Every Evening, My Husband Tipped Two Drops From a Small Dark Glass Bottle Into My Tea
My breath caught, and I pressed my fingers against the wall to stay upright.
“I’ll handle the liquid dosage tonight,” Daniel said, his voice dropping lower.
“Just make sure the corporate transfers clear by Monday morning.”
“Don’t fail me, Daniel,” she said, and the call ended with a hollow tone.
He stood motionless for three seconds before sliding the phone into the pocket of his navy robe.
I backed toward the bedroom inch by inch, my heels sinking silently into the thick rug.
I rested my forehead against the cool wooden bedpost in the dark bedroom.
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