Chapter 1
On the day I discovered my husband was cheating, I also received his highly alarming medical report.
The doctor's notes were explicit. He needed to strictly avoid stress and excitement to prevent a sudden, fatal heart attack.
I just smiled.
From then on, I became the most considerate wife in everyone's eyes. I meticulously curated his meals and his free time.
That was until he dropped dead from cardiac arrest right on top of his mistress.
Clutching the autopsy report, I looked down at the sobbing woman and delivered my promise. "You murderer. I'm going to make sure you rot in a prison cell."
Between his lucrative life insurance, the civil settlement from his lover, and my flawless status as a grieving widow, I walked away from this game as the ultimate winner.
*****
We had been married for six years. To our friends in the suburbs, we were the picture of a happy, successful couple.
Two packages left on the porch blew that wide open.
The first was a thick manila envelope from a private investigator.
It was full of photos showing Graham Saunders with another woman. They were holding hands at the mall, making out against his SUV, and slipping into a cheap motel room.
The woman looked young and reckless. She clung to him in a way I never did.
The timestamps covered the last six months.
The second package was from his cardiologist at City General. It held the results of his annual physical.
I skimmed the pages until the cardiovascular section caught my eye. Severe coronary atherosclerosis. Extremely high risk of an acute myocardial infarction.
The doctor strongly advised immediate lifestyle changes, warning him to avoid emotional stress, heavy meals, and physical exhaustion.
Avoid emotional stress?
I glanced from the clinical warning to a photo of Graham looking flushed and thrilled with his hands all over that girl.
A cold, sharp idea took root in my head.
He had just handed me the knife of his betrayal and the shovel for his grave on the exact same day.
I didn't cry or scream. The heartbreak never came.
Instead, a chilling sense of purpose settled in my chest.
If Graham wanted to play so hard that his body was failing, I would gladly help him refuel.
After all, taking care of him was my duty as his wife.
I locked the medical report in my desk drawer and ran the photos through the paper shredder.
Then I put on my apron and went to the kitchen. Soon, the house smelled like brown sugar glazed pork belly. It was his absolute favorite meal and the exact opposite of what the doctor ordered.
Graham walked in at seven. There was a faint smudge of hot pink lipstick on his collar.
He dropped his briefcase with a heavy sigh, complaining about how dead he was after a crazy day at the firm.
I took his bag with a warm smile. "You work too hard, honey. Go wash up. I made your favorite glazed pork belly and opened a nice Cabernet to help you unwind."
He looked surprised.
We had a huge fight about his late hours just the night before, so he was clearly expecting an argument.
But the smell of the food won him over. A smug look of satisfaction washed over his face. "You're so good to me, honey."
I stood by as he shoved the fatty meat into his mouth and downed the wine. A dark thought rippled through my mind.
Eat up, my loving husband.
Your best days were just beginning.
To everyone else, I was Violet Archer, the devoted wife. In reality, I was laying a trap made of pure affection.
Our diet changed overnight.
Breakfast went from oatmeal to thick-cut bacon, butter-fried eggs, and whole milk lattes.
Graham loved it. He constantly bragged about how well I took care of him.
"You burn so much energy at work. You need the calories," I said.