A Queen's Scorched Earth Plan

Without a second thought, I snatched the vial and fled the office.

Back at the hospital, I carefully injected the medicine into my father's IV drip. Watching the fluid flow into his veins, my anxious heart finally settled.

"Dad, this is the specialized medication," I said, holding his hand, a glimmer of hope in my eyes. "When you get better, we'll leave this place. We'll go to a small town far away, where no one knows us."

My father smiled weakly, his eyes full of guilt. "Nathalia, it's all my fault. I'm so sorry I put you in this situation."

"No, it's not."

I took out the sandwich I had bought and poured a glass of hot water. "See, Dad, we can still survive. As long as we're alive, there's hope."

That night, for the first time in a long while, I had a good dream. In my dream, we had escaped and bought a new house by the sea.

But at dawn, the dream was shattered by the piercing alarm of the monitor.

I woke with a jolt. My father was curled into a ball, his body convulsing. The arm where I’d injected the drug had turned a horrifying shade of purple-black, and the vital signs on the monitor were plummeting.

"Dad! What's wrong?"

He clutched his throat, his eyes bulging. "It hurts… it hurts so much… like I'm on fire…"

He suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood—black blood.

My blood ran cold.

A rejection reaction. This wasn't medication. It was poison—a substance designed to trigger a fatal allergic reaction!

"Dad!" I let out a heart-wrenching scream.

Without hesitation, I grabbed his hospital bed and ran toward the lobby.

The sky was just beginning to lighten. Darius and Aila were in the lobby, giving an interview for the morning news.

I shoved my father's bed in front of them. He was still vomiting blood, his body wracked with violent convulsions.

I shouted, "Darius! I'm begging you—save him! Give me the real antidote!"

Darius looked down at me, a scornful sneer on his face.

"Oh? Looks like that 'special medicine' was a bit too strong. The old man couldn't handle it, could he?"

Aila giggled, covering her mouth. "Oh, dear. I hope I didn't accidentally give her the wrong bottle."

"You two bastards!"

I tried to lunge at them but was pinned to the floor by security.

Aila strolled over and used the tip of her stiletto to lift my chin. "Such a pretty face. What a shame."

She pulled a syringe from her pocket and lazily waved it in the air.

"Want the antidote?"

She pointed to the dense crowd of reporters and their cameras.

"You've always said you were innocent, right? Go on. Since you want to save him so badly, go and admit that the kidnapping five years ago was your own fault, a result of your promiscuous lifestyle. Right here. In front of all the media."

"Admit you're responsible for the investment failure Darius oversaw, and I'll give you the antidote."

The lobby erupted. Every camera turned to me.

"My God," a reporter muttered. "This is huge."

They adjusted their equipment, eyes gleaming with excitement, and swarmed closer.

"No… don't…" I shook my head desperately.

"I am the former chairman's daughter. You can't—"

"Not anymore," Darius said coldly. "You're unwilling? Then you can watch your father die."

My father let out a pained scream as the poison ravaged his body.

"I'll do it! I'll do it!"

Tears streamed down my face as I pushed myself up with trembling hands and walked toward the wall of microphones. An icy chill seeped through my thin hospital gown, but I felt no cold—only a humiliation that cut to the bone.