He made a phone call. When he returned, he asked me a question I never expected.
“Did you ever sign an organ donation agreement?”
My chest tightened as my mind raced back.
And then I remembered–yes, I had.
It was back in college. I’d seen an organ donation agreement on an app and thought it was a noble gesture. If I ever died unexpectedly, my organs could save someone’s life. I signed without a second thought.
But I never imagined someone might target me while I was still alive.
1/2
Chapter 7
+25 BONUS
“Is this… because of that?” My voice trembled.
“Very likely,” he replied grimly. “The other victim in your complex had also signed a similar agreement. And she had recently undergone a check–up at the same hospital.”
The weight of his words pressed down on me. I felt a chill creep into my bones, like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings had stirred a hurricane that would haunt me forever
That woman’s final words–that they would be coming for me–hadn’t been idle threats.
“The woman who called you might’ve been a nurse at that Hospital,” he continued. “Or she might’ve been the one who marked your report.”
He handed me a photo.
“Have you seen her before?”
I shook my head. The face staring back at me was unremarkable, almost innocent–nothing like the sinister image I had conjured in my mind.
But I knew, deep down, that she was just one cog in a much larger machine. Even Wayne, the former security guard, was likely another expendable piece of the puzzle.
Whoever was behind this had access to everything–my signed agreement, my health records, even my address. They had the means to bribe security guards and the patience to track someone living alone.
That person was close.
Could it be a coworker?
When I joined the company, I had filled out my home address for the HR forms. The health report would have been accessible, too.
I looked up sharply, my gaze landing on Lloyd.
He noticed my stare and met it with a look of mild confusion. Silently, he mouthed, “What’s wrong?”
His expression was open, curious, not at all the demeanor of someone with something to hide. If it were him, would he have pointed out the mark in the first place?
My eyes scanned the office, taking in the faces of colleagues I had worked alongside for six months. My stomach churned.
Could one of them be the killer?
The middle–aged officer packed up his recorder, breaking my spiral of thoughts.
“Stay vigilant,” he said. “They’ll come back for you.“,
