I spent the entire morning decorating our mansion with white roses—Aiden's favorite. Three years of marriage, and I still remembered the little things that made his eyes light up.

"Mrs. Prescott, would you like me to help with the candles?" Elena, our housekeeper, stood in the doorway, her kind eyes watching me with something like concern.

"No thank you, Elena. I want to do everything myself." I smiled, placing another framed photo on the mantelpiece. "It's his birthday. I want it to be special."

My husband worked hard and rarely took time to celebrate anything, even his own birthday. Tonight would be different.

"The chef will arrive at five, Mrs. Prescott," Elena reminded me as I checked my watch. "And the cake is already in the refrigerator."

"Perfect." I beamed at her. "I just need to pick up his gift, and then everything will be ready."

The jewelry store was my last stop. As the jeweler handed me the elegantly wrapped package, I felt a flutter of excitement.

"He's a lucky man, Mrs. Prescott," the jeweler said with a warm smile.

"I'm the lucky one," I replied automatically, believing it with my whole heart.

But until Nine o'clock. The house grew quiet as Elena reluctantly left for the night. I sat alone at the dining table, the untouched place settings mocking my efforts. The roses seemed less vibrant now, their perfume cloying in the silent house.

Something cold and heavy settled in my stomach—a feeling I'd been fighting all evening. This wasn't like Aiden. Even on his busiest days, he at least called.

Unless...

I pushed the thought away. No. He wouldn't forget. Not completely. There had to be an explanation.

The drive to Prescott Enterprises took twenty minutes. The imposing glass building stood illuminated against the night sky, a testament to Aiden's success.

The security guard recognized me immediately. "Mrs. Prescott! Working late tonight?"

"Just surprising my husband," I replied, forcing a smile. "Is he still here?"

"Yes, ma'am. His car's in the executive garage."

Relief washed over me. At least I knew where he was now. As I rode the elevator to the top floor, I rehearsed what I would say. I wouldn't be angry or accusatory. I would understand. I always understood.

The executive floor was eerily quiet, most offices dark except for the soft glow coming from the end of the hallway—Aiden's private suite.

I was about to knock when I heard voices. Aiden wasn't alone.

"We can't keep doing this, Lucia," Aiden's voice, low and intimate in a way I'd rarely heard it lately.

Lucia. My sister. And my husband Aiden.

What’s that?

My hand froze inches from the door. I shouldn't eavesdrop. I should announce myself, pretend I hadn't heard anything. But something in his tone—something raw and desperate—kept me rooted to the spot.

"We don't have a choice anymore," Lucia's voice replied, fragile yet determined. "The doctors say I have months, maybe a year. Without a new heart..."

"I know, I know." Aiden's voice cracked with emotion. "I can't lose you. I won't."

I peered through the glass panel of the door, my breath caught in my throat. They stood by the window, Aiden's arms wrapped around my sister's waist, her head resting against his chest. The intimacy of their embrace was unmistakable.

"There's a way," Aiden said, his voice hardening with resolve. "Sophia's a perfect match. Same blood type, same tissue markers. The tests confirmed it."

"Aiden, no." Lucia pulled back slightly, but not entirely away. "She's my sister."

"And you're the love of my life." His words pierced my heart like shards of ice. "I married her because I had to, but it's always been you. It's only ever been you."

The cake slipped from my suddenly numb fingers, landing with a soft thud on the carpet. Neither of them heard.

"How would we even..." Lucia's voice dropped so low I had to strain to hear.

"I've been adding small doses to her food," Aiden replied, his tone clinical now. "Untraceable compounds that mimic heart failure. When she collapses, it will look natural. With your condition and your relation, you'll be the obvious recipient."

The world tilted beneath my feet. My husband and my sister, plotting my death. My heart—literally my heart—to be cut from my body and given to Lucia.

"Her heart for yours," Aiden whispered, pressing his lips to my sister's forehead. "A sacrifice I'm willing to make. For us."

I backed away from the door. The truth crashed over me in waves—every unexplained illness I'd experienced recently, every time Aiden had insisted on preparing my tea, every concerned glance from Elena.

He was poisoning me. Slowly killing me. And my sister was letting him do it.

They wanted my heart?

My husband wants to kill me.

I fled from Prescott Enterprises like a woman possessed, the gift box still clutched against my chest. My lungs burned as I gasped for air, tears blurring my vision as I stumbled toward my car. Once inside, I locked the doors and collapsed against the steering wheel, my entire body shaking.

"My husband wants to kill me."

The words echoed in my mind, too monstrous to fully comprehend. I pressed my palm against my chest, feeling the steady rhythm of my heart—my perfectly healthy heart that Aiden planned to cut out of my body and give to my sister.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up from my throat. All those unexplained dizzy spells, the fatigue, the occasional heart palpitations I'd been experiencing... not symptoms of stress as Aiden had suggested, but evidence of his methodical poisoning.

"Untraceable compounds that mimic heart failure," he had said so clinically, as if discussing a business strategy rather than my murder.

