Chapter 12

"Twenty-three-year-old gold digger Astrid Bennett was left speechless and absolutely dumbfounded as the public saw through her modest act and turned against her."

Chloe's voice dripped with sarcasm as she read aloud from the latest tabloid, waving the newspaper for me and Mom to see.

We were sitting on the balcony of my bedroom, having breakfast under the soft morning sun. A gentle breeze rustled the curtains behind us, but it did nothing to soothe my frustration.

This was the seventh one. Seventh!

Since that awful press conference two days ago, the tabloids had been relentless. Every single one painted me as a manipulative, undeserving fraud who had somehow tricked Mr. Caldwell into leaving me his entire fortune.

Chloe was determined to find at least one decent article, flipping through each paper with increasing irritation.

"Maybe this one will be different," she muttered, grabbing another tabloid. Her eyes scanned the page before she let out an exaggerated gasp. "Oh wow, this one's a real gem—'The new billionaire heiress is not only undeserving but also an illiterate.'"

She tossed the paper onto the table, nearly knocking over a glass of orange juice. "How unbelievable are these assholes?"

I stayed silent, staring at my untouched croissant.

"Look, Astrid, these people are just jealous. You shouldn't even think about them."

"Are they wrong, though?" I snapped, suddenly standing up. My chair scraped loudly against the marble floor. "I mean… I'm not deserving of all this."

"Most times in life, we get more than we deserve, and that's just fine," Mom said gently. She looked so much better now—her cheeks fuller, her skin brighter. Her surgery was scheduled for next month, and that was the only silver lining in all of this.

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. "I know, Mom. I do. But this… it's just too much. It's insane. I don't know how to handle it."

Mom reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Then let's take a break. A vacation. We could go somewhere peaceful until things calm down."

"A vacation?" I let out a humorless laugh. "Mom, can you imagine what people would say? 'Oh, look at her, running away to spend her dead employer's money while his family suffers.'"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Astrid, you're a billionaire. Who the hell cares what people think? Your bank account is all that matters." She popped a cherry into her mouth, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction. "So let's go enjoy some of that money."

I couldn't help but smile, shaking my head. "Fine. Where should we go, then?"

"I have plenty of ideas," Chloe said, leaning forward excitedly. "We could go to Paris. I've always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. Or maybe the Maldives! Just imagine—turquoise water, private villas, cocktails by the beach."

"Dubai or Germany," Mom chimed in, her eyes lighting up. "I've always wanted to see the castles there."

I smiled at their enthusiasm, but just as I opened my mouth to respond, a sharp pain shot through my stomach.

It wasn't normal pain.

It was searing, like fire spreading through my veins, burning through my entire body in an instant.

A gasp tore from my lips as I instinctively clutched my stomach, my fingers digging into the fabric of my dress.

"Astrid?" Chloe's voice was no longer playful. It was sharp, worried. "What's wrong?"

Mom was already reaching for me, her hands trembling. "Sweetheart, are you alright?"

I tried to answer, but the pain was getting worse—intensifying. It felt like something was clawing its way through my insides, tearing me apart from the inside out.

My vision blurred. My ears rang.

I opened my mouth to tell them I was fine, that maybe it was just something I ate, but instead of words—

Blood.

A thick, warm stream of blood spilled from my lips, staining my hands, the table, the pristine white tablecloth.

Chloe screamed.

I barely registered the sound before the world tilted violently. The pain was unbearable, my body no longer my own.

I collapsed.

The last thing I heard was Chloe's frantic screams, her voice sharp with panic, calling for help.

Then—

The door crashed open.

Footsteps pounded against the floor, and a deep, urgent voice cut through the chaos.

"Astrid!"

Cole.

His voice was the last thing I heard before the darkness swallowed me whole.

*****

A steady beeping pulled me out of the darkness.

I blinked, my vision swimming, the world around me blurry and too bright. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled my nose. The ceiling was unfamiliar—white, sterile. A dull ache throbbed in my body, but the worst of the pain was gone.

I was alive.

I tried to sit up, but a deep exhaustion pinned me down. My limbs felt heavy, my throat raw. I swallowed, wincing. My fingers trembled as I reached for the IV in my arm.

"You're awake."

Chloe's voice.

I turned my head sluggishly to find her sitting beside me, dark circles under her eyes, her makeup smudged. She looked like she hadn't slept in days.

"Where—?" My voice was barely a whisper.

"The hospital," Chloe answered quickly, leaning forward. "You passed out, Astrid. You—" She sucked in a sharp breath, her voice breaking.

I frowned. "What happened?"

Mom was beside me now too, holding my hand tightly. Her eyes were red, like she'd been crying.

"Astrid," she said softly, stroking my hair. "Someone poisoned you."

I froze.

My heartbeat slammed against my ribs.

"What?" The word barely left my lips.

"The doctors found traces of a powerful toxin in your system," Chloe said, her voice shaking. "They said it was meant to kill you."

I couldn't breathe.

My mind reeled, flashes of that moment on the balcony—the burning pain, the blood spilling from my mouth—came rushing back.

Someone had tried to murder me!?