Fernando turned the jar in his hand and noticed the plastic wrap sealed carefully.
This wasn’t food.
This was evidence.
His stomach lurched.
Elena’s voice came out thin as thread.
“She… she told me it was to help me sleep,” Elena whispered. “If I didn’t finish it, she’d…”
The sentence broke, swallowed by memory.
Immani softened her tone.
“You don’t have to say the rest,” Immani murmured. “We already know it was wrong.”
Fernando raised his phone and hit record, because some part of him knew this moment would try to slip away if he didn’t capture it.
“Viven Clark,” he said, voice low and deadly. “You will not go near her again. You will not touch anything in this house.”
Viven laughed, but it cracked at the edges. “You’re making a scene.”
“No,” Immani said, stepping forward, calm and unmovable. “She did. You’re just finally seeing it.”
Fernando dialed.
“Police,” he said into the phone, voice shaking. “Ambulance. Tonight. Test my daughter. Test this powder. Test everything.”
Viven’s eyes flashed panic, then fury.
Plans only work in the dark.
And the lights had just come on.
Elena clutched Immani’s hand, trembling.
“Dad,” she breathed, fear and hope tangled. “Please don’t let her talk you out of it.”