Chapter 4

"It's not a curse—it's a reality."

Elliot, towering over Nathan, drew near, exuding an aura of subdued threat.

Nathan reflexively retreated, his assurance wavering.

"You're here again?" he scoffed, his eyes flicking between Elliot and me, doubt evident in his expression.

"So this is your big secret, eh?" he snarled.

"Always claiming your work's confidential, vanishing for extended periods—turns out you've been cohabiting with him all along."

His tone grew bitter. "How long has this affair been going on? You've likely been intimate for years. And now you're feigning innocence in front of Carol? It's despicable."

Before I could reply, Elliot's fist connected with Nathan's chin. The impact sent him tumbling, clutching his face in disbelief.

Carol, who had been trying to remain inconspicuous, finally dropped her act. She rushed forward with a yelp, kneeling beside Nathan to assist him.

"You can't assault someone in public!" she exclaimed, glowering at Elliot. "Aren't you concerned about legal repercussions?"

I knelt beside her, my voice deceptively light but sharp.

"You should be more worried about your own well-being."

I reached out, brushing her hair aside. A few strands came loose in my hand.

"Your hair is falling out," I stated bluntly, letting the strands fall. "You might want to consult a doctor."

Her face contorted with rage, and she swatted my hand away. "You're delusional. It's just a minor illness! Stop turning everything into a melodrama."

I stood, dusting off my hands. "As you wish."

Carol's animosity no longer affected me. Without another word, I grasped Elliot's arm and led him out of the café, leaving the chaotic scene behind.

Snowflakes were drifting down, the brisk air cooling my lingering irritation.

"I apologize for that," I said, glancing at Elliot. "I didn't intend for you to face such hostility."

Elliot thrust his hands into his coat pockets, matching my pace. "Don't concern yourself."

His voice remained calm and steady. "They're already exhibiting symptoms. Will you feel pity for them?"

I halted, the question lingering in the frosty air.

"Perhaps I would have," I admitted after a moment.

Iridium-192 is hazardous. I had cautioned them repeatedly, but they dismissed my warnings as empty threats, too preoccupied with incriminating me to recognize the danger they'd exposed themselves to.

I looked down at the snow beneath my feet, where pristine flakes mingled with grimy slush. The filth reminded me of them—shameless, self-serving, and beyond salvation.

I stepped forward, leaving the mess behind.

"But now?" I said, my voice icy. "Now, I simply hope they receive their just deserts."

That evening, Carol initiated a live stream on her social media platform.

Her face filled the screen, tears coursing down her cheeks as she wove a compelling tale of victimhood for her viewers.

"I never attempted to steal anyone's partner," she claimed, her voice quavering. "Nathan and I have been acquainted for years. Our relationship predates Claire's arrival in our lives."

She sniffled, smearing her makeup as she leaned towards the camera.

"And Claire? She's the one who stole from herself and tried to pin it on me. Thank heavens for surveillance footage proving my innocence."

Her voice broke as she continued, "She's facing imminent imprisonment. Would you really trust the words of a criminal?"

Carol's tears seemed genuine, and her performance was worthy of acclaim.

Her followers were captivated.

The comments section erupted.

"What? Claire's a criminal?"

"Lies. The unfaithful couple got exposed and now they're attempting to deflect blame."

"Wait a minute... what did Claire accuse her of stealing?"

I sipped my tea, perusing the comments like a casual observer. I copied the last comment and pasted it repeatedly to ensure Carol noticed it.

As the barrage of questions grew, Carol finally addressed the crucial issue.

"She mentioned some... Iridium-192 or something," she said dismissively, gesturing as if it were trivial. "It's just some highbrow scientific term she threw around to intimidate me."

She rolled her eyes, reclining in her chair. "She even tried to claim it was dangerous—potentially lethal. So melodramatic, right?"

But her smug demeanor faltered as she suddenly covered her mouth, retching uncontrollably.

Amidst the flood of comments, someone finally made the connection.

"Hold on... iridium-192? Are you serious? That substance is lethal!"

"Can someone explain? I'm unfamiliar with it."

"You don't need to know the specifics. Just understand this: exposure to that material for even two hours can cause radiation poisoning. And believe me, it's a horrific way to die."

The comment section exploded, the chat scrolling at a dizzying pace.

And then, during the live stream, it happened.

Carol's eyes suddenly rolled back, and her body went rigid. Without uttering a word, she collapsed, hitting the floor with a disturbing thud.