Chapter 2 - The True Architect of Agony
The revelation hit me with the force of a freight train. Victoria Stanford. The ruthless, aristocratic matriarch of the Stanford empire who had never hidden her utter disdain for me. I was a self-made woman who had worked my way up in the finance sector; I lacked the elite pedigree, the old money, and the ruthless cruelty she believed was required to stand beside her son. Victoria had always wanted Blake to marry Chloe, an heiress to a massive logistics fortune that would have doubled the Stanford family’s net worth in a corporate merger.
For three years, I thought Victoria merely disliked me. I never realized she was actively plotting my brutal execution. Chloe hadn't just manipulated Blake; she had been hired by Victoria to push him to the breaking point.
Two weeks passed. Under Owen’s fierce, unwavering protection, my physical wounds slowly began to knit themselves back together. He spent every off-shift hour sitting in my room, bringing me books, making me laugh, and ensuring that no unauthorized personnel ever stepped foot on my floor. A deep, undeniable bond was forging between us in the crucible of my trauma. He wasn't just my doctor anymore; he was the only person in the world I completely trusted.
On the fifteenth day, the hospital room door clicked open. Owen was in surgery, and my private security guard had been briefly called away.
Victoria Stanford walked into the room. She was wearing a flawless Chanel suit, a string of immaculate pearls resting against her neck, and a smile so poisonous it could wither a garden.
"Look at you," Victoria sneered, stopping at the foot of my bed, her eyes sweeping over my bandages with blatant disgust. "Like a cockroach that simply refuses to die. I must admit, I am highly disappointed in Dr. Vance. I paid him five million dollars for a simple complication, and he let a rogue trauma surgeon ruin everything."
I reached under my pillow, my fingers closing around the digital recorder Owen had given back to me. I pressed the record button blindly.
"You paid him to kill me," I said, keeping my voice perfectly flat. "You orchestrated the entire thing with Chloe. You wanted me dead so Blake could marry her and secure the Mercer logistics merger."
"Of course I did, you naive little idiot," Victoria laughed, a cold, soulless sound. "Blake is a weak, emotional boy. He needed a push to get rid of you. Chloe scratching her own arm and crying wolf was child's play. But I must say, I never expected him to use a knife. That was a delightful, dramatic bonus. It’s just a shame he didn't aim a few inches higher."
She stepped closer, leaning over my bed, her perfume suffocating me. "I am here to offer you a deal, Natalie. Blake is currently rotting in a county jail cell. Chloe has fled the state. You will sign a full recantation of your statement to the police. You will claim you attacked Chloe first, and Blake acted in self-defense. In exchange, I will wire fifty million dollars to an offshore account in your name, and you will disappear to Europe. If you refuse, I promise you, the next doctor who walks into this room won't fail to finish the job."
I looked into the eyes of the monster who had murdered my unborn twins. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I felt a cold, magnificent fire ignite in my soul. I was a former senior financial analyst. I knew how to destroy a corporation from the inside out.
"I don't want your fifty million, Victoria," I whispered, a dark smile spreading across my lips. "Because by the time I am finished with you, I am going to own every single penny your family has ever hoarded. I am going to take your company, your freedom, and your legacy. Get out of my room."
Victoria scoffed, adjusting her pearls. "You are nothing but a middle-class peasant, Natalie. You have no power."
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She turned and walked out. The moment the door closed, Owen burst into the room, still in his surgical scrubs, panic written all over his face when he saw who was walking down the hall. He rushed to my side, checking my monitors. "Did she hurt you? Are you okay?"
I pulled the digital recorder from beneath my pillow and placed it in his hand. "I am perfectly fine, Owen. Call my former boss at the investment firm. And call the best corporate litigator in the state. We are going to war."
