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

Chapter 7

The dim yellow light from the desk lamp burned into Arthur’s tired eyes, but he couldn't look away from the tiny bottle in his hand.

His knuckles were white as iron. His fingers dug into the hard plastic, almost crushing it. Printed right across the tiny prescription label was the official seal and signature of Dr. Marcus Vance.

Arthur sat frozen in his basement chair, his chest heaving with silent, heavy gasps.

How?

The question pounded against the inside of his skull like a sledgehammer. How could a woman I lived with for years... a woman who swore to love me... look me in the eye every morning while planning to put venom in my food? How could Marcus stand in my home, act like a professional doctor, and hand her the weapon to wipe me off the earth?

A terrible, morbid curiosity took hold of him.

With trembling fingers, Arthur slowly twisted the cap. The seal broke with a faint snap. He brought the rim of the bottle just an inch from his nose and took a tiny, cautious breath.

The stench slammed into his throat instantly.

It was a horrific, metallic odor—bitter, sour, and heavy, like rusted iron mixed with rotting chemical sludge. Just a single whiff made his stomach violently contract. A sudden wave of intense dizziness washed over his head, making his vision flicker.

Arthur snapped the bottle shut, coughing softly into his sleeve as he fought back a sudden surge of nausea.

"God..." he choked out, his voice a hoarse, ragged whisper in the empty dark. "It smells like death itself. You couldn't even wait for the world to fall apart, could you, Eleanor?"

He rested his foreheads on his trembling fists, staring down at the floor. The shock tore through his heart first, ripping away the last tiny shred of sentiment he still harbored for his past marriage. But as the nauseating smell cleared from his lungs, something else took its place.

The trembling stopped. His racing heart slowed down to a heavy, deliberate beat.

The horror dissolved into an icy, unshakeable resolve.

You think I'm the same gullible fool from before, Arthur thought, a cold, dangerous stillness settling over his entire body. You think you can just slip poison into my cup, watch me collapse on the floor, and take everything I built. Not this time.

Arthur stood up from his desk. He took off his slippers, standing in his bare socks so his footsteps wouldn't make a single sound against the floorboards.

Holding the bottle tight in his palm, he slipped out of the basement office and glided up the stairs like a shadow.

The main floor was pitch black. The only light came from the dim green numbers on the microwave display. The house was dead silent, save for the low, rhythmic hum of the refrigerator.

Arthur moved silently across the cold kitchen tile until he was standing right over the sink.

He turned the tap on just a tiny sliver—a quiet, steady stream of cold water. Then, with a firm flick of his wrist, he unscrewed the black cap once more.

He tipped the bottle upside down over the drain.

The thick, golden-brown liquid flowed slowly into the stainless steel bowl, swirling around with the water before disappearing into the dark pipes below. Arthur stood there in the quiet darkness, watching every single drop of poison wash away until the bottle was completely empty.

As the last drop hit the drain, a slow, dark smile crept across Arthur’s face. His eyes glinted in the faint microwave light.

"I am reborn," Arthur whispered into the sink, his voice filled with a chilling, absolute certainty. "I won't die again."

He didn't stop there. He turned the hot water tap on full blast, letting the boiling water flush out the drain pipes so no residue or odor remained. He held the empty bottle under the hot stream, thoroughly washing out the inside, shaking it clean, and rinsing it three times until the foul metallic smell was completely gone.

Once the bottle was spotless, Arthur opened the pantry cupboard. His fingers searched through the dark until they found a heavy glass bottle of kitchen vegetable cooking oil.

He brought both bottles to the counter. With steady, unhurried precision, he tilted the oil bottle and carefully poured it into the small prescription vial, filling it right up to the neck.

He held it up to the faint light.

The cooking oil was perfect. It shared the exact same golden-amber color, the exact same heavy texture, and the exact same thick consistency as the neurotoxin. To anyone looking at it with the naked eye, it was completely indistinguishable from the poison Marcus had handed Eleanor.

Arthur screwed the cap back on tight, wiping the sides clean with a paper towel.

"There," Arthur murmured, turning the bottle over in his hands. "A nice, healthy dose for breakfast."

He slipped out of the kitchen and moved into the dark dining room. Sitting on the side chair was Eleanor’s designer handbag.

Arthur unzipped the outer compartment, reached deep into the hidden inner lining, and slid the altered bottle straight back into its secret pocket. He pulled the zipper shut, adjusted the bag so it looked completely untouched, and backed away.

He walked upstairs, his socked feet floating over the steps.

He pushed open the master bedroom door. The room was warm, filled with the faint sound of Eleanor’s soft, steady breathing. She was curled up on her side of the large bed, fast asleep under the heavy duvet, her face peaceful and completely undisturbed.

Arthur stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, watching her in the quiet moonlight.

Sleep well, Eleanor, Arthur thought, his eyes devoid of any emotion. Enjoy your peace tonight.

He quietly pulled back the covers on his side and climbed into bed. He lay flat on his back, resting his hands over his chest, staring up at the dark ceiling.

His mind wasn't racing anymore. He felt no fear, no panic, no hesitation. A strange, thrilling sense of dark anticipation washed over him as he pictured what tomorrow morning would bring.

He couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she tried to kill him.

Arthur closed his eyes, let out a long, quiet breath, and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.