Shadows, Syringes and Secrets
The night air was sharp, thick with exhaust fumes and early frost. Cynthia stood outside the hospital, her coat clutched tightly around her, face blotched from crying. Her father was gone. The last thing tying her to a past that made sense had been taken from her—by the man she now called husband.
She tried to flag down a cab with a shaking hand, swallowing her grief like bile.
That’s when she saw him.
Caleb’s black SUV turned the corner at a slow, deliberate pace. Its sleek frame and blackout windows were unmistakable. He was alone.
Something inside her jolted. She stepped off the curb, heart pounding.
A yellow cab pulled up beside her. She didn’t hesitate.
“Follow that car,” she told the driver, pointing ahead. “Don’t lose it.”
The driver gave her a side glance but didn’t ask questions. New York was full of women chasing things they shouldn’t.
The SUV weaved through the downtown streets before stopping outside a private clinic tucked behind a steel gate. No signage. No lights. Just a code-protected door that slid open as Caleb stepped out of the car.
Cynthia threw a wad of bills at the driver and got out, slipping into the shadows.
She followed him through the doors just before they shut, heart thudding. The receptionist barely glanced up before ushering Caleb through a back corridor. Cynthia waited, then silently slipped in behind him, hiding behind a partition as he entered a sleek consultation room.
She crouched near the door, just out of view, and listened.
Inside, a woman’s voice spoke softly but firmly.
“You waited too long to come back, Caleb.”
“I’m here now,” he said, flat and tired.
“You missed two doses. That’s not acceptable.”
“I had a funeral to deal with.”
“You’re the one who started the clock ticking. If you want any shot at slowing the progression, we need consistency.”
“I didn’t come here to be scolded.”
A pause.
Then the doctor asked, “Did you go through with the plan?”
There was silence. Then Caleb replied, “Yes.”
“So when are you going to get her pregnant?” the doctor asked.
Cynthia’s breath caught.
“Soon,” Caleb answered. “We were… together. It wasn’t planned. But it happened.”
“Good,” the doctor said. “It’s our best chance. If her hormone levels rise during early pregnancy, her body will begin producing antibodies and metabolic proteins we can synthesize. Her immune profile is close to what we need.”
“You’re sure she’s the match?” Caleb asked curiously.
“I’ve reviewed it six times. Genetically, she’s your best shot. You chose well.”
“And she has no idea.” he said with a little smirk on his lips.
“None.”
Silence stretched again.
Then the doctor asked, “What about the child Liliana claims is yours?”
Caleb gave a bitter laugh. “I don’t trust her. She found out I was sick, filed for divorce, and now magically appears with a child five years later?”
“You think she’s lying?”
“She’s always lying. She knew I wanted a child for research, and she knew I’d never use her DNA. This is her way of clawing back into my life and my company.”
Cynthia pressed a hand to her mouth, bile rising in her throat.
She was never the plan. She was a means. A formula. A science experiment wrapped in satin and secrets.
She slipped out the door without making a sound and didn’t stop moving until she was back in the cab, her fingers curled into fists in her lap.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Everything, everything, had been a lie.
---
When Caleb returned to the penthouse hours later, he was greeted by silence.
Then Cynthia stepped out of the shadows of the hallway, arms crossed, face calm but her eyes burned.
“You lied,” she said.
He paused. “About what?”
She walked toward him slowly, stopping just short of his chest, “You said this marriage was about revenge. You forgot to mention it was also about using me to breed a cure for your disease.”
Caleb stiffened, “Who told you?”
She smiled without warmth. “Does it matter? You used me. Slept with me. Married me. And all of it was to turn me into your personal petri dish.”
“It's not like that—” Caleb tried to convince her
“Don’t insult my intelligence.” Cynthia raged.
“I didn’t want it to be this way,” he said, quieter now.
“But it is.” she replied.
There was silence.
Then she asked, voice trembling, “Was anything real?”
Caleb looked at her. “You were.”
She slapped him. Harder than before.
Caleb didn’t react, but his shoulders twitched. His hands were suddenly shaking. He turned away from her and staggered toward the closet. She followed. He flung open the drawer, rifling for something but his tremors made it hard.
She stepped into the doorway, holding the small white pill bottle in her hand.
His eyes snapped to it.
“You need this to calm your nerves,” she said softly.
“Give it to me.”
Cynthia held it up between two fingers, “You’ll get it,” she said. “Only if you divorce me. Right now.”
He stared at her, unblinking, “Cynthia—”
“If you don’t, I’ll throw it off the balcony.” Cynthia threatened.
“Don’t.”
Her hands were steady now. Her power real. She was no longer the girl being used. She was holding the leash now.
But then, her phone buzzed..Her eyes flicked to the screen.
Marcus.
$500,000. Or the video goes live tomorrow. Don’t test me, princess.
Her world spun again. Two threats. One man dying. One man ready to kill her reputation.
She held the pills tighter.
Caleb stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “Who texted you?”
She locked eyes with him. “No one.”
But he didn’t believe her. He was breathing harder now.
She was trapped between two devils, one she married, and one she ran from.
