CHAPTER 2: THE PERFECT PERFORMANCE

The next morning, Celeste played her role beautifully.

She made breakfast. She touched my arm. She asked Chloe how she felt with soft, careful concern.

“She seems better,” she told me, her voice gentle.

Chloe didn’t answer.

She just looked at her.

Quiet.

Watching.

Children always see the truth first.

“Daniel,” Celeste said, lowering her voice, “we need to talk about last night. About… everything.”

I nodded.

“Of course,” I said.

She smiled.

Relieved.

She thought I was still under her control.

“I think stress is affecting you,” she continued. “The doctors said—”

“I know what the doctors said.”

I stood up slowly.

Her expression flickered.

Just for a second.

“Good,” she said. “Then you understand we need to be rational.”

Rational.

I almost laughed.

Instead, I walked to my office.

Opened the drawer.

Took out the bag.

When I came back, I placed it on the table between us.

Her eyes dropped to it.

And for the first time—

her mask cracked.

“What is that?” she asked.

“You tell me.”

Silence stretched between us.

Heavy.

Sharp.

Then she smiled again.

But it was different now.

Tighter.

“You’re being paranoid, Daniel.”

“Am I?”

I reached into my pocket.

Pulled out my phone.

And pressed play.

The video lit up the screen.

Her.

In Chloe’s room.

The cup in her hand.

The thing inside it moving.

Color drained from her face.

She didn’t deny it.

She didn’t scream.

She didn’t cry.

She just… stared.

“You should have picked someone weaker,” I said quietly.

That’s when she lunged.

Fast.

Desperate.

But I was faster.

I stepped back.

And the front door burst open.

Police.

Two officers stepped inside.

Followed by Mara.

She looked terrified—but determined.

“I told them everything,” she said, her voice shaking.

Celeste froze.

Then slowly, she laughed.

“You think this proves anything?” she said. “You think anyone will believe—”

“They already do.”

A third man stepped in.

Not police.

A specialist.

Private.

Expensive.

“The fragments,” he said, holding up a sealed container, “are parasitic carriers. Engineered. Illegal. Extremely dangerous.”

The room went silent.

Even Celeste stopped smiling.

“You were going to kill her,” I said.

“No,” Celeste whispered.

But her eyes said something else.

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Something worse.

“She was just the test.”