720 DAYS IN PRISON, HE RETURNED INVINCIBLE

Chapter twelve: Sweetest thing that kills

"What the hell did you just say?"

Mr. Whitmore's voice dropped to a dangerous edge.

He closed the gap with Killian with one step, anger radiating from him.

Killian didn't move. He didn't blink.

"I have no other explanation to give." He said simply and turned towards the exit again.

"Securities!!" Mr. Whitmore barked towards the exit.

The trained bodyguards flanking the corridor stormed the room, boots thundered collectively, vibrating marbles.

"Restrain him!"

Mr. Whitmore crossed the room to meet Killian, his footsteps heavy against the floor.

"Did you just wish my daughter dead? And you— called me a murderer?!" His voice was dangerously low with anger rumbling just beneath the surface.

Killian didn't speak.

"Filicide! You accused me of Filicide, young man. You're in trouble!" The man said sneer, saliva spraying from his mouth. He took another step closer, glaring at Killian. "If anything. If anything should go wrong with Aria I swear I'm going to kill you bastard!"

"You have to apologize respectfully, Mr. Whitmore. That's an insult." Killian said, his Voice maddeningly calm despite the tension in the room.

Mr. Whitmore's expression faltered for some seconds, stunned by his unbothered reaction.

"You think this is a joke?!" He hissed.

"You— are the one joking with her life." Killian started with a calm voice, each word coming out smoothly like he was reading everything from a book. "Your carelessness to simple details is the reason she's like this—"

The room was still oblivious. They exchanged stunned glances.

"— the chocolate you got for her from the road side retail store instead of taking her to a registered convenience store because scheduled meeting matter more than your daughter's satisfaction."

The room plunged into silence now. They listened.

Mr. Whitmore's expression dropped from anger to utter shock and to confusion as Killian narrated yesterday's event like he had been there with them.

"— the seller wasn't there by accident. He was positioned at the spot. For a purpose. The chocolate, your short-sightedness to see what was obvious was what puts the innocent kid's life between life and death."

"Technically, you're the reason she's dying."

Mr. Whitmore blinked in shock, his shoulder suddenly slumped as revelation struck him with clarity.

"How did you..." His voice trialed off. "But it was just... chocolate."

"To you it was." Killian said. "It was a poison flavored to look like chocolate. What sweet kills fastest."

Mrs. Whitmore materialized at his side, looking the most confused human on Earth.

"Sweetheart. What is he talking about?"

He turned to his wife, his voice cracking. "He's...he's right. Yesterday. Aria was disturbing me to get her chocolate when I went to pick her up from school. You remembered the driver called in to inform me the car broke down along the road."

"I had a meeting scheduled at that time. I couldn't stop that car to get her the chocolate. Fortunately, I saw a small shop by the road side, barely a shop— just a wooden craft displaying desserts. I quickly got her one....I didn't know it would lead to this.." His voice broke in confusion.

"Chocolate?" Dr. Williams let out a sharp amusing laughter. "Mr. And Mrs. Whitmore I'm surprised you believed the story bullshit from the con artist. It's a made-up!" He stepped forward. "There is no medical record in history that chocolate consumption attacks the human system. it's invalid theory! This man here is a desperate one!"

"But how did he know..how did he know I was there.." Mr. Whitmore's mind spun wildly to grasp something he couldn't reach as confusion smoothed.

"That explains his purpose here. He must have been tracking your movements from the street and he's here to play on your wife's desperation." His eyes glinted with malice. "Who knows if he's not responsible for your daughter's failing health."

"Stop!! Everyone stop!!" Mrs. Whitmore's voice cut through the chatter. Her chest rose and fell heavily, frustrated by the exchange that wouldn't make her daughter wake.

"Out! Now! Get out!" Her finger snapped at the door, gaze locked on Killian fiercely. Dr. Williams smirked at the turn out of the event. "I'm disappointed in you. I thought you couldn't really—"

At exactly twenty minutes, the monitor faltered violently, cutting her voice off. Aria's chest jerked upward with violent force of something vital forcing out from her chest. She convulsed, body shaking against tubes and machines that had long failed to rescue her.

Dr. Williams bolted to the bed with the speed that indicated medical emergency, screaming for diazepam.

"We're losing her! Get the injection! She needs to be stabilized!"

"Here, Doc." One nurse handed him the injection quickly.

The room scrambled— nurses refilling syringes with stabilizing fluids, Junior doctor checking vitals that had been checked before.

Mrs. Whitmore watched with an aching heart. Tears misted in her eyes. Palm pressed over her mouth to suppress a voice that muffled out despair.

"Oh, God..Aria."

"Keep your eyes on the monitor!" Dr. Williams screamed, voice trembling despite twenty years of accumulated experience of doing this over and again.

The syringe found Aria's forearm, silver needle driving into flesh with urgency that made veins visible without searching, Diazepam discharged with urgent surgical efficiency.

The Monitor stopped. Static ringing sound. Straight line dragged along the monitor screen, digital displaying zero that made realization sink like stone in water.

Syringe dropped from Dr. Williams hand, his expression paled by the outcome of his own attempt for revival that now felt like a murder act.

Aria laid still on the bed. Chest still. Face completely drained of blood. Dead. Still.

"No..no... It can't be..it can't..."