Chapter 3

Stanley had made the hospital room feel like home, with clothes, food, and all the daily necessities. Judging by the pile of stuff on the table, I knew that Wynter must've been staying here for quite a while.

No wonder Stanley never came home anymore. No matter how many times I called or texted, he kept accusing me of putting on an act.

I drifted off to the side, turning my face away so I wouldn't have to look at them.

Just then, my gaze landed on the pink scented candle by the wall. It was the very one Stanley had helped me create at a perfume shop back when we were dating.

He used to say that every time he took off his lab coat, he reeked of disinfectant, and he worried I'd be bothered by it. So he brought me to a perfume shop to craft a scent that was mine.

And now, that scent—my own special blend—was sitting in Wynter's hospital room, being used to cover up the smell.

My heart clenched with pain. That scent was unique and precious to me, but it was nothing more than an ordinary item to Stanley. It was ridiculous.

With Stanley helping her, Wynter eased herself back onto the hospital bed. She clung to his arm, worry etched in her voice. "I heard something happened in your department today. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, really. Don't worry," Stanley replied, gently running his fingers through her hair, his gaze gentle, overflowing with affection.

"I heard it was a heart that got dug out. Any news on whose heart it was?" Wynter asked.

By the rules, Stanley wasn't supposed to share any confidential information with outsiders. Even though both Xavier and I know him well, he'd never let slip a single detail to me.

But the moment Wynter asked, he told her everything she wanted to know. "We still don't know whose heart it is, but we've got some leads. We should know in a couple of days."

"That's so scary. What if I end up on the bad guys' radar? I don't have anyone to rely on here," Wynter said, her voice trembling.

Wynter always knew exactly how to get Stanley to do whatever she wanted. Just a look or a word, and he'd be at her beck and call.

Sure enough, Stanley immediately crouched down in front of her, gripping her hand tightly, his eyes full of determination. "As long as I'm here, I swear I'll never let anything happen to you."

"But you can't stay here forever. If you keep sticking around me, Zora's definitely gonna get pissed," Wynter said.

As soon as my name was mentioned, Stanley's expression turned icy, like always. "She's holed up at home all day. What could possibly happen to her?

"If it hadn't been for her, Quincy wouldn't have died so horribly. Every time I look at Zora, I feel like I'm betraying Quincy."

My safety meant nothing to Stanley.

"Sorry. I brought up all those painful memories again," Wynter said, getting up and wrapping Stanley in a warm hug. That smug little smile on her lips burned into my eyes.

"Thanks for always being with me, Wynter," Stanley said softly.

I scoffed, "Stanley, you have no clue. Wynter is the real devil."

*****

The next day, once Wynter was taken care of, Stanley teamed up with the detectives to help investigate heart patients.

They moved fast. Within half a day, they'd already found every woman in the city's hospitals who'd had a heart stent procedure.

But unfortunately, all those women were alive and well. Not a single one was the heart's owner they were searching for.

Stanley quickly came up with another plan. "Judging by the state of the heart, the victim probably died within the past week. That means they were most likely local.

"If we can't find any surgery records, let's look into the follow-up visits. People who've had a heart stent need to come back for regular check-ups."

With that thought, Stanley rushed back to his department to start combing through the files.

Two nurses at the front desk were chatting about who dropped off the lunchbox last night. "That was definitely a guy. No way it was Zora," one of them said.

"It was pouring last night, and everyone had raincoats on. How could you even tell? I've seen that lunchbox for months, and it's always Zora who brings it," the other nurse replied.

When they saw Stanley walking over, they instantly shut up. Everyone knew that my name was off-limits whenever he was around.

I knew Stanley heard them.

We hadn't seen each other in months, and now there was another guy around, but Stanley didn't give a damn.

Our relationship was shattered the day Quincy was butchered. As if he'd ever care who I was with now.

Stanley kept flipping through the follow-up records, and my name kept appearing again and again in his line of sight.

All my post-stent check-ups had been at his hospital.

His earlier disgust was clouding his judgment.

The victim was a woman, 24 to 28 years old, who had a heart stent, and the stent had no serial number. Every detail matched me exactly.

But Stanley looked right past it. Maybe, to him, someone like me simply didn't deserve to die.