The slap landed like a thunderclap, fire exploding across my cheek. My head snapped sideways, vision sparking white, and for one dizzy second I was still there, kneeling in spilled tea, Victor's lifeless hand slipping away from mine,and Elena's triumphant whisper ringing in my ears.
Then the world snapped back into focus.
I wasn't on the living-room floor.
I was on my feet, swaying in the brightly lit foyer of Elena's mansion, with Victor's phone still clenched in my fist like I'd been about to throw it.
My throat burned raw, as if I'd been screaming for minutes. My shoes were on and my skirt was wrinkled but whole. I looked around me and their were no cuffs on my wrist neither were there police lights strobing through the windows.
Just Elena standing in front of me, hand still half-raised, eyes wide with something that looked like concern but felt like calculation.
Lily hovered behind her in her pajamas, clutching her bunny, staring at me like I was a stranger who'd broken into her house.
"Alyssa," Elena said sharply, lowering her hand. "Get a grip. You stormed in here screaming Victor's name like someone was murdering him."
My mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. The words were still lodged in my throat.
Poison, thallium, he reached for you, he died in your arms. I looked around wildly. The marble floor was clean. No shattered mug. No brown stains. No body, and definitely not blood.
"Victor," I croaked. My voice sounded small, scraped hollow. "Where is he?"
I lunged at Elena before I could think, my fingers twisted into the silk of her robe, yanking hard enough that I heard threads tear. "Where is he? What did you do with him?"
She stumbled back a step, but recovered fast—too fast. Her hands clamped over mine, prying them loose with surprising strength. "Stop it," she whispered, placing her two hands on her cheeks,staring right into my eyes, she spoke low enough that Lily wouldn't hear the venom. "You're scaring lily."
Lily cries. "You're hurting Mummy, Auntie…"
The sound of that tiny, frightened voice hit me like another slap. I let go so suddenly Elena almost fell. My arms dropped to my sides, heavy as lead.
Lily ran closer to her mother, pressing against Elena's leg, and Elena's hand settled protectively on the child's head, perfect maternal instinct, perfectly performed in the usual Elena way.
"Go back to bed, darling," Elena murmured, soft as ever. "Auntie isn't feeling well."
I backed away until the wall met my spine. My heart was trying to punch its way out of my chest, each beat too loud, too fast. The air felt thick, like I was breathing syrup. "He came home drunk," Elena said calmly, as if explaining to a child. "He's sleeping it off in the guest room. Work has been… difficult lately."
Lies. All of it lies.
I bolted past her, didnt let her finish, ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Their bedroom door stood ajar, soft lamplight spilling out. I shoved it open hard enough to bang against the wall.
The bed was made. The pillows neatly fluffed. I saw no spot where a body might have lain, no whiskey smell, no Victor.
I tore the duvet back anyway, sheets cool and smooth under my shaking hands.
"It was empty".
I ran towards the closet, ripped it open and shoved hangers aside ,the suits and dresses swayed like ghosts.
"Nothing"
The bathrooms were empty. The shower curtain yanked back so hard that it screeched on the rings.
"Still empty"
He was dead. I had felt his pulse stop. I had seen the light leave his eyes as he reached past me for her.
But the room was untouched, sparkly Like the entire night had been scrubbed clean.
My knees gave out. I sank to the carpet, palms pressed to my eyes, trying to hold the images in, the foam oozing out of his mouth, the rattle in his throat, Elena's smile through her tears. But they were slipping, fraying at the edges. Doubt crept in like cold fingers around my throat.
I heard Elena downstairs, her voice were low and urgent to one of the maids: "Call Dr. Harlan. Tell him it's urgent—she's having another episode. She hasn't been taking her medication."
Episode!
The word sliced straight through me, dragging me back, way back.
Back to Uncle Lucas's hands in the dark, the way no one believed me, the way they said I was making it up for attention. Therapy rooms that smelled like antiseptic and pity. Bottles of pills that made everything fuzzy at the edges. "Paranoid tendencies." "Delusional thinking." "Manage the stress triggers."
I dragged myself up, gripping the banister all the way down. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else. Elena waited at the bottom, arms folded now, watching me descend like a doctor observing a patient.
"Do I look crazy to you, Elena?" My voice cracked halfway through.
For one heartbeat, one single, damning heartbeat.
something flickered across her face. A curl at the corner of her mouth. A glint in her eye. "Triumph".
Then it was gone, replaced by gentle worry.
She stepped forward with her hands outstretched. "Lys, sweetheart. Have you been taking your meds?"
The childhood nickname hit like acid. No one had called me that since we were kids. No one except her, when she wanted to sound like the caring big sister.
"You're trying to make me look insane," I whispered. My back hit the wall again. "You poisoned him. I saw it. I felt him die."
Elena's expression softened even more, but her eyes stayed sharp. "Victor is asleep downstairs. You're exhausted. You've been under so much stress—with everything." Her gaze flicked downward for a fraction of a second, loaded with meaning. The affair. The guilt. The secret.
I shook my head violently. "I saw the tea. The texts. The way he reached for you—"
"Lys." She reached for my arm. "Come sit down. Dr. Harlan will be here soon."
"No." The word exploded out of me, louder than I intended. "You're doing this. You're making everyone think I'm losing it, just like before, just like with Uncle Lucas."
Something shifted in her face then, real emotion, or the closest she ever came to it. Irritation. "That was different," she said quietly. "You were a child. Traumatized. We all tried to help you."
Help. The word tasted like ash. Help had meant pills that dulled everything, therapists who nodded and prescribed more, family who whispered "poor Alyssa" behind my back while they believed him.
My vision tunneled. The walls pressed in. Breathing turned shallow, frantic.
I couldn't pull in enough air. My hands went numb, tingling spreading up my arms. The room tilted sideways.
"You did this," I rasped, sliding down the wall until I was crouched on the cold marble. "You killed him. You're killing me."
Elena knelt in front of me, close enough that I smelled her lavender perfume, the same scent that clung to Victor's clothes after he came home from "late meetings." Her hand hovered near my shoulder, not quite touching.
"Breathe, Lys. In and out."
But I couldn't. The panic clawed higher, ripping screams from my throat that came out as whimpers. Everything blurred, i felt lights fading and Elena's face swimming above me.
The last thing I saw clearly was her leaning closer, voice soft as silk: "It's okay lys. Let go. I've got you."
Then darkness rushed in, thick and absolute.
But just before it swallowed me completely…
…a whisper. Faint. Real. From somewhere deeper in the house.
"Lys… help me…"
Victor's voice.
Raw.
Afraid.
Alive, (I think)