“She was getting weaker,” Immani said, and her voice finally cracked. Not from fear, but fury. “And Viven acted like it was normal. Like Elena’s body was just giving up.”
Immani pointed at the orange juice.
“But people don’t collapse on a schedule unless someone is writing it.”
Viven’s eyes hardened. “You’re poisoning him against me.”
“No,” Immani replied. “You did that all by yourself.”
Fernando grabbed his phone with shaking hands.
“Give me the clinic name,” he said. “Now. Or I call an ambulance, the police, everyone. We test everything in this house. We test her blood. We test that powder. We test you.”
For the first time, Viven’s smile truly failed.
A beat of silence passed, thin and electric.
Elena whispered, barely audible, “Please don’t leave me alone with her.”
Something inside Fernando broke cleanly in two.
The man who had believed.
And the father who would never forgive himself for it.
Fernando didn’t answer with words at first.
He answered with his body.
He stepped between Elena’s wheelchair and Viven, as if one stance could block months of neglect. His shoulders squared, jaw tight, eyes glassy with pain that had finally turned into purpose.