CHAPTER 7

Clarence’s POV.

A numb sort of disbelief settled over me as I whispered again. “No. That can’t be right.”

“Mrs. Ferdinand—”

“No.” I shook my head, cutting Julian off before he could speak. “There has to be a way. There has to be something else you can do,” I insisted, refusing to accept his words.

“Please…something can be done right?” My voice wavered, and I felt the sting of tears threatening to fall.

Julian didn’t respond right away. Instead, he turned around silently and took a seat. He let out a heavy sigh before he cleared his throat.

“The nerve damage is severe. It would take a miracle after years of taking the wrong medication to make your legs work again,” he said calmly.

His words hit me like a slap. My hands gripped the arms of my wheelchair, my breath turning shallow as Damon’s face flashed through my mind.

He was the one who got me those medications. He was the one I trusted. And now, because of him—because of his choices—I was being told my surgery might be impossible.

A wave of nausea washed over me. My mind spiraled as I struggled to hold onto my sanity.

Julian’s voice pulled me back. “We’ll need to run more tests to see if there’s another way, but the chances are slim.”

I turned to him, my panic easing slightly at the possibility, however it was small.

“What are you saying? Is there another way?” My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Julian didn’t hesitate. He pulled out a scan from the folder in his hands, placing it on the table beside me.

“Although the damage is more severe than we expected, I'm sure there is still a possibility.”

“If you hadn’t come in when you did, you could have suffered a stroke.”

A stroke?

His words didn’t register at first.

I stared at the X-ray, my stomach twisting painfully. My world tilted as the weight of his statement settled over me.

This wasn’t just about my legs anymore.

For years, I had clung to the hope that things would get better—that the pain would pass, that I would heal. But now Julian was telling me that if I had waited any longer, it wouldn’t have just been my legs at risk.

It would have been my life.

A shiver ran down my spine.

The dizziness, the exhaustion… I remembered it all too well. Every time I took the pills Damon gave me, a heavy sleep would follow. My limbs would feel sluggish, my head lightweight and my body on the verge of breaking down. I had always felt that the side effects weren’t normal.

But Damon told me they were.

He insisted the hospital prescribed them—that they would help my legs. Even when the pain crept back and the pills only provided temporary relief, he convinced me it was just a side effect.

He even had proof—a doctor’s report, something he always made sure to show me whenever I questioned him.

But I never saw the prescriptions. Never met the doctor.

Damon never let me visit a hospital.

It was always his personal doctor who came to check up on me, a man I barely spoke to—someone who never explained anything beyond what Damon allowed.

My chest tightened as I forced myself to breathe, but the pounding in my head wouldn’t stop.

Julian stood there, waiting for me to speak. I took a deep breath and said, “I stopped taking them a year ago… when things started falling apart between us.”

His eyes flickered slightly, but he said nothing.

“I took them for a year,” I admitted, my throat burning with emotion. “And now you’re telling me they weren’t just painkillers?”

Silence stretched between us.

A chilling thought clawed its way into my mind, sending a shiver through me.

Had Damon been… poisoning me?

That would explain why he never let me miss a dose. Why he always made sure I took them—even adding them to my meals when I forgot?

The realization made my stomach churn. But I couldn’t bring myself to believe that Damon would go so far as to poison me—at least not without reason. I had been a devoted wife, never questioning him, never causing trouble. I knew my place and molded myself into the woman he wanted me to be. There was no reason for him to do something so cruel… was there?

Julian’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Do you know the name of the medication?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Do you have a photo of it?”

“No.”

His brows furrowed and I noticed frustration rising in his tone. “Do you at least remember the brand?”

I hesitated before answering. “It came in a plain container.”

Julian’s expression changed instantly.

His posture stiffened as he studied me, completely losing it. “What do you mean by a plain container?”

I swallowed hard. “It was just… white. No label, no name.”

For the first time since he entered the room, his mask slipped. His gaze darkened, something dangerously close to anger flashing through his eyes.

“You’re saying you’ve been taking an unlabeled medication for a year?” He almost yelled but maintained composure.

I flinched and for the first time felt like a fool.

“I trusted my husband,” I said quietly, trying not to agree that Damon did that to me.

“He wouldn’t harm me,” I confidently spoke out.

Julian didn’t respond right away. His grip on the clipboard tightened, his knuckles whitening as he stared at me—first in shock, then something much worse.

Something about the way he looked at me made my chest tighten. I had only ever seen that look in his eyes when something deeply unsettled him… when he was genuinely concerned.

The silence between us was heavier this time, charged with an emotion I couldn’t quite place.

Then, without another word, he turned away.

“Meet with your husband,” he said, his voice controlled yet cold. “Find out exactly what he was giving you.”

I stiffened. “You want me to—”

“Demand answers,” he interrupted. “And when you get them, contact me before we move forward.”

He stood up, already turning toward the door.

A lump formed in my throat. “Wait…”

He didn’t turn around.

The door opened, and he stepped out, leaving me alone with nothing but the deafening sound of my own heartbeat and confusion.