Chapter 3

Ian stopped walking.

"Nina, the most important thing right now is keeping this pregnancy safe. Leave everything else to me."

On the way home, he took a call.

The number had no name attached.

After the caller said a few words, he instinctively lowered the volume.

"I can’t talk right now. Did you take the medication?"

A woman’s voice carried through the phone.

I couldn’t make out what she said next, but I heard her call him "Ian."

No one at his company used his name so familiarly.

Ian ended the call soon afterward.

I looked out the window and pretended I hadn’t heard.

At home, he sorted the medication from the hospital into a pill organizer.

He filled the morning and evening compartments and labeled them with the times.

He worked carefully, as though he’d done it many times before.

"I have something to do tonight. The housekeeper will make sure you take your medication."

"Is it work?"

"Yes."

"Who called you earlier?"

His hands paused.

"The project manager."

"A woman?"

"Nina."

He closed the pill organizer. "Don’t start suspecting everyone because of a charm."

I gave a small smile.

"I only asked a question."

He seemed to realize he’d overreacted. He leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"I’m sorry. I’ve been exhausted lately. When things settle down, I’ll spend more time with you."

At ten that night, another call came, and he hurried to leave.

Before he went, he poured me a glass of warm water and placed a tablet in my palm.

"Go to bed after you take it."

I stayed where I was after the door closed.

The tablet he’d given me was pale yellow.

But the tablets the doctor showed me that morning were white.

Moments earlier, I’d tucked the yellow tablet under my tongue and pretended to swallow it with the water.

Ian waited until he thought I’d taken it before picking up his car keys and leaving.

When his footsteps faded near the elevator, I rushed to the bathroom and spat the tablet into a tissue.

My saliva had dampened it. Its edges had begun to dissolve, leaving a faint bitter taste.

I opened the original box of medication from the hospital.

Every tablet left inside was white.

Then I opened the pill organizer Ian had filled.

The morning compartments held white tablets. The evening compartments held yellow ones.

My hands began to shake.

This wasn’t one tablet put in the wrong place.

Someone had deliberately replaced all the evening doses.

And since we came home from the hospital, Ian was the only person who had handled the pill organizer.

During my first pregnancy two years ago, he sorted my medication too.

I was so sick then that he placed each evening dose directly in my hand.

During my second pregnancy, fear kept me inside the house most of the time.

He put all my pregnancy medication in an organizer and watched me take it every day.

I used to think that was love.

Now those gentle moments felt like invisible hands closing around my throat.

I messaged my college friend Sophie Quinn.

She worked at a pharmaceutical testing lab.

I sent her a photo of the tablets and asked if she could help identify them.

Sophie called almost immediately.

"I can’t tell from a photo. Bring me the tablets tomorrow. I’ll have someone analyze what’s in them."

She paused, and her voice grew serious.

"Nina, you’re pregnant. Don’t take another tablet unless you know what it is. And don’t tell anyone about this yet."