Chapter 4

I clenched my jaw, the veins on my forehead bulging.

"I checked the lock on the study door. There are fresh scratches on it."

Olivia sat on the edge of the bed, her hand brushing over my face.

"Why can't you just be obedient?"

I desperately fought to suppress my rising panic.

"Olivia, I swear I didn't. I just went to the bathroom."

"Stop acting."

She violently whipped the blanket off me.

She grabbed my arm and dragged me to the edge of the bed.

"The mud on your bare feet hasn't even been wiped off. There are footprints on the study floor."

My body went completely rigid. I couldn't find my voice.

Olivia raised the syringe.

She pushed the plunger slightly, squirting a bit of liquid from the needle.

"I wanted to let you live for three more months, but you just had to be difficult."

She smiled.

"Let's end this tonight."

The moment the needle touched my skin, I violently thrashed and broke free.

Olivia didn't expect me to have the strength to fight back.

She lost her balance, falling backward, and the syringe flew out of her hand.

I rolled off the bed and dashed toward the door.

But before I could take two steps, she grabbed me by the collar from behind.

"Did you really think you could escape?"

She dragged me back.

She threw me violently onto the bed, pinning my legs down with her knees.

The pain made my vision blur, but I gritted my teeth and screamed.

"Olivia! If you kill me, the police will find out!"

"The police?"

She looked at me with pure disdain.

"You have severe amnesia. Everyone knows that."

"You forget everything every day, and you hurt yourself during your episodes."

"Tonight, you had a breakdown and accidentally injected yourself with a lethal dose of your own medication. What does that have to do with me?"

She leaned down, her face inches from mine.

"Julian will back up my story. He’ll tell them your condition had already deteriorated beyond control."

"Do you really think anyone will suspect me?"

Olivia let go of my collar.

She stood up to pick up the spare syringe from the floor.

That was my one-second window.

I reached under my pillow and pulled out the phone I had hidden there earlier.

The screen was bright. A call was in progress.

The number dialed was 911.

I held up the phone, my voice trembling but loud.

"Olivia, you’ve been talking for three minutes. The operator heard every single word."

She froze.

Her face turned instantly pale.

Suddenly, loud, frantic banging echoed from the front door.

"Police! Open up!"

Olivia looked at me, a cold, mocking laugh escaping her lips.

"Ethan... when did you get your memory back?"

I didn't answer.

I just clutched the phone and screamed toward the door.

"Help! In here!"

The bedroom door was kicked open.

Two uniformed police officers rushed in, followed by an officer holding a body cam.

Olivia stepped back.

A polite, sweet smile instantly returned to her face.

"Officers, this is all a misunderstanding. My husband is very sick. He’s having a manic episode right now."

The lead officer cut her off, raising his hand.

"Ma'am, we have your entire confession recorded on the line."

"Put your hands behind your back."

Olivia's smile froze.

She turned to look at me, her lips curling into a venomous smirk.

The officers handcuffed her and started wheeling her out.

As she passed by me, she suddenly stopped.

She leaned in, whispering in a voice only I could hear.

"Ethan, do you really think this is over?"

"Don't forget, Julian is still out there."

I looked up sharply.

At the far end of the hallway, Julian was standing in the shadows.

He was holding a surgical scalpel.

He smiled at me, then vanished down the stairs.

The officers rushed after him.

But all I heard from downstairs was the sound of hurried footsteps, and then, total silence.

I gripped the edge of the bed to stand up, my chest heaving.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed.

A text from an unknown number appeared on the screen. It was just one line:

"Ethan, we're not done yet."