Victoria's POV
"Actually," I say, my voice suddenly steady, "I came here to report a lost umbrella. I left it on campus yesterday."
The lie comes out smooth and easy. Marcus taught me well—how to lie, how to manipulate, how to play games. He just never expected me to use those skills against him.
Chief Morrison looks confused. "An umbrella?"
"Yes. Black with a wooden handle. My late son gave it to me." I let my voice crack on the word 'son,' and both men's expressions soften. Grief is a powerful weapon when you know how to use it. "I've been retracing my steps all evening trying to find it. I thought maybe someone turned it in."
Marcus's jaw tightens. He knows I'm lying, but he can't call me out without looking suspicious himself.
"I haven't seen any umbrellas turned in," Chief Morrison says kindly. "But I'll keep an eye out for it."
"Thank you." I turn to Marcus. "I'm ready to go home now."
I walk out before he can respond. Outside, the rain has stopped, but everything is wet and cold. I hear Marcus's footsteps behind me.
"That was clever," he says quietly as we reach the parking lot. "But it won't work again. I'm always three steps ahead of you, Victoria."
"I know," I say. And I do know. Marcus has planned everything perfectly. But knowing that gives me a strange kind of power. If I can predict his moves, maybe I can survive them.
"When we get home, you're drinking that juice," Marcus says. "No more delays."
"Fine," I agree.
He looks surprised. Suspicious. "Just like that?"
"I'm tired of fighting. You win." I make my voice flat and defeated. "I'll drink it."
Marcus studies my face, trying to see if I'm lying. But I learned from the best. I show him exactly what he wants to see—a broken woman giving up.
"Good," he finally says. "Let's go."
But I don't get in his car. "I need to walk. Clear my head first. I'll be home in an hour."
"Victoria—"
"You're already going to kill me," I say. "What difference does an hour make? Let me have one last walk. Please."
Marcus considers this. "One hour. If you're not home by then, I call the police and tell them you attacked Dr. Morrison and ran."
"I'll be there."
He drives away, and I'm alone in the parking lot. My hands shake as I pull out my phone. I have one hour to figure out how to survive this.
I could run. But where? I have no money, no friends, no family who'll help me.
I could go to the police. But Marcus has already poisoned that well. They'll think I'm paranoid and delusional.
I could drink the poison and just give up.
No. I'm not giving up. Not after surviving this long. Not when there's someone else Marcus plans to hurt.
Ezra.
I need to warn him. Even if he doesn't believe me. Even if it costs me everything.
I walk back to the bench where we sat together. He's not there anymore, but I remember he said he comes here most evenings. Same bench. Same time.
I check my phone. I have forty-five minutes left.
I sit down on the wet bench and wait.
Students walk past, laughing and talking about normal things like homework and parties. They have no idea how lucky they are. How safe and free and alive.
I used to be like them. Before I married a monster. Before I let grief destroy me. Before I became too weak to save even myself.
But I'm not weak anymore. The fog from Marcus's drugs has cleared. My mind is sharp again. And I'm angry.
So, so angry.
Marcus killed my baby. Tortured me for two years. Hurt my therapist. And now he's planning to destroy another innocent person.
I won't let him.
"You came back."
I jump. Ezra is standing there, holding two coffee cups. He looks surprised to see me.
"I hoped you would," he says, offering me one of the cups. "You looked cold earlier. Like you needed something warm."
I take the coffee. It's a simple kindness, but it makes my eyes burn with tears. When was the last time someone did something kind for me without wanting something in return?
"Thank you," I whisper.
He sits beside me. We don't talk for a moment. Just sit together, drinking coffee, watching the campus lights come on as darkness settles in.
"Can I tell you something strange?" Ezra finally says.
"Please."
"I usually avoid people. Ever since my mentor died two years ago, I've kept to myself. But when I saw you sitting here earlier, crying in the rain... I couldn't walk away. It felt like I was supposed to sit with you."
My heart clenches. He has no idea how much danger he's in. How Marcus has already marked him as the next victim.
"Tell me about your mentor," I say. Maybe if I understand what happened to her, I can understand Marcus's pattern. Find a way to stop him.
Ezra's face shadows with pain. "Professor Mitchell. She was brilliant. Kind. She believed in me when no one else did." He stares into his coffee. "Then one day, she jumped from her office window. Everyone said she'd been depressed. Unstable. But I was there that morning. She seemed fine. Happy, even. She said she was finally going to stand up to someone who'd been hurting people."
My blood runs cold. "Did she say who?"
