PART 3: THE COUNTER-HUNT
The next morning, I woke up wearing a flawless mask of my own. I was the picture-perfect, successful husband as I walked downstairs to find Vivian elegantly enjoying her breakfast.
"Did you sleep in the office last night, honey?" she asked, her voice laced with concern, though her eyes remained calculating.
"Yeah, the Pittsburgh hospital branch had a major supply chain issue. I was drowning in paperwork until 4:00 AM," I lied smoothly, leaning down to kiss her forehead—a kiss that made me feel physically sick. "I have to meet with our family attorney today to sort out a trust fund for the boys and handle Maya's situation legally. I don't want a public scandal."
Vivian’s eyes flickered at the mention of the attorney, but she smiled warmly when I brought up Maya. "Handle it quickly, please. I don’t want that ungrateful thief anywhere near our lives."
I left the estate, but I didn't go to a corporate law firm. I drove straight to the precinct where Maya was being held. Using my status and medical connections in the city, I secured a private room to speak with her.
The moment Maya saw me, she broke down. "Mr. Hale, I swear on my life, I didn't steal—"
"I know," I interrupted firmly. "I know you're innocent, Maya. I reviewed the hidden security tapes. I know everything."
Maya gasped, her tears freezing. "You... you know?"
"Listen to me carefully. I need your help. I'm posting your bail immediately under a high-priority review. But you need to play along. Act traumatized, go to the motel I’ve booked for you on the outskirts of town, and stay out of sight. I need time to trap Vivian and her accomplice. Are you willing to help me protect my boys?"
Maya nodded vigorously, a wave of relief washing over her face. "Yes, Mr. Hale. I’ll do whatever it takes. I love Ethan and Caleb like my own. I won't let that monster hurt them."
After securing Maya's safety, I contacted Marcus—my closest friend from college, who was now a high-ranking detective with the State Bureau of Investigation. We met at a secluded diner, where I handed him the encrypted files from my hidden cameras.
Marcus's expression turned grim as he watched the footage. "Arthur, this is incredibly dangerous. The man your wife is talking to... based on the alias used, we suspect he's Julian Vance. He’s a con artist wanted for multiple insurance fraud schemes involving staged accidents and 'accidental' deaths. The guy is an expert in untraceable toxins."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "He’s going to poison me?"
"Yes. According to the recording, their timeline is this weekend. You cannot eat or drink anything inside that house. We’re opening a covert investigation immediately and putting your house under 24/7 surveillance. But to catch them red-handed with undeniable intent, we need them to actually attempt the act."
"I understand," I said, clenching my fists. "I'll be the bait."
When I returned home that afternoon, I faked an intense, exhausting migraine. I knew Vivian was watching my every move. Right on cue, a predatory gleam flared in her eyes when she saw me collapsing onto the sofa, clutching my head.
"Oh, sweetheart, you're working yourself to death," Vivian said softly, sitting beside me and gently massaging my temples. "Let me make you some hot chicken soup. After that, you can take a sleeping pill and rest. You'll feel much better tomorrow."
"Thank you... I don't know what I'd do without you," I murmured, closing my eyes. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I knew the trap was set.
Late that evening, Vivian walked into my office carrying a steaming bowl of soup and a glass of water next to a small white pill. She stood over me, her eyes overflowing with a terrifyingly fake display of affection.
"Drink up, sweetie. Go to sleep," she cooed.
I lifted the spoon to my lips, but right before I tasted it, Vivian’s phone rang downstairs. She flinched, glanced at me, and said, "Go ahead and eat. I have to take this call from my mother downstairs."
The second her shadow cleared the doorway, I acted. I quickly poured the tainted soup and water into a sterile glass specimen vial I had hidden in my jacket pocket. I replaced it with an identical, safe bowl of soup I had smuggled into my office cabinet earlier. I threw the fake pill into my mouth, swallowed, and then slumped over my desk, perfectly mimicking a man falling into a deep, drug-induced coma.
A few minutes later, the office door creaked open. Vivian walked in. She saw the empty bowl and my limp body. She stepped close, shaking my shoulder violently. "Arthur? Arthur? Wake up!"
I remained completely still, forcing my breathing to be shallow and uneven.
May you like
Vivian let go of my shoulder. A cold, wicked giggle broke the silence of the dark room. She pulled out her phone and dialed. "Julian, he took it. Your toxin is perfect; he's slipping into a deep coma. Get over here now. We need to set up the scene to look like a stroke from overwork and a sleeping pill overdose. Hurry up. The kids are dead asleep next door. No one is left to stand in our way."
Hearing her speak about our children like obstacles made my blood boil. But I forced myself to wait. The hunters were about to become the prey.
