Collide Into Ruin

Zoey adjusted the nurse's cap over her dark hair, tucking the last stray strand beneath the crisp white fabric. The hospital smelled like antiseptic and sickness, the fluorescent lights humming faintly overhead. She had always hated hospitals. Too many rules. Too many people watching. But today, it was the perfect hunting ground.

She had already delivered her gift. Left it right at the front desk. The image of Henry opening that box, his face draining of color, sent a twisted thrill through her. But she wasn't done yet. No—she wanted to see him break. To see the devastation on his face when he realized just how much of his life she still owned.

So, she lingered. Watching. Waiting.

The familiar baritone of his voice drifted down the hall, drawing her toward the partially open door. She moved without hesitation, her steps careful but precise, blending in with the other nurses passing by. No one spared her a second glance. That was the beauty of a disguise—people only saw what they expected to see.

She positioned herself just outside the doorway, angling her body to look busy while she listened. Inside, Henry stood beside Emilia's hospital bed, his expression tight as he spoke to the doctor.

"...stable, but she needs rest. No stress."

Zoey's nails bit into her palm. No stress?

Emilia lay there, fragile and weak, yet she still had Henry wrapped around her little finger. It wasn't fair. It was never fair.

Then the words that shattered everything—

"She's pregnant."

Zoey's breath caught, the air vanishing from her lungs. The room around her blurred, her vision narrowing to a pinpoint focus. No. No, that's not— Her heart slammed against her ribs, her pulse roaring in her ears.

A baby. His baby.

A sharp, cold rage coiled in her stomach, spreading through her veins like poison. Henry had gotten Emilia pregnant. He was building a life with her, making something permanent. Something real. And that was supposed to be her future. Hers and Henry's. Not Emilia's. Never Emilia's.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. She had to swallow back the hysterical laugh clawing up her throat. The universe was mocking her. Because she had been pregnant once, too—or at least, she had made Henry think she was.

The memory hit like a gunshot.

Henry's face that night—twisted in disgust, in betrayal—when he had found her in that dimly lit apartment, a needle pressed against her skin. She had barely felt the sting, too high to care, too wrapped up in the rush of euphoria. And then Henry had been there, shoving his ex-best friend back against the wall, screaming at them both.

She had panicked then. The words had spilled out before she could stop them.

I'm pregnant.

It had worked—at first. He had frozen, his anger warring with something else. Doubt. Hesitation. But it hadn't lasted. Because Henry wasn't stupid. [This book is available exclusively and for free on 抖阴社区. If you find it anywhere else, it has been stolen. Please report any unauthorized copies.] And what he didn't know—what he would never know—was that she had been sleeping with his so-called best friend for almost nine months.

She was never pregnant.

And now, Emilia was carrying his child.

Something inside Zoey snapped. Her breaths came too fast, her skin burning hot and ice-cold all at once. This wasn't how the story was supposed to go. Emilia wasn't supposed to win.

Henry was supposed to love her.

Zoey inhaled sharply, forcing herself to regain control. There was still work to do. Her fingers brushed over the ID badge clipped to her stolen uniform, the name Rebecca Langley printed neatly beneath a smiling photo that looked nothing like her. Vincent had come through for her—just like he always did.

Poor, loyal Vincent.

He had always been the protector, the fixer—the one who cleaned up her messes when no one else would. But life had worn him down. Debt. Job after job slipping through his fingers. The weight of trying to keep them both afloat when they were younger, when their parents had been too absent or too cruel to care. She knew his weaknesses as well as he knew hers. And when the time was right, she had used them.

A few carefully placed words. A little guilt, a little pressure. Just enough to make him believe this was different. That this wasn't one of her games. That this time, she really needed him.

"Just a little help, Vincent. For family."

And because he was Vincent—because he was her brother—he had caved.

Just like she knew he would.

And now, thanks to him, she had access to everything. The hospital records. The staff entrances. The security blind spots.

She took a slow, steadying breath, her rage simmering beneath the surface. It didn't matter that Henry had slipped through her fingers before. This time, she wouldn't make the same mistakes. Emilia had made him soft. Vulnerable. And Zoey knew how to exploit weakness when she saw it.

She slid a hand into her pocket, her fingers closing around the small vial nestled against the fabric. A few drops would be enough—just enough to make Emilia sick. Just enough to remind Henry that the things he loved could still be taken away.

Her pulse steadied, the chaos in her mind settling into sharp, calculated focus.

She had always hated hospitals.

But tonight, she would make this one bleed.

Zoey moved swiftly, slipping into Emilia's darkened hospital room. The monitors beeped softly, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and exhaustion. Emilia slept, her breathing slow, unaware of the storm creeping closer.

Zoey's fingers trembled as she uncapped the vial. Just a few drops into the IV. That's all it would take. A slow, creeping illness. Nothing deadly—just enough to remind Henry that she was still here. That he couldn't just erase her.

She leaned forward; the vial poised above the IV line—

A soft murmur broke the silence.

Zoey froze.

Emilia shifted slightly, her brows knitting together as if sensing the danger in her sleep. Her lips parted, a whisper too faint to catch slipping into the stillness. A flicker of vulnerability—helpless, completely at Zoey's mercy.

Zoey's pulse spiked, her grip tightening on the vial. It would be so easy. Just a few drops. A reminder. A lesson.

But then—

Footsteps. Too close.

The door creaked open.

Cayden.

His sharp gaze locked onto hers instantly, the dim light catching the unmistakable fire in his eyes. He wasn't just angry—he was furious. His stance was rigid, coiled, every muscle primed for a fight. Like he'd been expecting trouble. Like he'd been waiting for her.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Zoey's heart slammed against her ribs. For the first time, a sliver of panic slid under her skin.

Think fast, Zoey.

____________________________________________

Henry stood outside the hospital, the cold air biting against his skin. Something gnawed at him, an unease he couldn't shake. He should be inside with Emilia, but his instincts screamed at him that something was wrong. That he was missing something.

Zoey.

He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. She was gone. She had to be. He wouldn't let her infect his life again.

But the feeling wouldn't leave.

And when he turned back toward the hospital doors, he moved faster, his pulse thrumming with urgency.

Something was wrong.

And he was running out of time.