Chapter 3

My heart skipped a beat. A terrible feeling washed over me.

"Every time I go to his house for dinner, I sit right next to him. Under the table, my leg never leaves his."

"While his wife is busy running around the kitchen, we're practically on fire in the dining room."

"But the best part is the milk. Every time his wife throws a tantrum, he brings her a warm glass of milk to make peace."

Thinking back to the loving face and gentle words James used every time we had a cold war, I felt utterly disgusted.

How could a man be this vile? Trembling, I kept reading.

"His wife thinks it’s a sign of reconciliation, but in reality, there's a double dose of sleeping pills in that milk. Once she’s completely knocked out, I slip from the study into the master bedroom, and we go at it right next to her until dawn."

"Once, I even pulled her nightgown up on purpose. He was terrified, but I told him she wouldn't wake up. He called me a little psycho, but it only made him more turned on."

Below the post, the comments were filled with shock. Someone asked, "Did his wife never find out?"

Sophia replied: [Find out? She thought that milk was his way of making up. She drank it obediently every single time.]

[There was one time she didn't drink enough, and she rolled over in the middle of the night. He literally held a pillow over her face until her breathing went back to normal. Thrilling, right?]

Staring at those words, my stomach churned violently. I shoved the car door open and threw up on the pavement.

It was so sickening. I had actually loved this man.

That glass of milk... I had drank it for an entire year.

And every time I drank it, I would sleep like a corpse.

When I woke up the next morning, James would always kiss my forehead with that sweet smile of his. "Morning, babe. Did you sleep well?"

I had always assumed I was just exhausted from work.

Only now did I realize it was the chemical side effects of the drugs.

I remembered one night when he came home late and handed me the milk. While I was in the shower, I heard him on the balcony, whispering into his phone, "She just drank it. Give it an hour before you come over."

At the time, I thought he was talking about a work project.

I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug deep into my palms.

Since they chose to be monsters, they shouldn’t blame me for what was coming.

That very night, I ordered high-tech streaming gear and hidden cameras online, and made a phone call.

I waited until a time when I knew neither of them would be home, and went back to the house.

I walked into the master bedroom, staring at the bed where I had slept with him less than ten times in our entire marriage.

The bed he once claimed was "our sanctuary."

Now, it just made me want to vomit.

I pulled the devices out of my bag: pinhole cameras, voice recorders, and two infrared night-vision lenses.

I hid one behind the vase on the nightstand, pointing directly at the bed.

I mounted the other inside the slit of the ceiling light cover, giving a perfect overhead view of the entire room.

Once everything was set up, I lay down on the mattress and connected the feeds to my phone.

On my screen, the entire master bedroom was completely visible.

I saved the test footage, left the apartment, and pulled out my phone to text James.

In all the days I had been gone, he hadn't contacted me once.

[I'm sorry. I was too emotional last time. I'm coming home tomorrow night. Let's talk.]

Three seconds later, my phone vibrated.

James replied with three words: [Glad you understand. I have a surprise for you too.]

I turned off my phone, lay down on the hotel couch, and stared at the ceiling.

Tomorrow night.

Would be the end of those two pathetic excuses for human beings.