I would throw it away at work tomorrow.
Later that night, I heard Marcus talking quietly on his phone in the living room.
I crept to the top of our stairs and listened.
“She’s getting sicker faster than we expected,” he was saying. “Maybe we should slow down a little bit.”
A woman’s voice was talking back, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying clearly.
It sounded like Sophia, but I couldn’t be sure.
“No, you’re right,” Marcus continued. “We need to stick to the plan. Just a few more weeks, and this will all be over.”
I crawled back to our bedroom and pretended to be asleep when Marcus came upstairs.
But I lay awake all night, finally understanding the truth.
My husband was slowly poisoning me to death, and my own sister was helping him do it.
I couldn’t take the uncertainty anymore.
