Chapter 4 - The Dinner Masquerade
By the time I returned home, the afternoon light was dying into bruised purple shadows across the living room rug. I sat in the armchair opposite the front door, motionless, staring at Eliam's bottle of blood pressure pills sitting on the kitchen counter.
When the front door clicked open at six-thirty, Eliam stepped inside with a weary sigh. He loosened his tie, tossing his keys into the porcelain bowl by the entryway.
"Hey, sweetheart," he called out, smiling warmly as he entered the living room. "Sorry I'm late. That regional quarterly review dragged on forever. My boss wouldn't stop nitpicking our projections."
I stared at him. The ease with which the lie rolled off his tongue was chilling. For eleven years, I had believed Eliam Vance was incapable of deceit. I had believed his transparency was the bedrock of our marriage.
"Sounds exhausting," I said softly, keeping my expression neutral.
"Brutal," he agreed, walking over and leaning down to kiss my forehead. His skin smelled of cold air, coffee, and the faint, unmistakable floral scent of lavender soap—the exact brand Clara used to insist on buying.
"Did you ever pick up your pills?" I asked, pointing toward the counter. "I texted you earlier, remember?"
Eliam blinked, his smile wavering for a fraction of a second before regaining its effortless charm. "Right. The medication. No, my colleague had some spares in his desk that matched my dosage, so I took one of his. Thanks for watching out for me, Eve."
A deliberate, calculated lie to cover an earlier lie.
"How was your day?" he asked, unbuttoning his cuffs as he moved toward the kitchen. "Did you manage to finish that client portfolio?"
"Eliam," I said, my voice cutting through the quiet room like a blade.
He turned, holding a glass of water, his brow furrowed in mild amusement. "Yes?"
"Who is in Room 104 at St. Jude's?"
May you like
The glass slipped from his fingers. It shattered violently against the hardwood floor, sending water and sharp shards of glass exploding across the kitchen.
***
