MY WIFE KILLED OUR THREE CHILDREN. I WAS SENT TO DIE

Chapter 10

Arthur chewed slowly, letting the sweet syrup and heavy oil coat his tongue. He swallowed with a deliberate, smooth gulp, his eyes fixed dead on Eleanor’s face.

Eleanor stood frozen beside the table, her breath caught in her throat. She stared at his neck, watching his throat move as he swallowed every single drop.

"Mmm," Arthur said softly, setting his fork down with a quiet clatter. "That’s really quite good, Eleanor. The syrup has a very rich flavor today."

Eleanor’s lips trembled. A sudden wave of intense panic and dark adrenaline hit her so hard her stomach churned. She grabbed her mouth with both hands, letting out a wet, choked gasp.

"Oh... oh God," Eleanor stammered, stepping backward away from the table. Her face had gone completely pale. "Arthur... I... I need to excuse myself."

Arthur tilted his head, watching her with a cool, unblinking gaze. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

"It’s... it’s the pregnancy hormones," Eleanor choked out, tears of wild anxiety springing to her eyes as she backed toward the hallway. "The smell of food... it’s making me vomit. Just eat your breakfast! Finish all of it!"

Before Arthur could answer, Eleanor turned on her heel and practically sprinted down the hall.

She slammed the bathroom door shut, locking it with a sharp click.

Inside the small room, Eleanor slumped against the sink, her heart hammering violently against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her hands shook so hard she could barely breathe. She stared at her own terrified reflection in the mirror, her mind screaming.

He ate it. He actually swallowed it.

Suddenly, her handbag—which she had clutched to her chest in her panic—began to vibrate continuously. The loud, sharp ringtone echoed against the bathroom tiles.

Eleanor scrambled to unzip the bag, pulling out her phone with slick, sweaty fingers. The caller ID on the screen read: Dr. Marcus Vance.

She hit accept and pressed the phone tight against her ear.

"Eleanor?" Marcus’s anxious voice boomed loudly from the speaker before she could even say hello. "Did he take it?! Is it done?!"

Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut, a suffocating mix of terror and utter disbelief washing over her. She pressed her back against the cold bathroom door, her voice dropping into an intense, trembling whisper.

"Marcus... he ate it," Eleanor gasped, her breath coming in fast, ragged hitches. "I put the whole dose in the pancakes just like you said. I watched him put the fork in his mouth. I watched him swallow it!"

On the other end of the line, Marcus let out a sharp, breathless gasp. "Good! Good! How is he reacting? Is he clutching his chest? Is he falling?"

"No!" Eleanor cried out quietly, her voice cracking with pure panic. "That’s why I’m calling you, Marcus! Nothing happened!"

The line went dead quiet for two long seconds.

"What do you mean, nothing happened?" Marcus asked, his tone dropping into a sharp, dangerous register.

"He just sat there!" Eleanor whispered frantically, tears spilling over her eyelashes. "He swallowed the poison, looked me straight in the eye, and told me the pancakes tasted good! He didn't choke! He didn't collapse! He’s still sitting out there at the dining table right now, eating like nothing is wrong!"

"That's impossible!" Marcus hissed through the phone, slamming his hand onto a desk in the background. "That dose is potent enough to stop an elephant's heart within sixty seconds! Are you sure you poured the right bottle, Eleanor?!"

"Of course I’m sure!" Eleanor sobbed out, gripping the sink edge until her knuckles turned white. "I took it right out of the secret pocket in my purse! I poured the whole thing over his food! Why isn't he dying, Marcus?! What is wrong with him?!"

"Calm down!" Marcus commanded, his voice tight with rising stress. "Keep your voice down!"

"How can I calm down?!" Eleanor’s voice broke in sheer terror. "He’s acting so strange, Marcus! Ever since yesterday, he looks at me like he knows everything! What if the poison didn't work?! What if he finds out what we’re trying to do?!"

"Listen to me!" Marcus snapped, taking a deep, heavy breath over the receiver to force his own authority back into place. "Panicking won't solve anything. If this dose failed, then the batch was diluted, or his body is somehow delaying the absorption. But we are not backing down now."

Eleanor held her belly with her free hand, her voice small and desperate. "What about the babies, Marcus? What about our children? If he realizes what’s going on, he’ll ruin us! He won't give us a dime!"

In her mind, those three little lives growing inside her were Marcus's legacy—the key to their brilliant, wealthy future together once Arthur was out of the picture.

"I know," Marcus said softly, his voice softening into a fake, comforting purr to keep her under control. "I know, my love. We have to keep our babies safe. I won't let that fool touch a single hair on your head, and I won't let him ruin our future. We are going to try another method."

"Another method?" Eleanor whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Like what?"

"Leave the house today," Marcus instructed sternly. "Come to my private clinic this afternoon. We will figure out another way to handle him—something quiet, something that doesn't leave room for mistakes. Just act normal for now. Pretend you're sick and stay away from him until he leaves for work."

"Okay..." Eleanor breathed out, her chest heaving. "Okay, Marcus. I trust you."

"I'll see you soon, Eleanor. Don't slip up."

The call disconnected. Eleanor stood in the quiet bathroom, taking deep, shaky breaths to regain her composure, trying to push the image of Arthur’s terrifying, calm smile out of her head.

Meanwhile, out in the dining room, Arthur sat alone at the head of the table.

He had finished the entire plate of pancakes, wiping his mouth neatly with a white napkin. He leaned back in his chair, staring toward the closed hallway door where Eleanor had hidden herself.

‘She really thought today was the day,’ Arthur thought, a cold, dark smirk touching the corner of his lips. ‘She’s probably in that bathroom right now, crying on Marcus's shoulder, trying to figure out why I'm still breathing.’

Suddenly, his cell phone on the table began to buzz violently, light flashing across the dark screen.