“Call the clinic,” he demanded. “On speaker. Right now. Or I call the police and an ambulance, and I hand them every hidden vial in this house.”
Elena’s voice came out small, trembling.
“Dad…”
Fernando swallowed hard, eyes wet.
“I’m here,” he promised, louder now, as if volume could rewrite the past. “I’m here, Elena. And I’m not letting anyone rewrite your body ever again.”
Viven stood frozen.
Her silence sharpened into something terrifying because for the first time, she didn’t have a story ready.
And in that pause, Fernando realized the most brutal part.
Whatever Viven had done to Elena wasn’t an accident.
It was a plan.
Fernando didn’t wait for Viven to answer.
He moved like a man chasing the last seconds before something irreversible happened.
Straight to the freezer.
He yanked the door open so hard the interior light shuttered.
Cold air spilled out, fogging his vision.
He shoved aside neatly labeled containers, ice trays, frozen herbs, until his fingers hit something that didn’t belong.
A small jar buried deep, wrapped in plastic, hidden behind a wall of ice.
He tore it free.
Frost flaked onto the floor like ash.
Immani leaned in, eyes narrowing.