**Chapter 25: Drug Trial** As the hospital doors swung shut behind her, Janet felt a wave of urgency wash over her. She immediately dialed Bernie’s and Fiona’s numbers, but her calls went unanswered, leaving her with an unsettling sense of dread. Frustration bubbled within her, compelling her to seek them out at the Lind family’s estate once more. When she arrived, the sound of her persistent knocking echoed through the empty foyer, until finally, the door creaked open to reveal a bleary-eyed maid, her annoyance palpable. “Are you insane? Why do you keep ringing the doorbell?” the maid grumbled, stifling a yawn. “Let me in! I need to talk to Bernie and Fiona!” Janet urged, her voice trembling with urgency. “They're not home. The entire family is off on vacation in the Maldives,” the maid replied dismissively. “When will they be back?” Janet pressed, her heart racing at the awful implications of their absence. Fiona had claimed to be struggling financially—how could they possibly afford such a trip? “I don’t know. Just go ask them yourself!” The maid flared her nostrils as she slammed the door, leaving Janet standing alone at the threshold, her chest pounding with rage. "You deceitful monsters! May you all rot in hell!" she shouted at the closed door, her body trembling with fury. With the Lind family sunning themselves on a beach far away, Janet felt more alone than ever. Left with no one to turn to and mounting medical expenses for Hannah, desperation clawed at her gut. For a moment, she considered her options—and then the spark of divine intervention struck. Opening her phone browser, an advertisement caught her eye, beckoning her with the promise of cash: a local hospital urgently seeking volunteers for clinical trials involving a groundbreaking tumor drug. The payoff was enticing—$1,000 for a few days in the hospital, with potential damages of up to $40,000 for adverse effects. In her current situation, that sounded like a golden opportunity. “I’m young and healthy,” she thought, her determination firming. Even if the medications had side effects, she reassured herself, they wouldn’t be likely to take her out of the game just yet. Barely able to contain her excitement, Janet sped to the hospital, filling out the registration forms with swift determination. A physical check-up followed, and as she left the facility, she felt a flicker of hope—she was set to participate in the trials the following week. Later that evening, the appetizing aroma of simmering garlic and herbs filled the air as Ethan stepped into the house. The scene unfolded before him like a culinary dream, but he noticed an unexpected figure, engrossed in her task. “Why did you come back early today?” Janet shot him a sideways glance while stirring a pot of spaghetti, her focus unwavering. The apron she wore accentuated her curves perfectly, and as she moved, it tantalizingly hinted at the form beneath—the movement of her hips drew Ethan's attention like a moth to a flame. He swallowed hard, feeling heat creep up his throat. “I got off work earlier,” he replied, striding toward the fridge for a bottle of water. He couldn’t help but notice how the floral pattern of her apron seemed to tease at her feminine allure, not quite covering her thighs as it hugged her body. “Stop tugging at my apron. I bought it on sale! Pink is a beautiful color—now can you please set the spaghetti on the table? I’ll whip up some salad,” she said, the command in her voice mingling with a playful hint. Ethan rolled his eyes but obliged, placing the steaming bowl on the dining table. He noticed scattered design sketches that hinted at an artistic side she rarely showed. Just as he was ready to organize the papers more carefully, one slipped through his fingers, revealing its contents—her physical examination report. His brows knit together in concern. Why was there a nicotine test? What was Janet hiding? The moment she placed the salad on the table, he could sense something was off; her aura seemed distant, lost in thought. “Are you not hungry?” he asked, his gaze narrowing on her expression. “No, I’m just—thinking,” she replied, her fork coming to an abrupt halt as she sensed his scrutiny. “What’s on your mind?” he pressed, meeting her eyes, the warmth in his gaze turning serious. “Have you volunteered for those drug trials?” he asked suddenly, his voice colder than he'd intended. Janet's hand shook, dropping her fork onto the plate with a clatter. An unexpected rush of anxiety coursed through her, but she steeled her nerves, choosing her words carefully. “Yes, I did. The hospital runs these trials regularly. They’re legal, Ethan. Don’t look at me like I’ve committed a crime,” she shot back, trying to mask her unease with defiance. Ethan set down his fork, frustration etched across his features. “Janet, don’t do this. The drug trials can lead to serious side effects. You don’t understand what you’re getting into.” The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, Janet felt the ground beneath her shift.