Chapter 3

Once I was out the door, I messaged Evan James, my law-school classmate who'd become an attorney. I sent him the transfer records and the recording of the fight that had just happened, and asked him what my odds were if I filed for divorce over something like this.

Evan replied fast: Hiding marital assets plus infidelity. If the evidence holds up, there's a strong chance the other side walks away with a reduced share or nothing at all, and you can also claim damages for emotional distress.

Thinking back on everything that had just happened in that house, my chest went tight. I coughed twice and quickly pulled out my inhaler and gave it a spray.

Looking at the little bottle in my hand, something suddenly came back to me.

Starting last month, I'd felt like the inhaler wasn't working the way it used to. Every time I used it, my chest still felt heavy. At the time I'd chalked it up to too many late nights making the condition worse.

Now, though, I wondered if maybe…

I shook my head. I didn't dare follow that thought.

My mother recovered well after the surgery. Within three days she was moved to a regular room.

I worked at the office during the day and went straight to the hospital afterward to sit with her, run off my feet the whole time. So I rented a short-term apartment near the hospital and didn't go back to that house.

A week later, the company had a proposal for a ten-million-dollar project, a major client I'd been cultivating for half a year. It mattered enormously.

That morning I was rushing and left my inhaler back at the apartment, so I drove all the way back to get it.

The moment I had it, I hurried to the office, and before the meeting I even gave myself two extra sprays, afraid I'd have an attack if I got nervous.

Halfway through the meeting, right as I got to the core of the plan, my chest suddenly went tight. Breathing got harder and harder, like a hand was clamped down on my windpipe.

Something's wrong, I thought, and quickly took out the bottle and sprayed twice more toward my throat.

But strangely, there wasn't the slightest relief. If anything, the wheezing got worse. My vision started to go black, and the voices around me drifted further and further away.

"Lorraine? Lorraine, what's wrong?"

"I think she's having an asthma attack! Call an ambulance!"

My coworkers' voices were a chaotic blur. Before I lost consciousness, there was only one thought in my head: the medicine's wrong!

When I came to again, I was lying in a bed in the ER.

My best friend, Eleanor, sat at my side, her eyes red.

When she saw me open my eyes, she let out a breath. "You're finally awake. You scared me to death!"

"The doctor said a few minutes later and you'd have been gone!"

"What happened to you? How do you grab the wrong inhaler?"

I asked hoarsely, "There was something wrong with the inhaler I carry?"

Eleanor picked up the bottle beside the bed and handed it to me. "The doctor said there's no asthma medicine in there at all. It's just an ordinary vitamin C spray! Were you careless and grabbed the wrong one?"

I took the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and looked inside.

It was the brand I always used, identical on the outside, but the medicine inside had been swapped out.

A chill shot through my whole body.

This bottle, I kept on the nightstand at the apartment the whole time.

And in that stretch of time, the only people who'd been to the apartment I was renting were Piers and Deborah.

Last week the two of them, mother and son, had come over there and flat-out ordered me to move back home, the whole point being that they wanted me to stop making trouble and, while I was at it, wait on that pregnant Lauren.

I'd had to call the building's security to get the two of them thrown out!

Now that I thought about it, Deborah had stood in front of my nightstand for quite a while that day.

I was discharged that afternoon and went straight back to the old house.

I pushed open the door. Deborah was trimming vegetables, Lauren sat on the couch eating fruit, and Piers wasn't home from work yet.

Seeing me come in, Deborah said in that snide tone of hers, "So you still know your way back? I figured you'd died out there somewhere!"

Lauren, all lady-of-the-house, said, "You're back? Come, sit!"

I ignored Lauren and said coldly to Deborah, "My inhaler. You switched it, didn't you?"

Deborah's hands paused over the vegetables. She put on an innocent face. "I don't know anything about that. You don't put your own things away, and now you're asking me?"

I took a step forward and stared into her eyes. "Besides you and Piers, no one's been in my bedroom."

"The doctor said the thing was full of vitamins. I had an asthma attack at the office today. I almost died in that meeting room."

Seeing she couldn't hide it anymore, she went shrill. "So I switched it, so what? What's the big deal?"

"And look at you, you're fine, aren't you? You didn't die!"

I stared at her, unable to believe it. "Deborah, an acute asthma attack can kill someone. This is attempted murder!"

She slapped her thigh and shouted, "What would an old woman like me know? Your body's weak, and whose fault is that?"

We were still going at it when Piers got home.

The second she saw him, Deborah threw herself at him, wailing. "Piers! Your wife's bullying me!"

"All because I touched one of her bottles, she says I'm a murderer, wants to have me hauled off to prison…"

Piers hurried to hold her up, then turned and frowned at me. "Lorraine, are you done making a scene? My mom didn't understand. Do you really have to blow it up like this?"

I almost laughed from the anger. "Piers, your mother swapped my inhaler for vitamins. She was clearly trying to hurt me."

"I almost died at the office today, and you think 'she didn't understand' just makes it go away?"

He said impatiently, "Well, you're standing here just fine, aren't you?"

"Worst case, I'll buy you a new bottle. What's the big deal. All this arguing, day in and day out, aren't you tired of it?"

"My mom's getting on in years. Can't you cut her some slack?"

I gave a cold laugh. "Piers, let me ask you this. The medicine switch, did you have a hand in it too?"

"Otherwise how would your mother, an old woman from the country, know which vitamin bottle looks the same as an inhaler?"

His eyes flickered, and then he snapped, "What are you talking about! Lorraine, don't go slinging accusations!"

His reaction was so strong it only confirmed what I'd guessed.

Looking at this man in front of me, I suddenly felt like I didn't know him at all.

Three years of marriage, and he could stand there and watch his mother switch my medicine, watch me go to my death.

I didn't argue anymore. I picked up the bottle and put it in my bag.

Calmly, I said, "Remember what you both said today. Don't regret it later."

With that I turned and walked out. Behind me came Deborah's cursing. "Who does she think she is, giving people attitude. If you're leaving, then never come back!"

I didn't look back.

Downstairs, I called Evan and went through the whole thing about the switched medicine.

Evan said, "Keep the bottle. There should be fingerprints on it."

"Also, it'd be best to get a recording of them admitting out loud that they switched the medicine on purpose. That's much more convincing."