And I suddenly realized something terrifying.
This wasn’t the ending he had planned.
Which meant he might still try to finish it.
Right here.
Right now.
The police officers were only halfway across the ballroom when Daniel moved.
It happened so quickly that at first no one understood what he was doing.
He didn’t run.
He didn’t shout.
Instead, he reached for the nearest table and picked up a glass of water.
My breath caught in my throat.
For six years, Daniel had brought me a glass of water every night.
Every single night.
He held the glass up slightly and smiled again, but this time the smile was sharp, almost wild.
“You’re all acting like I’m some kind of monster,” he said loudly, looking around the room.
People stared.
The officers slowed but kept walking.
“Maybe my wife can help clear this up.”
My stomach tightened.
He stepped closer to me, holding the glass out.
“Wifey,” he said softly, his voice suddenly gentle again. “You trust me, don’t you?”
The room held its breath.
I looked at the glass.
Clear water.
Nothing visible.
But my mind replayed that night in the kitchen—the quiet measuring, the tiny bottle, the careful stirring.
A slow poison.
Something meant to weaken my heart over time so it would look natural.
Daniel tilted his head slightly.
“Go ahead,” he murmured. “Drink.”
The officers were only a few steps away now.
But Daniel wasn’t looking at them.
He was looking only at me.
There was a silent message in his eyes.
If you expose me, I’ll expose you too.
For a moment, I didn’t understand.
Then I realized.
If I refused to drink, the entire room would know.
The nightly water.
The poison.
The plan.
Daniel would go down—but the scandal would explode everywhere.
The foundation.
