Chapter 3

“Blair, why are you sitting on the floor?”

The bedroom door opened, and Victor walked in wearing silk pajamas, carrying a delicate porcelain bowl.

He hurried to my side and helped me up, his eyes full of concern.

“Did you get dizzy again?”

He gently touched my forehead, then picked the crown up off the floor and set it on the vanity.

“Here, take today's medicine first. The doctor said it slows down your memory loss.”

He scooped up a spoonful of the dark, murky liquid, blew on it, and held it to my lips.

“Good girl. Drink it and get to bed early — tomorrow you'll be the most beautiful bride in the world.”

Ten minutes earlier, I'd have swallowed it without hesitation and been moved to tears by his tenderness.

But now, looking at that impossibly gentle face, my stomach just churned.

The medicine gave off a strange, bitter-sweet smell.

That festering face from ten years later wouldn't leave my mind.

“I… I feel a little nauseous. I'll drink it later.” I turned my face away, fighting to keep from trembling.

Victor's eyes darkened almost imperceptibly, then quickly softened again.

“The best medicine tastes the worst. You've been so forgetful lately — you can't skip your doses.”

There was a faint, hard edge under his tone.

“Be good. I'll feed it to you.”

I clenched my fists so hard my nails nearly cut into my palms.

“Victor, I really can't drink it right now. I want to take a shower first.”

I stood, not daring to meet his eyes, and all but fled into the bathroom.

The second I locked the door, I leaned back against it, gasping for air.

I heard Victor moving around outside, and after a while his footsteps left the bedroom.

I turned on the faucet, letting the running water cover everything.

Then I quietly eased the bathroom door open a crack.

Victor wasn't in the bedroom.

Barefoot, I crossed to the nightstand and pulled open the bottom drawer.

There was a hidden compartment there. Victor thought I didn't know about it, but I'd found it long ago while cleaning — I'd just never opened it, because I trusted him.

I fished out a black backup phone.

With shaking fingers, I typed in Chloe's birthday: 0912.

The screen lit up.

The phone had only one hidden messaging app.

The pinned contact was named “Babe.”

The profile picture was Chloe's beloved ragdoll cat.

I opened the chat history, and a wave of disgust drowned me instantly.

[Honey, the baby kicked me again today. I can't wait for him to be born.]

Attached was a photo of a pregnant belly — and the background was the sofa in mine and Victor's wedding suite!

Victor replied: [You've worked so hard, love. Once that stupid woman signs the power of attorney tomorrow, Kensington Group is ours. Then I'll send her straight to a sanatorium and bring you in to live here out in the open.]

Chloe: [Should we up her dosage? I'm scared she'll come to her senses tomorrow and refuse to sign.]

Victor: [Relax, I doubled tonight's dose. By tomorrow her brain will be total mush. She'll do whatever I tell her.]

Chloe: [You're so smart, honey. I love you to death. That frump still thinks she's dying of some terminal illness — it's hilarious.]

I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, just to keep from screaming out loud.

Ten years of friendship. Five years of love.

All of it a carefully built con to bleed me dry and slaughter me!

They didn't just want my money — they wanted to turn me into a total madwoman, to make me wish I were dead!

I quickly forwarded all the chat logs and the photo of the prenatal report to my private encrypted email.

Then I deleted the forwarding records and put the phone back in the compartment exactly as it had been.

The moment I finished, footsteps approached the bedroom door.

I rushed back into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face.

When Victor pushed the door open, I was just coming out, drying my hair.

“All done?” He walked over smiling, still holding that bowl of medicine. “It's the perfect temperature now. Drink up.”

I looked at him and suddenly smiled.

“Okay.”

I took the porcelain bowl and walked to the windowsill.

“Victor, you're so good to me.”

“For you, I'd do anything.”

The instant a satisfied smile crossed his face, I flipped my wrist.

Every last drop of the dark liquid poured into the prized clivia plant on the sill.

“Oops, my hand slipped.” I looked at him with fake alarm.

Victor's face went instantly ugly, a vein jumping at his temple.

But he quickly choked down his anger and forced out a smile.

“It's fine. I'll go make you another bowl.”

“Don't bother.” I cut him off, walked over, and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face against his chest.

“It's too late. I'm tired, and I have to be up early tomorrow.”