Chapter 3: The Price of Healing

Tara’s POV

The Lincoln estate stood before me, massive and imposing. I checked my disguise one last time in the rearview mirror: auburn bob wig instead of my usual black hair, green contact lenses in place of brown, enhanced cheekbones from expert makeup, and a surgical mask to complete the look. No one would recognize me as Tara Taylor today.

The butler led me through marble halls that probably cost more than some small countries' GDPs. My heels clicked against the floor in a steady rhythm, each step measured and purposeful. Relax. Don't arouse suspicion.

The Lincoln family had answers about that night when my entire family was murdered. I also wondered why the Taylor fortune had vanished into encrypted accounts hours after the massacre.

Mr. Lincoln lay in his bed like a king holding court, even in his weakened state. His eyes, sharp despite his illness, followed my every movement as I set up my equipment.

"Red Falcon," he wheezed, attempting a smile. "I hear your fees are astronomical."

I smiled behind my mask, letting just enough warmth reach my eyes to be reassuring. "Health is priceless, Mr. Lincoln. Now, please relax and follow the light."

The hypnotic compound I'd developed was odorless, colorless, and completely undetectable. I had mixed a special drug into the saline solution. It would make him answer my questions honestly without remembering anything afterward.

Twenty minutes later, I packed up my equipment with hands that trembled slightly from frustration. Whatever old Lincoln knew about the Taylor massacre, it was buried too deep for even my methods to reach.

The thought was interrupted by a solid wall of expensive suit and masculine cologne as I rounded the corner. Strong hands steadied me before I could stumble, and a familiar and magnetic voice started to say, "I’m sorry."

His warm, broad hand unconsciously caressed my delicate skin, sending shivers down my spine. The familiar touch was just like every night we spent together. Even though he didn't love me, he still had desires. On those nights we slept together, he would breathe heavily against my neck, hold my wrist with one hand, and sensually stroke me back and forth. Even he finished, his penis would leave inside my body, praising me with his deep voice, “Good girl, take it.”

Thinking of that, I felt warm in the lower abdomen, and my heart stopped.

I froze for a fraction of a second before jerking away from his touch. I brushed past him without a word, my face carefully blank. Keep walking. Don't run. Don't look back.

"Wait," I heard him call, but I was already turning the corner, my pulse thundering in my ears.

---

My foot pressed down on the gas pedal, and the speedometer needle jumped past 80. The Maserati's engine roared as we climbed higher into the mountains. My hands were sweating on the leather steering wheel - I could still feel where Luke's fingers had gripped my waist back at the mansion. I cranked up the AC and took another sharp turn.

Luke's Aston Martin appeared around the bend behind me, its chrome grill gleaming in the sunlight. The car grew larger in my mirrors with each passing second.

"Seriously?" I muttered, checking my gas gauge. Three-quarters full. "Fine, let's see what that fancy car of yours can really do, Luke."

I downshifted and accelerated out of the next curve, the g-force pushing me back into my seat. Luke matched my every move. My fingers tightened on the wheel as memories flooded back. Luke teaching me the racing line on empty backroads, his hand over mine on the gearshift, the way his eyes would light up when I nailed a perfect turn.

Sweat trickled down my back as I pushed the car harder. The tires were starting to complain, but I knew these roads. Each apex, each braking point was burned into my mind.

As we approached the final turn, my mouth curved up. The car's engine snarled as I stabbed the brakes and cranked the wheel hard left. The world spun in a blur of sky and asphalt. When everything stopped rotating, I was facing back up the mountain, staring straight at Luke's approaching car through my windshield.

His eyes widened. His arms tensed as he wrestled with the steering wheel. Metal screamed against rock as his Aston Martin scraped the mountain wall. The car jerked to a stop at an angle, engine still running. Through the glass, I could see Luke's chest rising and falling rapidly, his knuckles white on the wheel. A scratch ran down his perfect car's silver paint.

I held up my left hand, then I turned my thumb down slowly and deliberately. Remember this forever, Luke.

The Maserati's tires spun on the asphalt as I reversed around the bend. In my mirror, I caught one last glimpse of Luke's face - shocked, angry, and underneath it all, a flash of something that looked almost like desire.

Now he knew what it was like to watch someone drive away without looking back. I felt a thrill of revenge.

When I backed to the Mountain View Estate, Peter's voice sounded. "Boss, someone's trying to breach our firewalls."

I was already at my computer, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Origin?"

"The Carter Group. Their IT team has been at it for hours, but now... this is more sophisticated."

A smile tugged at my lips as I recognized the attack pattern. "Luke joined the game personally. Let's give him a proper welcome."

The next fifteen minutes were a fierce war. Luke was constantly attacking, and I was constantly defending. He had Computer Science degrees. But sorry, I was the one who had won those Nobel Prizes.

Finally, I typed out message: [LOSER] in bright red letters across his screen.

"That should keep him humble," I murmured, sitting back. "Peter, strengthen our firewalls. He'll try again."

"Yes, boss. And James Mitchell from Carter Group has been trying to reach us, saying it's about a patient."

I froze, vaguely having an answer in my mind. "What patient?"

"Sarah Quinn. They're offering fifty million for immediate treatment."

A laugh bubbled up from my chest, bitter as poison. "Tell them I'm very selective about my patients. I don’t like this Sarah Quinn."

After five minutes, Peter reported again, "They've increased the offer to one hundred million."

"Tell them..." I paused, remembering Luke's cold words in the warehouse.

"Boss, that's..."

"Excessive? Maybe. But some debts can only be paid in pain." I closed my laptop with finality. "Let's see how much his precious Sarah is really worth to him."

The sun was setting over Manhattan, painting the city in shades of gold and shadow. From my position, I could see the Carter Group’s tower piercing the skyline like an accusing finger.

"After you took Sarah away, they detonated the bombs."

My own words from the hospital echoed in my mind. Had he even believed me then? Or had he already decided I was nothing but a liar, a manipulator, someone whose pain meant nothing compared to precious Sarah's comfort?

There was another message from James. The Carter Group was still trying to negotiate. I deleted it without reading.

I told the glittering skyline, "Luke, you truly love your sweet Sarah, huh?"