Chapter 131 The Call
Victoria: POV
I tried to peel off the ruined Chanel with one hand, but the zipper was in the back and I couldn't reach it. After three agonizing attempts, I gave up and just left it on, bloodstains and all.
My broken hand needed medical attention. The fingers were bent at unnatural angles, the swelling so severe the skin looked ready to split. But going to a hospital meant questions. Meant police reports and explanations I couldn't give.
I grabbed my phone with my left hand and scrolled through my contacts until I found Dr. Harrison. My personal physician. The one who'd been prescribing me Xanax and Prozac for the past month.
He answered on the third ring, his voice thick with sleep.
"Victoria? It's nearly midnight. Is everything—"
"I need you to come to my apartment." My voice was flat. Dead. "I've been injured. I need... I need help."
"What kind of injury? Should I call an ambulance?"
"No ambulance. No police. Just you. Please."
A pause. Then: "I'll be there in twenty minutes."
---
He arrived in fifteen, black medical bag in hand, his face tight with concern. I let him in without a word and led him to the bathroom, where the overhead lights made everything look even worse.
"Jesus Christ, Victoria." He grabbed my hand gently, examining the damage. "What happened?"
"I fell."
"You fell." His tone made it clear he didn't believe me. "And broke four fingers, scraped both palms, and bruised your ribs in the process?"
I looked away. "I was wearing heels. It was dark."
"Where? Where were you that this happened?"
"Does it matter?"
He sighed and opened his bag. "I'm going to need to set these fingers. It's going to hurt. A lot. I can give you something for the pain, but—"
"No." I shook my head. "No drugs. I need to stay alert."
"Victoria, with injuries this severe, the pain will be—"
"I said no drugs." My voice came out harsh. Desperate. "I need to stay awake. I need to... I can't let my guard down."
He studied my face for a long moment, taking in the paranoia written across my features, then nodded slowly. "This is going to be excruciating."
It was.
He set each finger methodically, the bones grinding back into place with sickening cracks that made me see stars. I bit down on a towel to keep from screaming, tears streaming down my face, my whole body shaking.
When he was finally done, my hand was splinted and wrapped, the fingers immobilized in a grotesque claw.
"You need to see a specialist," Dr. Harrison said, packing up his supplies. "This is just temporary. You'll need surgery to repair the damage properly. There's significant ligament trauma, and I suspect some of the smaller bones in your palm are fractured as well."
"I know."
"And Victoria?" He hesitated at the door. "Whatever you're involved in... whatever's happening... you need to be careful. This wasn't an accident. Someone did this to you deliberately."
I didn't respond. Just closed the door behind him and locked it. Then locked the deadbolt. Then engaged the chain.
Someone did this to me. Catherine did this to me.
I walked back to the bathroom and stared at my reflection. Pale. Hollow. Broken.
My phone buzzed.
Not an unknown number this time.
Catherine's name lit up the screen.
My heart stopped.
I stared at it, watching it ring. Once. Twice. Three times.
What does she want now? What more could she possibly—
I answered before I could think better of it.
"What?"
"Oh, Victoria." Catherine's voice was silk and poison. "You sound terrible. How's the hand?"
"What do you want?"
"To give you some friendly advice." I could hear the smile in her voice. "You might want to start looking for a good lawyer."
My blood turned to ice. "What are you talking about?"
"Julian knows, darling. About the rooftop. About the gunmen. About everything."
The phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering to the bathroom floor. I scrambled to pick it up, my broken hand screaming in protest.
"You're lying."
"Am I?" Catherine's laugh was musical. Delighted. "Adrian's quite good at his job, you know. All those cryptocurrency transactions you thought were so clever? He traced every single one. Right back to your little shell companies."
"That's impossible. I covered my tracks—"
"You covered nothing." Her voice turned sharp. "You're not half as smart as you think you are, Victoria. You never were."
I sank onto the edge of the bathtub, my legs suddenly unable to support me.
"Julian doesn't know yet," Catherine continued conversationally. "Adrian just finished his report an hour ago. But he will know. Very soon. I imagine he'll be calling you tomorrow. Or maybe tonight, if Adrian decides to wake him up with the good news."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I want you to suffer." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I want you to lie awake all night, wondering when that phone will ring. Wondering what Julian will say when he finds out his precious childhood friend tried to murder his wife and unborn child."
My vision blurred. The bathroom walls seemed to be closing in.
"You destroyed my life," I whispered.
"No, darling. You destroyed your own life. I just... helped it along."
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone in my shaking hand, Catherine's words echoing in my head.
Julian knows. Julian knows. Julian knows.
I stumbled to my bedroom and collapsed on the bed, still wearing the bloodstained dress. My broken hand throbbed with every heartbeat, but it was nothing compared to the terror clawing at my chest.
When will he call? What will he say? Will he have me arrested? Will he—
My phone buzzed.
I nearly threw it across the room.
Unknown number.
I stared at it, paralyzed. Was it Julian? The police? Catherine calling from a different phone to torment me more?
It stopped ringing.
Then started again.
Different number this time.
I turned the phone face down and pressed a pillow over my head, but I could still hear it buzzing against the nightstand. Again and again and again.
This is what she wanted. This is her plan. Drive me insane with fear before Julian even—
The house phone rang.
I'd forgotten I even had a landline. It was connected to the building's front desk, used only for deliveries and emergencies.
It rang six times before falling silent.
Then my cell phone started again.
I grabbed it, desperate to make the noise stop, and saw Julian's name on the screen.
My heart stopped completely.
This was it. This was the call Catherine had promised.
I stared at his name, my finger hovering over the answer button. Part of me wanted to ignore it, to pretend this wasn't happening, to crawl under the covers and disappear.
But I couldn't. Not forever.
The ringing stopped.
Thirty seconds later, a text appeared:
[We need to talk. Tomorrow. 9 AM. My office. Don't even think about running.]
I dropped the phone like it had burned me.
He knows. He knows everything.
I curled up on the bed, clutching my broken hand to my chest, and waited for dawn. Every shadow looked like a threat. Every sound from the hallway made me flinch. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Catherine's smile, heard her voice promising that this was only the beginning.
What will Julian do to me? What will he—