Virginia fixed her gaze on Steven's still, peaceful face. Dr. Drew had administered the injection moments ago, and the drug's grip still lingered. Steven's body remained rigid, as if frozen in time. Her thoughts swirled with unease, but her face betrayed nothing. Her sharp eyes lingered on Steven's expression, her scrutiny deliberate and slow. Before making her move, she had sought answers from Silas. She had questioned him about the drug's potential failures or side effects. He had dismissed her concerns outright. His confidence had been unshakable, his words resolute. The drug worked flawlessly, he had claimed. Once it entered the bloodstream, there would be no escape. The victim would inevitably become little more than a shell. Virginia's expression stayed cold and detached. She knew the storm of pain building inside Steven was on the brink of breaking loose. Even if Mack intervened to stabilize him, the agony wouldn't hide. It would strike relentlessly. It was creeping closer, carried by the slowing rhythm of his pulse, each beat dragging the pain nearer to its mark. And at the end of it all ... there would be death. Her role now was to bring that ending swiftly. By doing so, she could sidestep the exhausting search for the Su family's mysterious antidote. The promise she had made, under pressure, would become irrelevant. And the path to marrying into the Johnstons would be cleared of any obstacles. Once Steven was gone, she planned to sever herself entirely from the act. A panicked call to Lance, feigning shock at Steven's demise, would suffice to set the stage. Everything would fall into place. With her resolve firm, Virginia raised her eyes, scanning the sterile walls of the room. This was the Johnstons' private hospital suite. For reasons of confidentiality, no cameras were installed within its walls. The absence of surveillance steadied her nerves. She inhaled deeply and approached Steven's bedside. Her focus shifted from his face to the oxygen mask fixed over his nose and mouth. She slipped on a pair of gloves, her movements steady and unhurried. Her hand, now gloved, reached for the mask.Her fingers met its cool, fogged surface. The cold bit into her skin through the latex, a stark reminder of what lay ahead. Yet her mind stayed eerily quiet, unaffected by the weight of her actions. Her face remained impassive. She did not blink as she removed the mask with calculated precision. Her eyes, once warm and lively, now revealed an unsettling hardness. It was a look that did not belong on someone her age—a chilling blend of detachment and cruelty. It was done. Virginia's lips curved into a slight smile. But then, the silence shattered. A loud crash pierced the room. The door flew open. Virginia froze in place, her body rigid, her pupils narrowing sharply. The door had opened too quickly, with no warning at all. Her hand, still holding the oxygen mask, remained suspended midair. What was this? Who had the audacity to burst in unannounced? Footsteps echoed through the corridor. No, it can't be. Mack couldn't have returned this quickly, could he? Virginia's thoughts stopped cold. The oxygen mask remained in her hand. There was no hiding it now, not even the slightest chance. Her body froze like a statue, rigid and unmoving. She didn't dare look back. Then a voice broke the silence, but it wasn't the one she feared. "Ms. Dolton ... " "Silas?" The tension in Virginia's shoulders eased as she turned toward the familiar voice. Relief swept over her, steadying her nerves. Silas stood in the doorway, his expression shifting the moment he took in the scene. His eyes darted from Virginia to Steven, landing on the absent oxygen mask. She's going to kill him. The thought hit Silas like a punch to the gut. His stomach turned, and a chill ran through him. Without hesitation, he stumbled forward, nearly tripping as he rushed to her side. He grabbed the mask from her hand and fumbled to place it back over Steven's face."What on earth do you think you're doing, Silas?" Virginia's voice sliced through the air. Her eyes narrowed, her irritation clear. "Ms. Dolton, this is madness. You can't do this." Silas's fingers shook as he worked to secure the mask. Twice he placed it wrong, and twice he had to fix it. His hands fumbled, sweat gathering on his brow as he finally managed to settle the mask in place. Virginia watched him, her expression turning cold. "Are you seriously trying to tell me how to handle this?" She stepped closer, her hand reaching to take the mask again. "Please, Ms. Dolton!" Silas's voice cracked, and his eyes pleaded with her. "This is murder. We can't cross that line." Virginia raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. "Murder?" Silas tightened his grip on the mask as though it were a lifeline. His hands trembled, but he refused to let go. "Yes. Murder. You'll go to prison for this!" Virginia laughed—a short, sharp sound that sent a shiver down Silas's spine. "Prison?" she said, her tone mocking. "Now you're worried about that? Tell me, Silas, what about the drug you gave me? The one that turned Steven into this ... shell of a man. Was that not a crime? Shall we discuss how long that might land you in prison?" Her voice grew quieter, almost thoughtful. "Three years? Five? Maybe a life sentence. Or do you think it's the kind of thing they'd reserve the death penalty for?" Silas stared at her, his mouth opening and closing without a sound. Virginia leaned in, her voice soft but unyielding. "You've already crossed the line, Silas. There's no going back now. You know that." Her words hung in the air like a verdict. "We've made our move. Regret won't undo it. All we can do now is finish what we started." Silas's hands shook so badly that the mask almost slipped. His lips trembled, but no words came. The weight of her logic pressed down on him, choking any argument he might have mustered. "No, that's not true. We can still undo this," Silas said, his voice breaking under the weight of realization. He was finally grasping how dire the situation had become. The nearness of death, so real and inescapable, was like a cold hand gripping his throat. Virginia's expression didn't change. Her eyes locked onto him with a steadiness that left no room for argument. "Don't fool yourself. We're tied together. If I fall, you fall. If I walk free, you'll be fine. It's as simple as that." Silas stood frozen. His jaw tightened, his lips forming a thin, pale line. "You should move aside now," Virginia said, her tone level, almost indifferent. The statement was clear, and Silas wasn't a fool. He understood the implications. Virginia was sure he would make the smart choice. Yet his feet stayed firmly planted, as though glued to the floor. His face was calm, but his silence spoke volumes. Virginia studied him, the stiffness of his stance, the way his white lab coat seemed to amplify his stubbornness. It was infuriating. Her brow lifted slightly, a faint sign of amusement—or perhaps irritation. Then her lips curved into a small smile, cold and calculated. The kind that sent shivers down your spine because it carried no warmth. Guess I was wrong. "So, you're not moving?" Her voice remained steady, but her eyes betrayed her growing impatience. "This is murder," Silas muttered under his breath. The words felt heavier when spoken aloud. Virginia's fingers flexed at her sides. Years of suppressing her temper had left her skilled at restraint, but that patience was nearing its end. Maybe it was Lance's influence, or maybe this was just who she really was. Whatever the case, the irritation simmered just beneath her composed surface. She took a step forward but stopped as a thought struck her. It was like a light flickering on in a dark room—a solution she hadn't seen before. Her demeanor shifted instantly. Lifting her hand, she gestured in front of him. "Take a closer look at this." Silas blinked, his brows knitting together. "What?" "You weren't wearing gloves when you grabbed the mask, were you?" Her voice was calm, but her question landed like a blow. His confusion deepened. "Shall we check it for your fingerprints?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. The impact was immediate. Silas's body tensed, his face draining of color. He hadn't thought about gloves in the chaos of the moment. He'd acted instinctively, with no time to consider the consequences. "And Steven—his condition," Virginia continued, her tone taking on a sharper edge. "That's your work, isn't it? You're the one who did this. My hands are clean." A chill coursed through Silas. He couldn't speak, his throat dry and his mind racing. "What do you mean by that?" he finally managed to ask, his voice barely audible. Virginia stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. "If you keep standing in my way, what choice do I have? I'll have to let them know everything. About you."