“Did you actually see anything,” he pressed, “or are you guessing?”
Her eyes glistened, but her voice did not waver. “I saw her. Through the kitchen window. She poured white powder from a small packet into your soup.”
A coldness spread through him — not the familiar dizzy spell, but something deeper. Betrayal.
He heard the sharp click of heels on gravel.
His wife, Victoria, stood a few feet away. Perfectly styled. Elegant. Yet something in her posture betrayed tension. Her sunglasses hid her eyes, but her hand trembled slightly.
“Who is this child?” she asked, her voice too controlled.
The girl didn’t move. “I saw you. You put powder in his food.”
Victoria laughed, but the sound cracked in the middle. “This is absurd.”
He didn’t look at the girl anymore. He studied his wife — the quick swallow, the tightening of her throat, the faint sheen of sweat at her hairline. Devotion, he suddenly realized, had slowly turned into control.
“If it’s a lie,” he said quietly, “swear it on our son.”
Silence.
The silence said everything.
Tears welled in Victoria’s eyes. “I did it for us,” she whispered.
“For us?” His voice was barely audible. “You poisoned me… for us?”