They walked towards the shadowed corner near the glass doors, completely out of sight from anyone walking down the hall.

​Alexander was practically vibrating with a mix of fury and nerves, his knuckles white as he squeezed his suit jacket.

Beside him, the guard stood like a solid stone wall, while Samuel calmly tucked his tablet into his jacket pocket, his professional posture undisturbed.

​For a couple of tense minutes, the hallway remained dead silent. The only sound was the distant, muffled hum of the building’s ventilation system and Alexander’s constant tapping feet.

April could understand he was anxious but his feet tapping wasn’t making things better for the rest of them.

Well, she let him be.

​Then, the heavy doors at the far end of the corridor swung open. Dr. Evans came walking down the hallway, trying hard to maintain his usual dignified stride, but his steps were visibly rushed.

His eyes were glued to his smartphone screen, which was flashing with the automated alert Samuel had triggered.

Because of that, he didn’t bother to look around and thus, he didn’t notice them in the quiet hallway. He swiped his badge over the suite’s biometric reader, the lock clicking open, and quickly stepped inside.

​"Let’s move," April whispered, gesturing toward the doors.

​They walked out of the shadows and stepped up to the glass panels. Looking through the clear viewing pane, they watched the scene play out.

​Dr. Evans didn’t rush into anything and instead walked straight to the old chairman’s bedside, pulling his stethoscope from around his neck.

He wiped his brow with the back of his hand—he was sweating profusely—and placed the stethoscope against the old man’s chest.

​He stood there for a moment, listening intently, then glanced up at the bedside monitors. The display on the wall showed the usual flat, comatose readings, but the alert on his personal phone was a direct feed from the mainframe.

​"The monitor definitely said he was waking up soon... his brainwaves had changed too," the doctor muttered to himself, his voice tight and trembling with panic. He ran a frantic hand through his hair, looking down at the fragile old man. "But I can’t afford to let him wake up. I won’t get paid then."

​Realizing he couldn’t risk any variables, the doctor’s face hardened.

He turned away from the bed and walked over to the automated medical supply cabinet in the corner. He punched in his bypass code, his fingers slapping the keypad with sloppy speed.

The glass door clicked open, and he snatched a small, unmarked glass vial and a pre-packaged syringe. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

​Alexander’s breath hitched in his throat, a low, murderous growl gathering in his chest. Seeing the physical proof of the betrayal right in front of him made his hot temper flare to a dangerous peak but he did not jump in right away. He remained calm, until the moment was right.

​Inside the room, the doctor tore the packaging open, jammed the needle into the vial, and rapidly drew the clear liquid into the syringe. He turned back toward the bed, raising the syringe to flick away a tiny air bubble.

​"Go on," April said quietly, giving Alexander a slight nudge. "That’s enough proof we need so go wrap this up. I have things to do."

​Alexander didn’t wait another second. He kicked the heavy glass suite doors open with a loud BANG. The door slammed violently against the inner walls.

​"Evans!" Alexander roared, his voice booming through the room as he stormed inside, the hefty bodyguard charging in right behind him.

​Dr. Evans jumped nearly a foot in the air, his face instantly draining of all color. His hand shook violently, and the syringe slipped from his fingers, clattering loudly against the tile floor but it didn’t break.

He scrambled backward, his back hitting the medical cabinet as he stared at the furious blonde heir in absolute terror.

​"A-Alexander?!" the doctor stammered, sweat dripping down his forehead as he tried to block the dropped syringe with his shoe. "What are you doing here? This is a restricted intensive care unit! Your grandfather is having a critical episode, I—"

​"Shut up!" Alexander shouted, his blue eyes burning with rage as he pointed directly at the floor. "Pick up the syringe, Marcus."

​The hefty guard stepped forward instantly. He didn’t even need to use force; he simply leaned down, scooped up the syringe, and placed it securely into a plastic evidence bag he pulled from his pocket.

​Dr. Evans collapsed to his knees, his entire body shaking as he realized he had been caught red-handed. "Alexander, please... listen to me... your uncle, he forced me—"

​"Grab him," Alexander commanded the guard, his voice dropping into a dangerously cold, low tone. He was deaf to everything the Doctor planned to say. "Lock him in the security office downstairs. If a single word of this leaves this floor before tomorrow’s board meeting, I’ll make sure you regret it."

​The guard grabbed the doctor by his collar and dragged him out of the room, leaving the suite in a heavy silence.

​Alexander stood by the bed, staring down at his fragile grandfather, his chest heaving as the adrenaline slowly began to recede.

He had a look of disappointment. Disappointed in himself that he didn’t know something like this had been going on this whole time. Disappointed that he was played like a fool by his uncle. And disappointed that despite being the heir, he needed a seer to help him fix his problem.

He took in a long, ragged breath, then slowly turned around to face April, who was casually leaning against the doorframe with her hands in her blazer pockets.

​He looked at her, his disappointed scowl replaced with a profound sense of awe. Her prediction... was accurate.

It had been the previous night about his uncle’s plot, now, it was true that his grandfather was getting poisoned. She had also just flawlessly set a trap that exposed a five-year family conspiracy in minutes.

There was no need to doubt the fact that his uncle would call him now. And once he did... he planned to silence him for good over dinner.

He gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into his palm as he clenched his fist.

He has been playing around on the board of his uncle’s scheme this whole time. Pathetic.

Alexander reached into his pocket, pulling out his leather checkbook. He rapidly wrote out another sum, tore the slip of paper from the spine, and walked over to her, holding it out.

​"An extra thirty million," Alexander said, his voice rough as his blue eyes locked onto hers. "Just like I promised. That makes fifty million in total."

​