No one noticed. But my heart was pounding like a war drum.
Ten minutes later, Marcus called for another toast. We all raised our glasses, crystal chiming softly in the candlelight. Sophie took a large sip of what had once been meant for me.
Within minutes, she pressed a hand to her stomach. “I… I don’t feel—” She broke off, face paling. Without another word, she stood abruptly and rushed out of the room.
The chatter around the table faltered. Thomas jumped up to follow her. A couple of friends exchanged worried glances.
Marcus’s face drained of color, his eyes darting between the door Sophie had vanished through and — very briefly — me.
It wasn’t the look of a man worried for his sister-in-law. It was the look of someone whose plan had just gone very, very wrong.
Marcus disappeared a few minutes later, slipping out while guests busied themselves with dessert. I gave him a head start, then quietly followed.
