But the worst part came at the end of their conversation.
“When should we give her the final dose?” Sophia asked.
Marcus thought for a moment.
“Next Tuesday. I’ll put enough arsenic in her dinner to kill her within a few hours. Then I’ll call 911 and act like the devastated husband who found his wife dead from a heart attack.”
“And then we’ll be free,” Sophia said, smiling like she was talking about a vacation instead of my murder.
They kissed goodbye, and Sophia left through our back door so the neighbors wouldn’t see her.
I sat in my office on the 40th floor of the Willis Tower, looking out at Lake Michigan, and realized I had five days to figure out how to save my own life.
My husband and sister had been poisoning me for two months, and they were planning to finish the job next Tuesday.
