His voice lowered into something more dangerous.“What exactly did you do?”On the other end, Timothy seemed confused now.“What are you talking about?” he asked, some of the confidence draining from his tone.“What am I talking about?” the uncle repeated, almost incredulous with rage. “You told me the poison had no antidote. You said it was untreatable. You said no one would be able to survive it. Is that not what you told me?”Timothy hesitated only briefly, then answered with irritating certainty.“Yes,” he said. “That is exactly what I told you.”That answer only made the governor’s uncle angrier.“Well, then,” he said through clenched teeth, “you are a fool. A very big fool. Imagine being this proud of yourself.”The words came colder now, more deliberate.“Let me tell you the truth, and let me tell you clearly. That useless poison you gave me—”He stopped for the briefest second, as though forcing himself to say the next words without shouting.“—it is useless.”There was silenc

The admission disgusted him.“Right in front of everybody,” he repeated. “And now my sister is fine. She is moving. Breathing normally. Talking. Eating.”He laughed bitterly again.“She was even eating before I stepped out to make this call.”Timothy inhaled sharply.The governor’s uncle drove the point in harder.“So you think I’m a fool, right? You think I’m standing here making all this up?”“No,” Timothy said quickly. “No.”He swallowed.The arrogance was gone now.What remained was calculation under pressure.“I’m sorry,” Timothy said again, this time more carefully. “I will make amends for this. I will right the wrong.”The governor’s uncle remained silent, and that silence forced Timothy to push further.“Just give me one more chance,” he said.For a moment, the governor’s uncle did not answer.The words hung there in the dark between them, absurd and yet not entirely unwelcome. Because beneath the rage, beneath the embarrassment, beneath the failure of the poison and the irrit

At that moment, the governor’s uncle stood in the shadows with the spare phone still pressed tightly against his ear, his expression growing darker by the second. The soft wind that moved through the trees did nothing to calm the storm inside him. His anger had gone beyond irritation now. It had ripened into something colder, more dangerous—something with patience and malice in equal measure.For a few seconds, he said nothing.Then, in a low and deliberate voice, he asked, “So how are you planning on doing that? What exactly are you planning to do?”There was no curiosity in his tone. This was not the question of a man seeking comfort. It was the demand of a man who had already risked too much, trusted too much, and been made to feel too exposed. He wanted answers now. Not promises. Not pride. Not Timothy’s self-important reassurances. He wanted a direction, a method, a way to regain the ground that had been lost in a single disastrous evening.On the other end of the line, Dr. Timot

A slow smile spread over her face then, one she could not suppress even if she wanted to.“You really should have seen their faces,” she said, almost laughing now. “The shock on them! Especially that doctor. Oh, you needed to see him properly. You needed to see the way they all went silent.”There was clear delight in her voice now, delight mixed with admiration.“I’m so happy,” she admitted.And she meant it.There was satisfaction in seeing pride humbled, but there was also something more personal than that. She had brought Liam there believing in him when no one else did. She had defended him when it would have been easier to step aside. She had taken a risk on him, and now that risk had transformed into vindication.She had been right, and everyone had seen it.“So I really just want to say thank you,” Penelope said. “Truly. Thank you.”For a moment, the only sound in the car was the low murmur of the road beneath the tires.Then Liam gave a small nod.“Yeah,” he said, “that is ve

She looked away for a second, then back at him again, clearly torn.“I’ve been bothering you too much already,” she said. “I’ve disturbed you for too long tonight, and I don’t think it is really possible for me to keep dragging you into everything.”There was guilt in her voice now, real guilt.“You’ve already done more than enough,” she said. “This is my family’s issue. I shouldn’t be involving you in it too.”Liam listened without interrupting.Then he answered with simple directness.“You brought me tonight,” he said. “And you just saw what happened with the governor’s mother. If I can help save your father too, then why shouldn’t I try?”Penelope fell silent, that was exactly the problem.If Liam went with her and somehow saved her father the same way he had saved the governor’s mother, how would she ever repay that? What would she even give him? What would be enough? Gratitude suddenly felt too small. Money felt almost insulting. And she did not want to become someone who only to