The Twin's Poisoned Betrayal

"You've been draining my heart's blood every month just to keep her alive?"

I stood in the entryway.

Norman Stephens's briefcase was still in my hand, the one he'd left by the door that morning.

The strap bit into my palm.

It didn't hurt much.

On the sofa, the woman went still.

She held a mouthful of medicine, a smear of crimson at the corner of her lips.

I knew that smell.

It was mine.

Norman's hand jerked hard.

The white porcelain bowl knocked against the woman's teeth with a bright little clink.

He turned his head.

The instant he saw me, his face went white as paper.