I started the car with trembling hands, needing to put distance between myself and that building, between myself and the two people who had betrayed me most completely. As I drove, fragments of memories flashed through my mind—Aiden insisting on making my morning tea, Lucia's concerned questions about my health, the way they'd exchange glances when they thought I wasn't looking.

How long had this been going on? How long had they been lovers? How long had they been planning my death?

I pulled over abruptly, bile rising in my throat. Leaning out of the car door, I retched onto the pavement, my body trying to purge itself of poisons both literal and metaphorical.

When the spasm passed, I straightened up and wiped my mouth. I reached for my phone and dialed Elena's number with newfound steadiness.

"Mrs. Prescott?" Her voice was tinged with concern.

"Elena, I need you to meet me at my parents' estate tonight. It's urgent." My voice sounded foreign to my own ears—harder, more commanding.

"Of course, but is everything—"

"Just be there," I cut her off. "And Elena? Don't tell anyone. Especially not my husband."

I ended the call before she could ask questions I wasn't ready to answer. Then I pointed my car toward the Sterling family estate, where I'd grown up in the shadow of Lucia's illness, where I'd learned to be the perfect, supportive sister to a girl everyone believed might die at any moment.

How ironic that after all these years of protecting her, she was now the one orchestrating my demise.

The Sterling estate loomed ahead, its elegant facade bathed in the soft glow of twilight. I composed myself as I approached, wiping away tears and pinching color back into my cheeks. No one could know what I'd discovered—not yet. Not until I had a plan.

My mother, Margaret, greeted me at the door, her perfectly coiffed silver hair and impeccable posture a testament to decades of maintaining appearances.

"Sophia, darling! What a lovely surprise." She embraced me, her signature perfume enveloping me in memories of childhood. "Is Aiden with you?"

"No, he's working late." The lie slipped easily from my lips. "I thought I'd come see you and Daddy. And Lucia, is she here?"

"In the sunroom, having her afternoon tea." Mother linked her arm through mine. "She's having one of her better days, thank goodness. The new medication seems to be helping."

I forced a smile that felt like glass cutting into my cheeks. "Wonderful."

The sunroom was awash in golden light, illuminating Lucia as she sat delicately on a wicker chair, a fine china teacup balanced in her slender fingers. She looked up as we entered, her face brightening with a smile that now seemed venomous to me.

"Sophia! What a wonderful surprise." She set down her cup and rose to embrace me.

I hugged her back mechanically, noting the frailty of her frame, the slight bluish tinge to her lips that betrayed her heart condition. As we pulled apart, I noticed the discreet medical monitor strapped beneath the sleeve of her cardigan—a constant reminder of her mortality that had shaped our family's entire dynamic.

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by." I settled into a chair across from her, accepting the tea my mother poured. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, you know, the usual ups and downs." Lucia waved a dismissive hand, though her eyes held a shadow I'd never fully recognized before. "Dr. Vale says I'm stable for now."

We fell into the familiar rhythm of small talk—discussions about charity events, mutual acquaintances, Mother's garden. I played my part perfectly, laughing at the right moments, asking appropriate questions, all while a storm raged inside me.

When the doorbell rang, Mother excused herself to answer it. The moment she left, a text message illuminated Lucia's phone on the table. I caught a glimpse of Aiden's name before she snatched it up, her fingers flying across the screen.

"Aiden checking in?" I asked innocently, watching her face for any sign of guilt.

"Just work stuff." Lucia slipped the phone into her pocket, but not before I noticed the slight tremble in her hand. "He's helping with some investments for my foundation."

"How thoughtful of him." I sipped my tea, wondering if it contained the same poisons Aiden had been feeding me. "You two have always been close."

"He's family," she replied, her eyes not quite meeting mine.

The conversation paused as we heard voices in the hallway. Moments later, Mother returned with none other than Aiden himself, his expression shifting from concern to surprise when he saw me.

"Sophia," he said, recovering quickly. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Clearly," I replied, a new edge to my voice that made his eyes narrow slightly.

As he bent to kiss my cheek—a gesture that now made my skin crawl—I caught the look he exchanged with Lucia. Brief, subtle, but unmistakable in its intimacy.

In that moment, watching my husband and sister communicate silently over my head, I made my decision. They had taken everything from me—my marriage, my trust, and soon, they planned to take my life.

"Aiden, darling," I said, my voice honey-sweet as I placed my hand on his arm. "I was just telling Lucia about the charity gala next week. I think I'll need a new dress—something that will catch everyone's eye." I paused, my gaze sliding to my sister. "Something that will make hearts stop."

I needed proof. Not just what I'd overheard, but tangible evidence that would expose their plot. As the family dinner at my parents' estate dragged on, I watched Aiden and Lucia like a hawk, noting every glance, every "accidental" brush of fingers when passing the salt.

My mother droned on about her latest charity function while my father nodded absently, more interested in his bourbon than the conversation. Neither noticed the silent drama unfolding at their own dinner table—their daughters locked in a deadly game, one plotting murder, the other plotting revenge.

