Chapter 3

My investigation started on Wednesday.

I didn't follow Henry around. That was too low. A guy with that much control would definitely notice if someone was tailing him.

Instead, I went with a dumber but safer method: looking into his cars.

Henry had three cars he always used: the Maybach for his daily commute, the Porsche he sometimes drove on weekends, and a Land Rover that mostly sat idle in the underground garage.

I noticed something interesting: every Wednesday afternoon, he'd leave in the Porsche instead of the Maybach.

I knew why he switched cars. It was because the Maybach was too flashy, and it always came with the Landon family's senior driver. He drove the Porsche himself, without anyone else.

On the first Wednesday, I didn't do anything.

On the second Wednesday, I asked the housekeeper to grab a "scarf" I'd left in the car. I slipped a tracker under the passenger seat's glove box. It was as thin as a woundplast.

It was nothing high-tech, only a 30-dollar tracker I picked up from Amazon, free shipping included. One charge, and it'd last two weeks. It was simple, effective, and unnoticeable.

On the third Wednesday, at 2:15 PM, the Porsche rolled out of the underground garage.

I sat by my bedroom bay window, watching the blue dot on my phone drift across the screen.

It moved from the east side of the city, through downtown, and finally stopped somewhere on the west side: No. 17 Lakeview Avenue.

I looked it up. It was a private apartment building. There were only six units, each over 2,000 square feet.

I couldn't find any info on the residents, but I recognized the property management company.

It was a high-end brand under Pierce Real Estate, the Pierce family's business.

This was interesting. I jotted down the address and turned off my phone.

I didn't blow up, didn't question Henry, and didn't storm over there to bust him cheating.

I only added another line to my notebook: [No. 17 Lakeview Avenue; every Wednesday; 2:30 PM to 4:30 PM; Pierce Property Management.]

Then I locked the notebook away in my dresser drawer. On the surface, everything stayed the same.

I still greeted Henry with a smile every morning, meekly drank the milk he gave me, and acted like a satisfied newlywed.

Sometimes, I'd even play the sweet wife and ask if he could take me shopping on the weekend.

He always agreed, and he'd earnestly follow me into every shop.

Henry would carry my bags, tie my shoelaces, and part the crowd for me.

To outsiders, we looked like the sweetest newlyweds in the whole city.

Henry was nice to me, perfect in every way.

But his kindness was like a sheet of cling film. I could see the warmth through it, yet I never got close to what he truly felt inside.

*****

By the fifth week, I went to the hospital for a full check-up.

When the results came out, the doctor frowned at me. "Ms. Roper, have you been taking any hormone drugs lately?"

I said no.

The doctor adjusted her glasses. "Your hormone levels are a bit off. Estrogen is high, but it doesn't look like a natural fluctuation. I'd recommend a detailed endocrine workup."

I nodded and agreed.

As I walked out of the hospital, I stood on the steps for a moment and laughed.

I folded up the test report and slipped it into the hidden compartment of my bag. This was another piece of evidence.

On my way home, I stopped by the pharmacy and picked up a box of folic acid. I set it out openly on my nightstand.

That night, Henry saw it. He picked up the box and stared at it for a couple of seconds. "What's this?"

"Folic acid," I said, snuggled up in bed, sounding all light and breezy. "We've been married for over a month. Isn't it about time we started planning for a baby?

"I went to the hospital today for a check-up. The doctor said I'm all good to go."

Henry went quiet. He put the folic acid back, his fingers lingering on the box for a second.

"No rush," he said. "Your health isn't great. You'd better build up your strength first."

"But I want a baby." I hugged his arm and looked up at him. "Henry, don't you want one?"

He looked down at me. His eyes were deep, with something I couldn't read churning inside.

Finally, he reached out and ruffled my hair. "Listen to me. There is no need to rush." His voice was so soft and gentle that it was enough to make me hate it.

That night, he put an extra sugar cube in my milk. I guessed he was feeling guilty.

I finished it and smiled at him. "It's so sweet today."

His back stiffened for a moment as he took the cup away.

After the door closed, I took out the capsule I'd been hiding under my tongue all along. It was the antidote, stashed under my pillow ahead of time.

I swallowed it and closed my eyes.

The sixth milk sample would go to the lab tomorrow.

In two weeks, I'd have the full test report.

By then, that would be enough for me to have my hospital report, the milk breakdown, and the records of who came and went at No. 17 Lakeview Avenue.

Henry had been plotting for eight years. But he forgot one thing. All those years he chased after me, I kept turning him down.

When a woman kept turning down a great guy's advances, it was never only about not liking him.

It was because from the first day, I could tell that Henry didn't really care for me.