Mia's gloved fingers hovered dangerously close to the monitor's override button—the one that controlled Richard's oxygen support. One press, and the stagnant man lying in bed would die in silence. No alarms. No struggle. Just... gone.
A merciful death for a man who deserved none.
Her chest rose and fell with restraint.
Not yet.
Her eyes glimmered not with guilt, but with a grimace carved from years of fury. Her lips twitched, the corners tightening with every breath she forced herself not to take.
"This isn't the time for you to die, Richard," she whispered, her voice a blade sharpened on hatred. "Not yet. Not until I've finished tearing down everything you built. Not until every person who helped you destroy me is gone."
Her gaze bore into the unconscious man's pale face, a storm brewing behind her composed facade.
