Chapter 3
I needed proof. Real, undeniable proof.
Over the next three days, I collected samples. Every meal Serena prepared for me, I secretly scraped portions into small containers Mary had smuggled to me, hidden inside a hollowed-out audiobook device.
Mary took them to an independent lab. The results came back in forty-eight hours.
"Excessive concentration of corticosteroid compounds," she read over the phone while I sat in the bathroom with the water running. "At this dosage, prolonged consumption would cause liver toxicity, suppress immune response, and—" her voice cracked—"prevent corneal regeneration."
There it was. Black and white.
"There's more," Mary said quietly. "I did some digging. Serena Ellis doesn't exist before four years ago. The name, the identity—it's fabricated. Before that, she was Sara Voss."
Sara Voss. The name meant nothing to me.
"She was a research assistant at Kieran's father's pharmaceutical company. She was fired for data fraud—and she blamed the Harris family for ruining her career. There's a wrongful termination suit that was thrown out of court."
My blood turned to ice. "So she attacked Kieran that night out of revenge."
"But she hit you instead."
"And then she came back," I whispered, "wearing a new face—literally."
Mary confirmed it. Serena had undergone extensive facial reconstruction surgery during the two years between the acid attack and her reappearance as Kieran's "assistant." A completely new face—one that no one, certainly not a blind woman, would ever recognize.
"Ivy, this is enough. We go to the police."
"Not yet."
"Why?!"
"Because I need to know if Kieran is involved."
Silence on the line. Then, softly: "You think he might be?"
I thought about the insurance policy he'd taken out on me six months after the attack—the one he thought I didn't know about. I thought about how he'd gradually isolated me from everyone except Mary. How he'd dismissed every housekeeper who'd gotten too friendly with me.
"I don't know," I said. "But if he is, I need to bring them both down at once. If I only get her, he'll protect her. He'll find a way."
Mary exhaled shakily. "Then what's the plan?"
"This weekend, Kieran's hosting a dinner for his business partners. Serena will be there as his plus one—in my house, at my table, wearing my mother's jewelry."
"And?"
"And I'm going to open my eyes in front of everyone."
Mary went silent for a long time. "That's dangerous. If Serena realizes you can see—"
"I know." I touched my eyelids, feeling the fragile miracle beneath. "But my vision could disappear tomorrow, Mary. I don't have the luxury of patience."
That night, I lay in bed beside Kieran, perfectly still. His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Through barely-open eyes, I watched him read a message.
From Serena: *"How much longer do we have to keep this up? I want what you promised me."*
His reply: *"After the insurance pays out. Be patient."*
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought my chest would crack open.
The insurance policy. The poisoned food. The acid attack that was meant for him but hit me instead—or was it?
What if I was always the target?
What if the acid was never meant for Kieran at all?
Over the next three days, I collected samples. Every meal Serena prepared for me, I secretly scraped portions into small containers Mary had smuggled to me, hidden inside a hollowed-out audiobook device.
Mary took them to an independent lab. The results came back in forty-eight hours.
"Excessive concentration of corticosteroid compounds," she read over the phone while I sat in the bathroom with the water running. "At this dosage, prolonged consumption would cause liver toxicity, suppress immune response, and—" her voice cracked—"prevent corneal regeneration."
There it was. Black and white.
"There's more," Mary said quietly. "I did some digging. Serena Ellis doesn't exist before four years ago. The name, the identity—it's fabricated. Before that, she was Sara Voss."
Sara Voss. The name meant nothing to me.
"She was a research assistant at Kieran's father's pharmaceutical company. She was fired for data fraud—and she blamed the Harris family for ruining her career. There's a wrongful termination suit that was thrown out of court."
My blood turned to ice. "So she attacked Kieran that night out of revenge."
"But she hit you instead."
"And then she came back," I whispered, "wearing a new face—literally."
Mary confirmed it. Serena had undergone extensive facial reconstruction surgery during the two years between the acid attack and her reappearance as Kieran's "assistant." A completely new face—one that no one, certainly not a blind woman, would ever recognize.
"Ivy, this is enough. We go to the police."
"Not yet."
"Why?!"
"Because I need to know if Kieran is involved."
Silence on the line. Then, softly: "You think he might be?"
I thought about the insurance policy he'd taken out on me six months after the attack—the one he thought I didn't know about. I thought about how he'd gradually isolated me from everyone except Mary. How he'd dismissed every housekeeper who'd gotten too friendly with me.
"I don't know," I said. "But if he is, I need to bring them both down at once. If I only get her, he'll protect her. He'll find a way."
Mary exhaled shakily. "Then what's the plan?"
"This weekend, Kieran's hosting a dinner for his business partners. Serena will be there as his plus one—in my house, at my table, wearing my mother's jewelry."
"And?"
"And I'm going to open my eyes in front of everyone."
Mary went silent for a long time. "That's dangerous. If Serena realizes you can see—"
"I know." I touched my eyelids, feeling the fragile miracle beneath. "But my vision could disappear tomorrow, Mary. I don't have the luxury of patience."
That night, I lay in bed beside Kieran, perfectly still. His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Through barely-open eyes, I watched him read a message.
From Serena: *"How much longer do we have to keep this up? I want what you promised me."*
His reply: *"After the insurance pays out. Be patient."*
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought my chest would crack open.
The insurance policy. The poisoned food. The acid attack that was meant for him but hit me instead—or was it?
What if I was always the target?
What if the acid was never meant for Kieran at all?