Morning came quietly, as if nothing dangerous had happened in the night.
Kelly moved through the kitchen in silk pajamas, humming softly as she prepared breakfast. To anyone watching, she looked like a woman trying to rebuild what she had broken.
Aham sat at the table, scrolling through his phone, his expression unreadable.
"Sleep well?" she asked sweetly.
"Like a rock," he replied.
Kelly smiled, relieved.
She didn't know that Clara had already confirmed the poison compound.
She didn't know the cameras had caught everything.
And she didn't know Aham was already two steps ahead.
Later that morning, Clara arrived under the guise of legal business. Kelly greeted her warmly, too warmly.
"You look well," Kelly said. "I'm glad you're still... around."
Clara smiled politely. "Someone has to keep him alive."
The tension was electric.
As Clara reviewed documents with Aham, she slipped him a note.
POISON CONFIRMED. LETHAL IN MINUTES.
Aham folded the paper calmly.
Phase One was complete.
That evening, Don Pedro summoned Kelly.
"You're moving too slowly," he said.
"He's cautious," Kelly replied. "But he still trusts me."
"Then finish it," Don Pedro snapped. "Tonight."
Kelly hesitated. "If I rush, he'll suspect."
Don Pedro leaned forward, eyes cold. "You already failed once. Do not fail again."
The line went dead.
Kelly stared at her phone, breathing hard.
Back home, Kelly poured wine carefully. She hesitated only a second before adding the poison-just enough this time.
Aham watched her reflection in the glass window.
"Come," she said softly. "Let's drink."
He smiled.
"Let's."
They clinked glasses.
Aham raised his to his lips-and tilted it just enough to fake a sip.
Kelly drank hers fully.
Time stretched.
Seconds passed.
Nothing happened.
Kelly frowned slightly.
Then her phone buzzed.
UNKNOWN: You're being watched.
Her blood ran cold.
Aham set his glass down.
"You know," he said calmly, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you."
Kelly forced a smile. "What is it?"
"How long were you planning to kill me?"
The room seemed to tilt.
Elsewhere, Mrs. Jane Smith exited a private jet under a false name. She adjusted her sunglasses, scanning the surroundings.
"They're getting close," she murmured.
In her bag was a flash drive labeled simply:
ARMSTRONG.
Kelly laughed shakily. "You're joking."
Aham leaned forward, eyes dark, voice soft.
"I watched you pour it."
Her breath hitched.
"You don't understand," she whispered. "I didn't have a choice."
Aham stood slowly. "Neither did my parents."
Her knees nearly buckled.
"You know," she said.
"I know everything," he replied.
Sirens wailed faintly in the distance-not for her, not yet, but close enough to remind her how thin the line had become.
Clara watched the live feed from her office, heart pounding.
"Don't push too hard," she whispered.
Aham touched the earpiece hidden behind his ear.
"Relax," he said softly. "The serpent only strikes when it feels safe."
Kelly backed toward the door.
"You won't kill me," she said desperately. "You're not like them."
Aham smiled faintly.
"No," he said. "I'm worse."
The doorbell rang.
Kelly froze.
Aham opened the door to reveal a courier holding a sealed envelope.
"Delivery for Kelly Armstrong."
Inside was a single photograph.
Kelly standing over Aham's glass.
The timestamp glowed red.
Her knees gave out.
Aham closed the door slowly behind the courier.
"This is where the game changes," he said.
Outside, Don Pedro watched reports on his screen.
"Why hasn't he died?" he muttered.
Somewhere across the ocean, Jane Smith whispered:
"Soon."
---