Chapter 6
The story detonated like a bomb.
Within hours, Roman's company stock plummeted. His face was plastered across every news site, every social feed. The photos of my scars — clinical, undeniable — went viral. Dr. Chen's medical report was quoted in every article.
Dr. Voss was arrested at his clinic at 9 AM. He crumbled immediately, giving a full confession in exchange for a plea deal. He confirmed everything: the unauthorized surgeries, the sedation protocols, the kidney removal Roman had personally orchestrated.
Roman was smarter. By 10 AM, he'd lawyered up. By noon, his legal team released a statement calling the allegations "fabricated by a mentally unstable estranged wife."
But the evidence was overwhelming. The forged consent forms had his fingerprints. The text messages to Elise were verified. The email to Dr. Voss was timestamped from his personal device.
By evening, a warrant was issued for Roman's arrest.
They didn't find him.
Nadia brought me food at the hotel. She sat on the edge of my bed and held my hand while I shook.
"He's gone underground," she said carefully. "But the police are confident. His accounts are frozen. He can't run forever."
"He's Roman," I said. "He always has a plan."
At midnight, a message came through on the burner phone — a number I didn't recognize.
*Camille. You have no idea what you've done. Elise is dying. Without Thursday's procedure, she has weeks. You've killed her. Does that make you feel good?*
Roman.
My fingers hovered over the screen. Then I typed: *You killed me first. Three years, one kidney, half my bone marrow, and my entire life. Elise can find another donor. I can't get back what you took.*
His reply was instant: *I would have made it painless. You would have just gone to sleep. Is this really better? Running, hiding, afraid? I gave you three beautiful years.*
The audacity made me want to throw the phone against the wall. Three beautiful years of being farmed like an animal.
*You're going to prison, Roman.*
*No, sweetheart. I'm coming to find you. And when I do, we're going to have a conversation about loyalty.*
I showed Nadia the messages. Her face went white.
"We need to move you," she said immediately. "Tonight."
But as we packed my bag, the hotel room phone rang. The front desk.
"Mrs. Hale? There's a delivery here for you. Peonies. The card says 'From your husband, with love.'"
He knew where I was.
Nadia grabbed my arm. "Fire escape. Now."
We ran.
Within hours, Roman's company stock plummeted. His face was plastered across every news site, every social feed. The photos of my scars — clinical, undeniable — went viral. Dr. Chen's medical report was quoted in every article.
Dr. Voss was arrested at his clinic at 9 AM. He crumbled immediately, giving a full confession in exchange for a plea deal. He confirmed everything: the unauthorized surgeries, the sedation protocols, the kidney removal Roman had personally orchestrated.
Roman was smarter. By 10 AM, he'd lawyered up. By noon, his legal team released a statement calling the allegations "fabricated by a mentally unstable estranged wife."
But the evidence was overwhelming. The forged consent forms had his fingerprints. The text messages to Elise were verified. The email to Dr. Voss was timestamped from his personal device.
By evening, a warrant was issued for Roman's arrest.
They didn't find him.
Nadia brought me food at the hotel. She sat on the edge of my bed and held my hand while I shook.
"He's gone underground," she said carefully. "But the police are confident. His accounts are frozen. He can't run forever."
"He's Roman," I said. "He always has a plan."
At midnight, a message came through on the burner phone — a number I didn't recognize.
*Camille. You have no idea what you've done. Elise is dying. Without Thursday's procedure, she has weeks. You've killed her. Does that make you feel good?*
Roman.
My fingers hovered over the screen. Then I typed: *You killed me first. Three years, one kidney, half my bone marrow, and my entire life. Elise can find another donor. I can't get back what you took.*
His reply was instant: *I would have made it painless. You would have just gone to sleep. Is this really better? Running, hiding, afraid? I gave you three beautiful years.*
The audacity made me want to throw the phone against the wall. Three beautiful years of being farmed like an animal.
*You're going to prison, Roman.*
*No, sweetheart. I'm coming to find you. And when I do, we're going to have a conversation about loyalty.*
I showed Nadia the messages. Her face went white.
"We need to move you," she said immediately. "Tonight."
But as we packed my bag, the hotel room phone rang. The front desk.
"Mrs. Hale? There's a delivery here for you. Peonies. The card says 'From your husband, with love.'"
He knew where I was.
Nadia grabbed my arm. "Fire escape. Now."
We ran.