But I saw what he did.
When Marcus thought I wasn’t looking, I watched him take a small glass bottle from his pocket. He poured something clear into my soup bowl.
It looked like water, but I knew it wasn’t.
My heart started beating so fast, I thought it might explode in my chest.
Marcus has been acting strange for weeks.
Always asking about my business accounts, my life insurance, and who would get my hotels if something happened to me.
I own three boutique hotels here in Chicago, two in Miami, and one in Los Angeles. They’re worth millions of dollars.
But seeing him put something in my food made everything click into place like a horrible puzzle.
When his phone rang, Marcus jumped up from the table.
“Sorry, honey, it’s work. I’ll be right back,” he said, walking into the living room to take the call.
