Sera walked to the door and engaged the deadbolt. She checked the signal detector app on her phone-a hidden program she'd coded herself. The cameras were video only, no audio.
She walked back to Harrison and sat on the ottoman in front of him.
I know your blindness is toxicological, not traumatic, she said.
Harrison's knuckles turned white on the head of his cane. Who sent you?
No one. I'm a doctor. A real one. Not the quack you have on payroll.
Harrison scoffed. You're twenty-three. You're a college dropout.
"I won a full, anonymous scholarship to Johns Hopkins at fifteen. The Quinns never knew. They thought the checks they sent were for a low-tier state college. I lived a double life, Harrison. The money they thought was for rent and books? It paid for my burner phones and encrypted hard drives. I graduated at nineteen under a name they'd never find. I'm a ghost. The Quinns just paid for the sheets I used to disappear."
She leaned in. Your symptoms. Photophobia. Muscle spasms. The sweet smell on your breath. It's a cumulative neurotoxin. Dr. Lewis is poisoning you.
Harrison went very still. He had suspected it. But hearing it said aloud made the rage boil in his gut.
What do you want?
My mother's trust fund. The Quinns stole it. And her necklace. It's the key to the account. You help me get those, and I give you your eyes back.
Harrison turned his face toward her voice. You're insane.
Give me seven days, Sera said. If you don't see light-just light-in seven days, you can throw me to the wolves. Or into the ocean. I don't care.
Harrison weighed the odds. He was dying anyway.
Fine. But if you're lying... I will kill you myself.
Deal.
Sera stood up. She took his hand. His palm was rough, calloused.
She went to work immediately. She retrieved the leather roll from the hem of her dress and selected several needles.
Lie down on the floor. In the corner. The cameras can't see the floor there.
Harrison hesitated, then lowered himself onto the carpet. Sera knelt beside him.
She smelled of rain and cheap drugstore shampoo. It was... clean.
She touched his face. Her fingers were cool, professional.
This will sting.
She inserted the first needle into the temple. Then the bridge of the nose. Then the sensitive skin under the eye.
Harrison flinched, but didn't make a sound.
Sera worked fast. She could feel the tension in his facial muscles.
Relax, she whispered. Her breath fanned across his cheek.
For twenty minutes, silence. Harrison focused on her breathing. It was steady.
Okay. I'm taking them out.
She removed the needles. Open your eyes.
Harrison opened them. The darkness was still there. But... in the center of his vision, the impenetrable black had turned to a dark, muddy gray.
It wasn't sight. But it wasn't nothing.
He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Sera saw the shock on his face.
Don't tell anyone, she warned. Especially Sophia. To them, you're still blind.
Harrison sat up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, black metal card. He tossed it onto her lap.
Buy some decent clothes. You look like a beggar. And get whatever medical supplies you need.
Sera picked up the card. It was heavy. Unlimited limit.
She smiled. It was the first real smile she'd had in years.
Pleasure doing business with you, husband.
