“A slow-acting compound. If it were mixed into food or drink regularly, it would cause fatigue first, then organ damage. It would look like a worsening of an existing condition. By the time anyone suspected poisoning, it would be almost impossible to trace.”
Abigail felt sick.
Ruth had not simply betrayed Michael.
She had tried to kill him.
Slowly. Quietly. In a way that would make his decline look natural.
Michael did not fall apart. If anything, he became calmer.
“Run the full test,” he told Daniel. “I need an official report.”
Then he began planning Ruth’s end in his life with the same precision he once used to build his company.
When the full report arrived, he had everything he needed.
The affair.
The financial theft.
The private investigator’s evidence.
The poison.
The legal papers.
He asked Abigail to stay in the room when Ruth was called downstairs.
Ruth walked into the formal living room expecting a conversation and found Michael, Mr. Collins, and the investigator waiting.
She stopped.
Michael looked at her and said, quietly, “Sit down.”
She sat.
Then Michael said the words that ended everything.
