I saw the maid secretly drip something from a black bottle into my husband’s, the senator’s, cup and I thought he was being poisoned. I was about to burst in and save him, but I froze when I heard their conversation — it would have been better if it really had been poison.😱😱
I watched through the crack in the door as my maid took a small black bottle out of her bra and dropped a few drops into the cup. I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t scream.
“Oh God!” — flashed through my mind. — “That girl wants to harm my husband. She is going to poison him.”
I was already ready to rush into the dining room, shout “Poison!” and save the love of my life. But what happened next nailed my feet to the floor.
My husband entered the dining room — Senator Richard. He was wearing an impeccable suit that emphasized his status and power. He moved calmly and confidently, as if nothing in this house could slip out of his control.
The maid, Linda, placed the cup in front of him with a slight bow.
— Mr. Richard, your tea is ready, — she said, and there was a barely noticeable tremor in her voice.
I expected him to take a sip and immediately sense that something was wrong. I expected him to grimace, suspecting a strange taste.
But Richard only slowly looked at the tea. Then he raised his eyes to Linda and uttered a phrase that sent an icy shiver down my skin and I stood frozen in place…😨😱
Continuation in the first comment.👇👇
— Did you add everything that was needed? — Richard asked quietly, without touching the cup.
Linda nodded without raising her eyes.
— Yes, sir. It’s stronger than what you used before. Now there’s nothing to worry about. She will not get pregnant… and even if it happens — everything will end on its own.
He smiled with satisfaction and took a sip, as if he were drinking ordinary morning tea.
— Excellent. I’m tired of playing the role of a caring husband.
At that moment something inside me broke. What I heard shocked me; that image of my husband did not fit in my mind, I had never seen him like that.
All his words about how he dreamed of having a child. All the public declarations, the photographs, the promises.
He became a senator thanks to my family’s money, our connections, our support. I believed we were building a future together.
And he was simply using me.
Two years of trying. Two years of hope and pain. Hospitals, tests, sleepless nights. And every time he held my hand when I lost another pregnancy.
Now I understood: it was not fate and not medicine.
It was him.
He needed my money, my name, my status. But not me.
