After Rejection Divorced Luna Becomes A Famous Doctor (Hailey and Dominic) novel Chapter 165

CHAPTER HUNDRED THIRTYSEVEN

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CHAPTER HUNDRED-THIRTYSEVEN

TRICIA

“An unknown number,” I rasped, my throat feeling like sandpaper. “I don’t know who it is. They just texted me.” I hated that I had to explain myself to her, that I had to lay my vulnerability bare. But I was at her mercy, and I had no other choice.

My mother stared at me, her expression unreadable. I could see the gears turning in her head, the cogs of her manipulative mind whirring into action. She was not a stupid woman. She knew there was more to this than a simple blackmail. She knew that someone was targeting me, and by extension, someone who wants to see my downfall.

“Let me see your phone,” she said, holding out her hand.

I hesitated for a second, my fingers tightening around the device. It was the only thing connecting me to the outside world, to the slim chance I had of getting out of this mess on my own. But I knew I had no choice. She would just take it from me if I refused. My compliance was part of our unspoken transaction.

I handed it over, my arm trembling with the effort. She snatched it from my grasp, her long, perfectly manicured fingers flying across the screen. Her eyes scanned the messages, her face a mask of cold concentration. I watched her, my heart pounding in my chest. I was afraid of what she would find, what she would think. I was afraid of her judgment.

“Smart,” she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. “Using a burner phone app to mask the number. Clever. But not clever enough.” She turned the phone towards me, pointing to a series of numbers and letters at the bottom of the message. “This is a code. A signature, if you will. And I know exactly who it belongs to.”

I stared at the screen, my mind racing. A code? I hadn’t noticed it before. I was so focused on the threats, on the fear, that I hadn’t seen the bigger picture. I was a fool, just like she said.

“Who?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“A ghost,” she said, a small, cruel smile playing on her lips. “Someone who has been a thorn in my side for a very long time.

Someone who thought they could outsmart me. But they were wrong. Dead wrong.”

She rose from her chair, her movements fluid and predatory. She walked over to the bookshelf, her fingers trailing over the spines of the books. She stopped at a large, leather bound volume and pulled it out. The shelf creaked, and then swung open, revealing a hidden safe. She typed in a code, and the door swung open, revealing a collection of weapons, old scrolls, and a small, black box.

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CHAPTER HUNDRED THIRTYSEVEN

Claim

She took out the box and opened it. Inside was a single, silver vial. The liquid inside shimmered, catching the light from the desk lamp.

“What is that?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“A little something I’ve been saving for a special occasion,” she said, her eyes glinting with a dangerous light. “A truth serum. A very potent one. It will make our friend here tell us everything we want to know. And then, we will decide what to do with them.”

She turned to one of the guards. “Find this ghost. Use whatever resources you need. I want them found. And I want them brought to me. Alive.”

The guard nodded and disappeared out of the room.

She then turned her attention back to me, her eyes scanning my weakened state. A flicker of something, maybe disgust, maybe something else, crossed her face.

“And you,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “Look at the state of you. You’re a disgrace. A pathetic, weak excuse for a vampire. You’re not my daughter. My daughter would have been stronger. Smarter. She wouldn’t have let herself be played like a fiddle. He knew you were the weaker, pathetic version of me and that was why you were an easy target.”

Her words were like daggers, each one landing with a painful thud in my chest. I wanted to scream at her, to tell her that it was her fault, that she was the one who had made me this way. But I couldn’t. I had no fight left in me. I was empty. A hollow shell of the monster she had created.

She walked over to a small bar in the corner of the room and poured a glass of a thick, dark red liquid. The metallic, coppery scent of fresh blood filled the air, and my fangs ached with a primal hunger. My throat felt like a desert, my body screaming for the nourishment it had been denied.

She walked back over to me and held the glass out. “Drink,” she commanded.

I stared at the glass, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. I knew this was not an act of kindness. This was a strategic move. She needed me functional. A broken, starving vampire was useless to her. She was refueling her tool, sharpening her weapon before she sent it back into the fray. To accept it was to accept her power, to become indebted to her once more.

There must be a reason why she’s deciding to help me, because knowing my mother, she could easily just let me take the fall for my actions. And maybe, just maybe, she has a plan.

I took the glass, my hands shaking. The coolness of the crystal was a small comfort against my burning skin. I brought it to my lips and drank, the rich, life giving liquid coating my parched throat. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted, and I drank it greedily, my body coming alive with every sip. The pain in my skin began to subside, and a wave of strength washed over me. I could

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