Kelly did not sleep.
She sat on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the darkened doorway as if it might swallow her whole. Every sound in the house felt louder than it should. Every creak felt like a step toward her end.
Aham had not touched her.
That frightened her more than anger ever could.
He had simply walked past her, calm and unreadable, as though the truth had stripped her of all power.
She clutched her phone and dialed Don Pedro.
"He knows," she whispered the moment he answered. "He knows everything."
There was a pause on the line.
"Impossible," Don Pedro said flatly. "You're panicking."
"He watched me pour it," Kelly insisted. "He has proof."
Silence stretched.
Finally, Don Pedro spoke again, his voice colder than before. "Then you will act like you still control him."
"I don't," she said, her voice cracking. "He's different. He's watching me."
Don Pedro exhaled slowly. "Listen carefully. If he truly knows, he would have destroyed you already. He's waiting."
"For what?"
"For you to make a mistake."
The call ended.
Kelly stared at the phone, hands shaking.
Morning brought no comfort.
Aham moved through the house as if Kelly were invisible. He spoke to her only when necessary, his politeness sharp enough to cut.
At breakfast, she forced a smile.
"You didn't sleep much," she said.
"Neither did you," Aham replied without looking up.
Her pulse quickened.
Clara arrived later that morning under the excuse of legal updates. Kelly felt her presence like a blade pressed against her throat.
Clara's eyes flicked briefly toward Kelly's pale face.
"You look unwell," Clara said.
"I'm fine," Kelly replied too quickly.
Clara turned to Aham. "We need to talk."
In the study, Clara lowered her voice.
"She's unstable," she said. "Don Pedro will push her to act again."
Aham nodded. "That's what I'm counting on."
Clara hesitated. "Just promise me you won't let this go too far."
Aham met her gaze. "I won't die for revenge."
She believed him.
That afternoon, Kelly searched the house.
Not openly-carefully.
She checked drawers, shelves, even vents. She was looking for cameras. Listening devices. Anything that proved she was being watched.
She found nothing.
Which only made her more afraid.
In frustration, she slammed a drawer shut-and froze.
A folded piece of paper slid onto the floor.
She picked it up with trembling fingers.
It was a printed transcript.
TIMESTAMP: 11:42 PM
SUBJECT: POISONING ATTEMPT
Kelly dropped it as if it burned.
He wanted her to find it.
Across town, Mrs. Jane Smith sat in a quiet hotel room, laptop open, files spread neatly around her. Her face was lined with age, but her eyes were sharp with purpose.
She replayed an old audio recording.
Mr. Armstrong's voice filled the room.
"If anything happens to us, Jane... don't trust Don Pedro. Everything is in the file. Everything."
Jane closed her eyes.
"It's time," she whispered.
She sent a single encrypted message.
READY.
That evening, Kelly dressed carefully. Too carefully.
Aham noticed.
"Going somewhere?" he asked.
She forced a laugh. "Just air. I feel trapped here."
He stepped aside to let her pass. "Of course."
As she reached the door, he spoke again.
"Kelly."
She turned, heart racing.
"Don Pedro is losing control," Aham said calmly. "And when he does, he will sacrifice you."
Her face drained of color.
"You're lying," she said weakly.
Aham smiled faintly. "He already has."
She fled.
Later that night, Don Pedro received a message that made his blood run cold.
JANE SMITH HAS LANDED.
"Find her," he snapped. "Now."
But Jane Smith had vanished before he could blink.
And somewhere in the city, Kelly wandered the streets alone, realizing too late that she was no longer the hunter.
She was the bait.
---