Alex was poring over a difficult set of equations when his phone chimed beside him. He almost ignored it—until the notification preview flashed a familiar name. He tapped it open, and as his eyes reached the last line of the message, a slow smile spread across his face.
He had been accepted to work at DaVinci as an accountant.
DaVinci—the same school he prayed to enter. If he secured admission, he would receive his own apartment, a monthly living allowance, and coverage for food, clothing, and basic maintenance. It was everything he had dreamed of, wrapped neatly into a single opportunity. The message injected him with a new surge of strength. He straightened, rolled his shoulders, and returned to his books with renewed determination.
In her room, Camilla made a digital copy of her completed draft, signed it, and finally pushed her chair back. The exhaustion clawing at her body could no longer be ignored. She packed the documents, rearranged the table, and staggered toward her room, her limbs heavy like soaked cloth.
Her face was pale, dark circles bruised the skin around her eyes, and her hair clung to her scalp in tired, uneven strands. Even breathing felt like a chore. She opened the bathroom door, turned on the water, and lowered herself into the bathtub.
The water was far too hot.
"Ah!" Camilla screamed—then went still, the shock overwhelming her already weakened body. She slumped sideways and lost consciousness.
At that exact moment, Alex received another notification: the exam had been moved up to next week. His body tensed. He shut the book, stood abruptly, and headed for the kitchen to make something energizing.
But the moment he slid open the glass partition, a blast of foul odor slapped him across the face.
He gagged, clutching his nose. Plates, used over a week ago, were piled high in the sink, crusted over with mold. The air was thick—almost visible—with the stench of rotting leftovers. The kitchen breathed decay.
"What happened in here…?" he whispered, horrified.
He scanned the hallway. Camilla's clothes were strewn all the way from the living room to the entrance of her bathroom like she had been shedding strength with every step.
A pang of fear stabbed through him.
"Sister? Sister!" Alex called, banging on the bathroom door.
A cold breeze swept through the hall, and a chilling premonition tightened his chest an echo of the grief he thought he had buried. His instincts, sharpened by every hardship he had endured, roared to life.
Alex rammed the door open.
Camilla lay unconscious in the bathtub, water still steaming around her limp body.
"Sis!" he choked, horror twisting his face. He pulled her into his arms, not caring about the water soaking him or her nakedness. He sprinted out of the apartment.
"Call the ambulance!" Alex screamed, voice cracking.
Charlie looked up from his post, eyes widening at the sight of Camilla's exposed, unconscious form. He quickly averted his gaze and rushed forward.
"Mr. Pierce there's a hospital six blocks away. I'll drive."
He wrapped Camilla in a thick blanket, grabbed the nearest keys from the desk, and sprinted ahead.
A sleek SUV beeped as he pressed the remote. He didn't stop to wonder whose vehicle it was Camilla's life outweighed etiquette.
He opened the door, climbed in, and gestured for Alex. "Get in!"
Across the city, in a glass elevator rising smoothly to the seventh floor, Manuel and his design team were on their way to Mr. Gurah's office. Manuel hoped expected that he would see Camilla. She had promised to create an improved version of his first-ever interior design draft.
If he could bring her into his company…
If he could secure her talent for himself…
It would open doors that even his extensive connections could not.
But the universe was already pulling Camilla somewhere else toward a destiny Manuel did not yet see coming.