on the roof for balance. Still drunk. Still pale.
I killed the engine and ran.
"Victor!" My voice cracked across the quiet night.
He turned, squinting. "Lys? What the hell—"
The front door opened before he finished.
Elena stood there in silk pajamas, with her hair perfectly tied even at this hour, concern etched softly on her face. The perfect wife. The perfect liar.
"Victor? Oh my God, you look awful." She hurried down the steps, with her arms out. "Come inside love. I was so worried."
He let her take his arm. Let her guide him.
I sprinted up the driveway. "Don't drink anything she gives you!"
They both stopped. Victor frowned, confused. Elena's head tilted—like a predator sizing up prey.
"Alyssa," Elena said, voice honey-sweet. "What are you doing here?"
Victor looked between us, swaying slightly. "Lys, go home. We'll talk tomorrow."
"No." I grabbed his other arm. "Victor, listen to me. She's poisoning you. The headaches, the nausea—thallium. It matches everything. The doctor she picked said you're fine because she told him to."
Everywhere went silent.
Then Victor laughed—weak, tired, but real. "You're paranoid, Lys. Come on."
Elena's grip tightened on his arm. Just a fraction. But I saw it.
"Let's get you inside," she murmured to him. "You need to sit down."
She led him through the door. I followed before they could shut it on me.
The house smelled like lavender and lies. Everything is spotless. Everything is perfect.
Victor collapsed onto the couch in the living room with his head in his hands. Elena knelt beside him, brushing his hair back with gentle fingers.
"I made your tea," she said softly. "It'll help."
She stood and walked to the kitchen island. A steaming mug already waited there. Like she'd known exactly when he'd arrive.
My stomach dropped.
"Don't," I said, my voice shaking. "Victor, please don't drink it."
He looked up at me with bleary eyes. "Alyssa, stop. You're scaring me."
Elena turned with a mug in her hand. Steam curled up like smoke from a funeral pyre.
"Here, love." She held it out to him.
Victor reached for it automatically, he trusts Elena, he always ways trusts Elena
I lunged.
I slapped the mug from her hand. It shattered against the marble floor ceramic shards, brown liquid splashing everywhere.
Victor flinched. "Jesus, Lys!"
Elena didn't move. Didn't flinch. She just stared at the mess, then at me.
Her eyes were cold, so cold.
"Alyssa," she said quietly. "You're hysterical."
I stepped between her and Victor, chest heaving. "Explain the texts, Elena. Explain why his symptoms match thallium poisoning perfectly. Explain why your 'family doctor' cleared him when he's falling apart."
Victor rubbed his temples. "There's nothing to explain. I've been stressed and drinking way too much. That's all."
Elena smiled—gentily, , sadly, perfectly.
"Sweetie, you've been under so much pressure. And with… everything going on…" Her gaze flicked to me. "It's natural to imagine things."
Imagine things.
The words hit like a slap.
I pulled Victor's phone from my pocket and shoved it toward her. "Then explain this timing. Every time he got worse, you were the one making his meals. His tea."
She didn't even look at the screen. "Alyssa, you need help."
Victor stood—slowly, unsteadily. "Lys… I think you should go."
No.
No no no.
He was choosing her. Again.
I grabbed his sleeve. "Victor, please. Just get real tests. Somewhere else. I'm begging you."
He looked down at me, and for the first time, there was something new in his eyes.
Pity.
Like I was the one breaking.
"You're not well," he said softly. "This… obsession. It's gone too far."
Obsession.
The room tilted.
Elena stepped closer with a calm voice. "I'll call Dr. Harlan in the morning. We'll get you both the help you need."
Both.
Like I was the sick one.
Victor's face suddenly drained of color completely. His knees buckled. He clutched his stomach, a guttural sound ripping from his throat.
Then he convulsed.
His body hit the floor hard, limbs jerking, foam bubbling at the corners of his mouth. His eyes rolled back, only whites showing.
"Victor!" I screamed, dropping beside him.
Elena knelt too, but her hands hovered—never quite touching him. Her face was a mask of perfect grief, tears already sliding down her cheeks.
I pressed my fingers to his neck, his pulse was frantic, then stuttering. Then… nothing.
No.
I started compressions, sobbing. "Come back. Please come back."
His chest didn't rise on its own.
In the silence between my frantic pushes, he made one last sound—a wet, rattling gasp.
His hand twitched.
I grabbed it, squeezing. "I'm here. I love you."
But his fingers didn't curl around mine.
Instead, his arm lifted—weak, trembling—and reached past me.
Toward Elena.
"E…lena…" he rasped, the word barely air.
His eyes fixed on her. Only her.
Then the light in them went out.
His hand fell limp.
I felt the exact moment his heart stopped beneath my palms.
Elena let out a perfect, broken wail. "Victor! No!"
She shoved me aside, cradling his head in her lap, rocking him like a child. Tears fell onto his lifeless face.
Sirens were closer now—someone must have called earlier.
Elena looked up at me, eyes shining with tears and something darker. Victory.
"He chose me," she whispered, lips brushing his ear even though he couldn't hear. "Even at the end. He always chose me."
Then, louder, for the arriving police she somehow knew were coming: "She did this! She poisoned him—I saw her!"
The front door burst open. Red and blue lights flooded the room.
The police!
They grabbed me forcefully. They put cold cuffs around my wrists.
I didn't fight it.
I just stared at Victor's body in Elena's arms—at the man I loved, dead because I was too late.
And my sister, smiling through her tears, "Victor, Victor, Victorrrr"….
"This is far from over Elena"
Alysa never loses! Never!