There's One Thing I Like About Him

Chapter 24

A week before...

Isabelle

"How the hell did you mess this up? Are you fucking stupid? Where did you even get your license—some kind of bargain bin for incompetent nurses?" My voice trembled with fury as I gripped the phone tighter, pacing the room. Years. Years of careful planning, all hinging on every single detail going smoothly. And now, on the verge of success, I was stuck dealing with a moron.

"I'm so sorry, Miss. I thought I had already administered the dose," the nurse stammered on the other end. Her voice was thin, scared—she should be.

"You thought you had?" I stopped dead in my tracks, my mind racing. "You don't get paid to think. You get paid to do exactly what I tell you, no more, no less. I told you, one wrong move and this entire thing falls apart."

"I-I understand," she whispered, as though shrinking under the weight of my words. I could almost imagine her trembling hands gripping the syringe, hovering uselessly over the patient.

"No, you don't understand." My teeth clenched as I glanced at the clock on the wall. Time was slipping away, and my patience right along with it. "Do you have any idea what's at stake here? If this fails—no, when this fails, because of you—everything we've worked for will be wasted. And you'll be lucky if you only lose your job."

I paused, letting the silence hang between us, thick with menace. On the other end, I heard her ragged breathing, like she was trying not to cry. Good. She should be scared.

"What do you want me to do?" Her voice was barely audible.

For a brief moment, I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. Anger wouldn't fix this. I needed to think, fast. Damage control. There was still a chance to turn this around—if she followed my instructions to the letter.

"Listen carefully," I said slowly, as though speaking to a child. "You're going to go back in there, and this time, you're going to do it right. No more excuses. You'll inject the dose, and then you'll make sure no one suspects a thing. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss."

I hung up without waiting for her to say more, tossing the phone onto the backseat with a frustrated flick of my wrist. The sharp clatter echoed in the quiet car, louder than it should've been, cutting through the suffocating silence. My fingers drummed against the steering wheel, my knuckles tight, eyes locked on the road ahead, though my mind was anywhere but here. I kept replaying that screw-up in my head, the feeling of a noose tightening, threatening to choke out everything we'd built.

Next to me, Cliff sat in the passenger seat, watching—always watching. He hadn't said a word, and I could feel the weight of his gaze pressing into me, but he stayed silent, as he always did when things went sideways. Waiting for me to snap first. That silence, thick and heavy, gnawed at my nerves, just like the smirk I could feel tugging at his lips without even having to glance over.

"Fuck this shit!" I exploded, slamming my fists into the steering wheel. The impact reverberated through the car, a hollow crack against the leather-covered wheel. It barely scratched the surface of the frustration clawing at me from the inside, but it was enough to jolt the tension loose for a second. I could feel Cliff still looking at me, calm as ever, but I didn't care.

The rage bubbled up, uncontrolled, and I needed it out—needed to feel something break. But nothing did. Nothing ever did.

"What now?" Cliff finally opened his mouth, his tone infuriatingly casual, as though I hadn't just slammed my fists into the wheel. He shifted slightly in his seat, one eyebrow raised. "Are we going to the US?"

I didn't answer right away, my fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. The sound of his voice, calm and detached, made my blood boil even more. Of course he'd ask that—like it was all that simple.

"No," I said, my voice tight, eyes still locked on the road ahead. "Not yet. That nurse messed things up, she needs to fix this on her own." My grip on the steering wheel tightened as the words left my mouth. I wasn't going to let anyone else drag us down. Not now. Not after everything we'd put in.

Cliff shifted beside me, his posture still casual but there was a hint of skepticism in his voice. "And you really think she's capable of that? Fixing it?"

"She doesn't have a choice," I snapped, the words cutting through the air, harsher than I intended. But I didn't take them back. I meant them. "She's in too deep. She knows what'll happen if she doesn't." My grip tightened, my voice dropping lower. "I have her family in my hands."

Cliff didn't respond right away, but I could feel his eyes on me, sharp and assessing. The silence hung between us, thick and suffocating, amplifying the mounting pressure in the car. Finally, he broke it.

"Right. Because scared, incompetent people always perform well under pressure." He chuckled softly under his breath, leaning back in his seat like this was some kind of joke.

I shot him a sharp look, my eyes narrowing as annoyance flared within me. "She will fix it," I said through clenched teeth, my voice laced with determination. "Or she won't be a problem much longer."

"You sure that's smart?" He let out a low chuckle, as if genuinely amused by the whole thing. "Or is that just your ego talking?"

"I need to call Markus," I said suddenly, my voice barely above a whisper. A wave of urgency surged through me, pushing aside the simmering frustration. "I need him right now. I need my boyfriend."

Cliff's expression shifted slightly, the teasing smirk fading as he turned to me fully. "Oh, right. You need help from your knight in shining armor," he said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

I shot him a glare, my patience wearing thin. "This isn't a fairy tale, Cliff. I'll book him a ticket to the US. He'll be our eyes and ears, and if that nurse screws up again, I'll end her life myself."

The gravity of my words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, fueling my resolve. Cliff's eyes widened, momentarily taken aback by the venom in my tone.

"Mind your own assignment, Cliff. Just do whatever you can to make that bitch Trisha fall in love with you." My voice was laced with disdain, each word dripping with irritation.

Cliff raised an eyebrow, unfazed by my sharpness. "That's a little harsh, don't you think?" he replied, his tone teasing but with an underlying seriousness.

"Harsh? She's the one who nearly blew our entire operation. I can't afford distractions right now," I snapped, my frustration boiling over. "You focus on her, and I'll handle the nurse. Just make sure she's completely wrapped around your finger. If Trisha thinks she's in control, it'll keep her from messing with us again."

He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms, a mixture of amusement and annoyance flickering across his face. "You do realize that love isn't some sort of magic trick, right? I can't just wave a wand and make her swoon."

I glared at him, unyielding. "I don't care how you do it, just get it done. Use whatever charm you have left. Make her trust you. She's a liability, and I can't let her compromise everything we've worked for."

Cliff sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "And what if she sees through it? What if she turns on me?"

"Then you'll handle it," I shot back, my voice steely. "But I need you focused on Trisha while I deal with the fallout from the nurse's screw-up. This isn't about trust; it's about survival. Get it?"

He nodded slowly, the teasing smirk finally fading. "Alright, alright. I'll do what I can. But just know, you're not the only one taking risks here."

"I never claimed I was," I said, my heart pounding with a mix of determination and dread. "But at least I'm not pretending that everything will work out perfectly. This is war, Cliff. And in war, we do whatever it takes."