The Truth Revealed
The next morning, after he left for work, I checked the kitchen drawer. The bottle was still there — half full, unmarked.
My hands shook as I placed it in a plastic bag and called my lawyer.
Within a week, I opened a safety deposit box, moved my savings, and changed the locks on my beach house.
That evening, I sat Ethan down and told him what the doctor had found.
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he sighed — not guilty, not regretful, just… inconvenienced.
“You don’t understand, Lillian,” he said softly. “You worry too much, you think too much. I just wanted you to relax… to stop aging yourself with stress.”
His words made my skin crawl.
“By drugging me?” I asked. “By taking away my choice?”
He only shrugged, as if it meant nothing.
That was the last night he ever slept under my roof.