"No. But after she died, I found out she'd filed a complaint against another professor. It disappeared after her death. The investigation got shut down fast." Ezra's hands tighten around his cup. "I've always wondered if someone wanted her dead. If I could have saved her if I'd just asked the right questions."
"It wasn't your fault," I say firmly.
"How do you know?"
"Because predators are good at hiding. They make you think everything is your fault. They make you doubt your own mind." I'm talking about Marcus, but Ezra doesn't know that. "Your mentor sounds like she was trying to protect people. That's brave. And dangerous."
Ezra looks at me closely. "You sound like you know about predators."
"I'm married to one," I say before I can stop myself.
The words hang in the air between us.
"I shouldn't have said that," I add quickly. "I'm sorry. You don't need to hear my problems."
"No," Ezra says quietly. "I think maybe I do. And maybe you need to say them."
I check my phone. Twenty minutes left before I have to go home and drink poison.
Twenty minutes to warn him. To tell him the truth.
But if I do, Marcus will know I betrayed him. He'll hurt Ezra immediately. Maybe kill him.
Unless...
"What if I told you that the professor your mentor complained about is still hurting people?" I say carefully. "Still manipulating students. Still dangerous."
Ezra's whole body tenses. "Do you know who it was?"
"Yes."
"Tell me. Please. I've spent two years trying to find out who destroyed Professor Mitchell. If I can expose them—"
"You can't," I interrupt. "He's too powerful. Too careful. He'll destroy you if you try."
"He?" Ezra's eyes widen. "You know it's a man. You know who it is."
I've said too much. I stand up to leave.
Ezra grabs my hand. "Wait. Please. If someone is still hurting people, I need to know. I need to stop them. I couldn't save Professor Mitchell, but maybe I can save someone else."
His hand is warm on mine. His eyes are desperate and kind and broken.
Just like mine.
"The person hurting people," I say slowly, "is my husband. Dr. Marcus Chen."
Ezra goes completely still. "You're Mrs. Chen?"
"Yes."
"But that means..." He drops my hand like it burned him. "Dr. Chen is my new mentor. He just hired me as his research assistant two weeks ago. I start working at your house tomorrow."
No. No, no, no.
It's already started. Marcus has already gotten his hooks into Ezra. And I just told Ezra the truth, which means Marcus will know I warned him.
I've doomed us both.
"You can't work for him," I say urgently. "You have to quit. Make up an excuse. Any excuse. Just get away from him before—"
My phone rings.
It's Marcus.
"Your hour is up, Victoria. Where are you?"
"Walking home," I lie. "I'll be there soon."
"You're at the campus, aren't you? At the bench. With him."
My blood turns to ice. "How—"
"I have cameras everywhere, darling. I told you. I'm always watching." His voice is silk over steel. "Come home right now, or I make the call to the police. You have ten minutes."
He hangs up.
Ezra sees my face. "What's wrong?"
"I have to go. And you have to run. Quit working for Marcus. Leave the university. Leave town if you can. He's going to destroy you, and I can't stop him."
"What are you talking about?"
"Please," I beg. "Just trust me. Get away from Marcus Chen before it's too late."
I start running toward home. Behind me, I hear Ezra calling my name, but I don't stop.
I have ten minutes to get home or Marcus calls the police.
I have maybe a day before Marcus makes me drink poison.
And I have no way to save myself or Ezra.
I burst through my front door with seconds to spare.
Marcus is waiting in the kitchen. The glass of juice sits on the counter.
"Drink it," he says. "Now."
"I told Ezra everything," I say. "About you. About Professor Mitchell. About what you do to people."
Marcus's face doesn't change. "I know. I heard every word."
He holds up his phone. He recorded our entire conversation.
"Thank you," Marcus says with a terrible smile. "You just gave me the perfect evidence that you're paranoid and delusional. Accusing me of murder. Trying to turn my student against me. It's all documented now."
"Ezra will believe me. He'll tell people."
"No, he won't. Because tomorrow morning, Ezra will receive an email from the university ethics board. Anonymous complaints that he's been stalking you. That he's been making inappropriate advances toward his mentor's wife. That he's becoming dangerous."
"You're framing him," I whisper.
"I'm protecting myself. When Ezra eventually breaks under the pressure—when he can't handle being accused of the same things people accused him of before—his suicide will be tragic but understandable." Marcus picks up the glass. "And you'll be too dead to warn anyone else."
He grabs my jaw and forces my mouth open.
I fight. I scream. I claw at his hands.
But Marcus is stronger.
He pours the poison down my throat.