"Aiden, darling," I said sweetly, reaching for my phone. "I forgot to show you those designs for the garden renovation." I pulled up my contacts and deliberately called his number.

On cue, his phone rang. He patted his pockets with a practiced frown. "Excuse me, I should take this. Might be the Tokyo office."

Lucia waited exactly forty-seven seconds—I counted—before setting down her napkin. "I need to take my medication," she announced, her voice perfectly calibrated to sound weak but not alarming.

I watched them both leave in different directions, then silently slipped from my chair. "Just going to powder my nose," I murmured to my oblivious parents.

Instead of heading to the bathroom, I followed the sound of hushed voices to the east wing of the mansion. Pressing myself against the wall, I strained to hear their conversation.

"It's happening too slowly," Lucia whispered urgently. "Dr. Vale says my left ventricle is deteriorating faster than expected."

"I can't increase the dosage without raising suspicion," Aiden replied, his voice low and intense. "Elena already watches me like a hawk whenever I'm in the kitchen."

"Then find another way," Lucia hissed. "I don't have time for caution."

I pulled out my phone and pressed record, holding my breath as their voices continued.

"Vale says there's a private clinic in Switzerland that can handle the procedure," Aiden said. "Once Sophia's... gone, we fly there immediately. With your family connections and my money, no one will ask questions."

"And after?"

"After, we wait an appropriate time. I mourn my beloved wife, you recover miraculously with your new heart, and eventually..."

"We can finally be together," Lucia finished, her voice softening with longing.

I'd heard enough. Backing away silently, I composed myself before returning to the dining room. When Aiden and Lucia returned minutes apart, I greeted them with a smile that didn't reach my eyes.

"Everything okay, darling?" I asked Aiden, touching his arm possessively.

"Just work," he replied smoothly, covering my hand with his. The same hand that measured out poison for my tea each morning.

After dinner, I excused myself, claiming a headache. "Don't worry about me," I told Aiden when he made a show of concern. "Stay and catch up with my parents. I'll take a cab home."

Instead of going home, I drove to Vale Medical Center. If Dr. Vale was involved in their scheme, I needed to know exactly what I was facing. The night receptionist recognized me from my charity work with the hospital.

"Mrs. Prescott! What brings you here so late?"

"I was hoping to speak with Dr. Vale about a donation for the cardiac wing," I lied smoothly. "Is he still here?"

"Just missed him, I'm afraid. But Nurse Collins might know when he'll be back—she's handling Ms. Sterling's case preparations."

I found Nurse Collins at the nurses' station, reviewing charts. She looked up with a tired smile when I approached.

"Mrs. Prescott, what a surprise."

"Just checking on my sister's treatment plan," I said casually. "She mentioned something about new developments?"

The nurse glanced around before leaning closer. "We're on standby for an urgent transplant. Dr. Vale has everything prepared—surgical team, anti-rejection protocols, the works. Just waiting for a suitable donor."

I pressed record on my phone in my pocket. "That sounds serious. How urgent are we talking?"

"Between us?" She lowered her voice further. "Without a new heart in the next two months, your sister's chances aren't good. Dr. Vale is prioritizing her case, though. Says he's never seen such a perfect potential match before."

My blood ran cold. "A match has been identified?"

"That's the impression I got. He's been coordinating with Mr. Prescott directly, very hush-hush. I probably shouldn't be saying anything..."

"Of course not," I assured her, my voice steady despite the rage building inside me. "I appreciate your discretion."

Back in my car, I played the recordings, each word confirming what I already knew. My husband and sister weren't just having an affair—they were actively planning my murder, with medical professionals either complicit or unwittingly involved.

I drove home in a daze, my mind racing through possibilities. I could go to the police, but with what proof? Recordings of vague conversations? Hearsay from a nurse? Against the Sterling family name and Aiden's corporate influence, I'd be painted as a paranoid, jealous wife.

No, I needed leverage. I needed to destroy their plan from within. And I knew exactly who could help me do it.

Caleb Whitmore—Lucia's wealthy, neglected husband. The man who'd married my sister in a loveless arrangement, who looked at me with barely concealed desire at every family function.

At home, I went straight to my closet, pushing past the conservative dresses Aiden preferred. At the back, still in its garment bag, hung a black lace gown I'd bought on impulse months ago—dangerously low-cut, with a slit that climbed almost indecently up my thigh. Aiden had deemed it "inappropriate" and insisted I return it. I never did.

Beside it sat a shoebox containing stiletto heels that added four inches to my height and transformed my posture from demure to demanding.

As I held the dress against my body, staring at my reflection in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman looking back at me. Her eyes were harder, calculating. Her lips curved in a smile that promised both pleasure and pain.

If Aiden and Lucia wanted to play with hearts, I would show them how it's really done. Starting with Caleb Whitmore's.

After all, revenge, like seduction, is an art best practiced with precision.

And I was about to become a master of both.