Chapter 6
Arthur pulled his hand out of the drawer, holding a heavy, black leather-bound journal. The cover was worn at the edges, the kind of professional ledger used for accounting or record-keeping rather than a personal diary. He stood by the pale pink light of the bedside lamp, flipping the cover open. The first page was filled with neat, precise handwriting—Elena’s handwriting.
Date: October 14.
Dosage adjusted: 0.5 mg. Patient showing increased resistance to morning cognitive tests. Recommend increasing evening administration to ensure compliance during property transfer phase.
Arthur’s breath hitched. Property transfer phase? He flipped the page frantically. Name after name, date after date filled the columns. It wasn't just a record of sedatives given to Lily; it was a meticulously calculated timeline of medical suppression, paired with notes on his own behavioral patterns—when he worked late, when he slept deeply, and when he was most susceptible to suggestion. There were references to bank account numbers, signatures forged on secondary insurance policies, and legal documents regarding the deed to the house, all routed through an overseas trust fund Arthur had never heard of.
"Daddy? What is that?" Lily’s small voice broke the silence of the room.
"Nothing, sweetheart. Just an old notebook," Arthur lied smoothly, closing the book with a quiet thud and sliding it into the waistband of his trousers beneath his shirt.
The pieces of the puzzle clicked together with terrifying clarity. Elena hadn't married him out of love or a desire to rebuild a broken family. She had targeted him—a grieving widower with a vulnerable child and a sizeable inheritance from his late first wife. By keeping Lily perpetually sick and confused, Elena had manufactured a household dependent entirely on her authority, while quietly draining his assets and positioning herself as the sole beneficiary of his estate.
A soft knock sounded at the bedroom door.
Arthur froze. He motioned for Lily to stay silent under the covers, stepping softly across the floor until he stood directly behind the wooden panels.
"Arthur?" Elena’s voice floated through the crack, smooth, sweet, and entirely chilling. "I brought some fresh herbal tea for you. You must be exhausted from sitting in here all night. Let's talk downstairs like civilized adults. There’s no need to lock yourself away from me."
"I'm fine, Elena," Arthur called out, keeping his voice steady through sheer willpower. "Just resting with Lily."
"The doctor called back while you were distracted," Elena continued, her tone shifting subtly, losing its sugary edge and revealing a sharp, metallic edge beneath. "He said the initial screening of the milk came back inconclusive. He suggested we drop the matter before it causes unnecessary friction between us. You wouldn't want to make a scene over a misunderstanding, would you, Arthur?"
Arthur’s hand gripped the doorknob. The lab results wouldn't be ready until evening; Elena was lying about the doctor’s call to test him, to see if he would crumble under pressure.
May you like
"I'll be down in a few minutes, Elena," Arthur said firmly.
Outside the door, the silence stretched for a long, agonizing moment. Then, the soft rustle of satin pajamas faded down the hallway as Elena walked away. Arthur let out a long breath he didn't realize he’d been holding. He pulled the black ledger from his waistband, looking down at the incriminating pages. He had the proof now, but staying in this house any longer was a deadly gamble.
