Chapter 4

Every morning, Marvin brought me a cup of chamomile tea. And every morning, I tasted the faint, chalky bitterness hidden beneath the honey. He was slipping heavy, illegal psychotropic drugs into my drinks to make me docile, confused, and erratic.

I stopped swallowing them.

I would take a sip, hold the liquid at the back of my throat, and wait for him to turn around. The second he looked away, I spat the laced tea into a napkin and hid the soggy pills deep in my robe pocket.

But I played the part perfectly. I faked the madness. I let my hands tremble when I held my fork. I stared blankly at the walls. I cried at shadows and flinched when he walked into the room.

I let him believe my mind was finally shattering into a million irreparable pieces.

It worked. His guard dropped.

He didn't know that in the dark, under the heavy duvet, I was coordinating a master plan.

Derek had slipped a tiny, encrypted burner phone into my coat pocket at the clinic.

Every night, the screen lit up with his messages.

“Hold on, little bird,” Derek texted me one night. “The cage opens soon. You belong to me now. I will not let him touch a single hair on your head.”

His presence in my life gave me a newfound, unbreakable strength. I finally knew what real, fierce, territorial protection felt like. I wasn't just fighting to save my son anymore.

I was fighting for the intoxicating, dangerous future Derek had promised me.

Then, the day of our fifth wedding anniversary arrived.

Marvin rented a massive luxury yacht, anchoring it just off the coast. But there was no party. There were no guests. It was just us, the vast, empty ocean, and a trap he had perfectly set.

Marvin dragged me down the stairs into the isolated, soundproof VIP master cabin. The heavy glass doors leading to the private aft balcony were wide open, letting in the freezing, roaring ocean wind.

I wasn't alone with him.

Louise was standing on the very edge of the balcony, her high heels inches from the drop into the dark, churning water below.

She was wearing a stunning red dress, a wicked, victorious smile playing on her lips.

And she was holding my three-year-old son.

"Mommy!" James screamed, his tiny face red and streaked with terrified tears. He reached his little arms out to me, squirming against Louise’s tight, bruising grip.

"Happy anniversary, Denise," Louise purred, her eyes dancing with cruel delight as she held my crying baby closer to the edge.

My heart slammed against my ribs, but I forced my face to remain completely blank.

On the glass table in the center of the room sat a thick stack of legal documents and a black pen.

Marvin walked over to the mahogany wet bar. He poured himself a glass of expensive amber whiskey from his favorite crystal decanter.

Then, he picked up a tall glass of milk and walked toward me.

He pressed the cold glass into my trembling hands.

"Drink up, baby," Marvin whispered, his dark eyes gleaming with a sick, predatory excitement. "It will calm your nerves. And then, you are going to sign those papers."

I looked at the documents. It was a complete transfer of my estate.

I stared at the white liquid in my glass. I knew exactly what was in it. It was laced with the final, perfectly calculated lethal dose of peanut oil.

If I took a single sip, my throat would close, my heart would stop, and Marvin would inherit everything.

"Sign the papers, Denise," Marvin commanded, taking a long, deep swallow of his whiskey. "You don't want James to have an accident, do you?"

He expected me to break down. He expected me to fall to my knees, cry, and beg for my son's life.

Instead, I stood perfectly tall.

The panic was completely gone. The fear evaporated into the cool ocean breeze.

I looked at Marvin. And for the first time in months, I smiled. A slow, chilling, genuine smile.

I didn't drink the milk. I simply set the glass down on the table next to the documents.

Marvin’s brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you doing? I said drink it."

"I don't think I will," I replied, my voice terrifyingly steady.

Marvin sneered, taking another aggressive step toward me. "You crazy bitch, you will do exactly what I—"

He stopped.

Marvin’s eyes suddenly widened. The crystal whiskey glass slipped from his fingers, shattering into a hundred pieces on the hardwood floor.

He gasped, his hands flying to his throat.

For weeks, I had been hoarding the heavy psychotropic drugs he tried to feed me. Dozens and dozens of pills. And right before we boarded the yacht, I had crushed every single one of them into a fine powder and poured the massive, lethal dose directly into his favorite whiskey decanter.

Marvin choked. His eyes rolled back into his head. He clutched his stomach, his knees violently buckling beneath him.

He collapsed hard onto the polished wooden floor, convulsing.

"Marvin!" Louise screamed.

She looked at his convulsing body, then looked up at me. The realization hit her like a physical blow.

"You poisoned him," Louise breathed, her face turning pale with terror.

Louise’s terror instantly morphed into a feral, desperate rage. She stepped backward, her heels slipping dangerously close to the edge of the balcony.

James wailed, terrified by the sudden movement and the roaring waves below him.

"You bitch," Louise snarled, her voice shaking with pure malice as she dangled my crying son over the dark, freezing water. "If you kill him, I swear to God, I will drop your son into the ocean right now!"