Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Victorian House
When Maris returned from her business trip two days later, she carried expensive boutique shopping bags and wore her signature radiantly warm smile. She smelled of expensive jasmine perfume—a scent that now made my skin crawl.
"Darling! Lumi!" she called out, her voice echoing through the high-ceilinged foyer of the Victorian house.
I stepped down the staircase, controlling my heart rate and forcing a welcoming smile. "Welcome home, Maris. How was San Francisco?"
"Exhausting, sweetie," she said, leaning in to kiss my cheek. I held my breath so I wouldn't inhale her fragrance. "Where is my little angel?"
Lumi emerged from the kitchen, holding a drawing pad. Her entire posture stiffened instantly. The relaxed, joyful child of the past forty-eight hours vanished, replaced by the silent, hyper-vigilant phantom I had come to recognize.
"Right here, Mommy," Lumi said quietly.
"Oh, look at you! Did you miss Mommy?" Maris knelt down, wrapping her arms around Lumi in a embrace that looked maternal to anyone watching from a distance, but I could see the tight, forceful grip of her fingers digging into the child’s back. "Did you behave for David?"
"Yes, Mommy. I was good."
"She was wonderful," I interrupted smoothly, taking Maris’s coat. "We had a very quiet weekend. Built blanket forts, read books."
Maris’s eyes flicked to mine—a sharp, probing glance that lasted a fraction of a second before softening back into spousal tenderness. "That’s lovely. David, could you pour us some wine? I think we deserve a quiet evening."
That night, as Maris prepared dinner, I watched her carefully from the dining room. I saw her slip a small eyedropper from her apron pocket and drop three clear droplets into my wine glass before topping it off with Cabernet.
My pulse spiked, but I kept my composure. When she turned around with two glasses in hand, I was already looking at my phone, pretending to read a work email.
"Here you go, my love," she said, handing me the tainted glass. "To our beautiful future together."
"To our future," I replied, raising the glass to my lips.
As she took a sip of hers, I feigned a sudden stumble, bumping my elbow hard against the edge of the wooden dining table. The glass slipped from my hand, shattering against the hardwood floor and spilling the poisoned wine everywhere.
"Oh! I am so sorry, Maris," I exclaimed, immediately dropping to my knees with a napkin. "How clumsy of me! Hospital night shifts are catching up with me."
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Maris’s face flashed with a fleeting look of pure rage before she quickly masked it with concern. "Oh, darling, it's alright! Just a glass. Don't worry about it."
As I wiped up the liquid, I absorbed a generous sample into a sterile gauze pad hidden in my pocket. I needed chemical proof of the attempt on my life. The trap was laid, but I was building a cage from which she would never escape.
