Chapter 1
Sophia James' husband, Thomas Grant, had just transferred 1.5 million to his mistress, Melissa Shaw, for a new apartment. A few seconds later, he handed Sophia a warm mug of hot chocolate.
His eyes looked soft and loving, but his fingers kept rubbing the life insurance policy that had just gone into effect.
"Here, honey, drink this while it's warm. I heated it up especially for you," he said.
In the living room, their five-year-old son, Joey, was playing with LEGOs on the carpet.
He suddenly looked up, and a voice seemed to come from nowhere. "Hey, Mr. System, is Dad going to use Mom's life insurance payout to buy a big diamond ring for that other lady?"
*****
The weekend sunlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, making everything feel warm and cozy.
But Sophia just felt cold.
That chill seemed to seep from her bones, crawling up her spine like a snake and coiling tight around her heart.
"Honey, you're spacing out. The chocolate's getting cold," Thomas said softly by her side.
He wore a dark gray lounge set, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, toned forearms.
In his hand was a plate with freshly toasted bread and a fried egg, its edges crispy and the yolk a perfect golden yellow, still runny in the center.
This was just his style; everything he did had to be flawless.
He was the perfect VP of a public company, the perfect husband, and the perfect father.
If it hadn't been for that voice just now, Sophia might have stayed lost in this perfect fairy tale forever.
Suddenly, a mechanical, icy voice slipped right into Sophia's mind. [Joey, I've detected that your trash father is putting on an act.
[He just crushed three sleeping pills into the chocolate in the kitchen. He wants your mom to fall asleep so he can video call his mistress in the study.
[I suggest you knock over that chocolate immediately.]
Sophia instinctively looked over at Joey, perched in his booster seat.
Five-year-old Joey was scooping oatmeal with his tiny spoon, his little legs swinging happily beneath him. A bit of oatmeal clung to the corner of his mouth.
He looked innocent and clueless, just like always.
But Sophia clearly heard the sweet, babyish reply in his head, 'Got it, Mr. System. I won't let bad daddy get away with it.'
Sophia's fingers suddenly tightened, her nails pressed painfully into her palm.
She felt a sharp pain, indicating that this was no illusion.
She realized she could hear Joey talking to some mysterious presence.
"Joey, why aren't you eating?" Thomas sat down and ruffled his son's hair, his own gaze soft and doting. "Is Mommy's oatmeal not good? Daddy will make it for you next time."
He smiled so warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with that easy charm that had fooled Sophia for seven years.
[Lie detected from the trash father.] The System's voice sounded in Sophia's head again. [He wasn't working late at the office last night. He was in room 8203 at the Harborview Hotel, hooking up with Melissa Shaw all night long.
[He still smells like the cigarette she smoked after they hooked up. He showered, but the smell is trapped in the crevices of his watch strap.]
A wave of nausea hit Sophia hard.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, pushed her chair back, and rushed to the bathroom.
"Honey, you okay?" Thomas called after her, his footsteps approaching.
Sophia gripped the sink, turned on the faucet, and let the cold water run.
When she looked up, her reflection stared back. It looked pale and shaken.
Seven years ago, she'd been the youngest senior analyst in the overseas market, at the top of her game.
Then she gave it all up for him, including her career and her ambition, willingly trading it in to be a good wife and mother.
She truly believed she'd married for love.
But it turned out she'd fallen headfirst into a carefully laid trap.
The woman in the mirror looked different now. The shock and confusion in her eyes were fading, replaced by something cold and sharp, like a blade pulled from its sheath after years of neglect.
'Thomas, since you want to play games, I'll join you for this grand performance. But this time, I'm the one calling the shots,' Sophia thought.
When she came out of the bathroom, her eyes were red.
She splashed some cold water on her face and put on a weak, apologetic smile. "I think I caught a chill last night," she said. "My stomach's a little upset."
She walked back to the table but didn't sit down. Instead, she leaned softly against Thomas. "Honey, could I have some warm water? The chocolate's too heavy for me right now. I can't drink it."
Thomas stiffened for just a moment, but then relaxed like nothing happened.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, his fingers tracing lightly over the thin silk of her pajamas. "Sure, you don't have to drink it," he said. "I'll get you some water."
He picked up the hot chocolate and turned to pour it down the sink.
The brown liquid swirled down the drain, disappearing without a trace. He covered his tracks smoothly, without a second thought.
'Wow, Mom's amazing. She totally dodged the poisoned chocolate,' Joey thought.
He kept his head down, pretending to focus on his broccoli while asking the System in his mind, 'Mr. System, scan for Dad's backup phone. Quick.'
[It's at the bottom of the cabinet by the door,] the System answered. [Inside the black golf bag. Second side zipper pocket, wrapped in a sports towel.
[The password is 1128, that woman's birthday.]