“A checkup?” Jerry asked, his voice deathly quiet.
He walked over to Dr. Helen’s fallen medical bag, unzipped it, and dumped the contents onto the floor.
Among the stethoscopes and prescription pads, several small, unlabeled vials of clear liquid rolled across the marble.
“Or were you here to deliver the final dose, Helen? To make sure her heart stopped tonight.”
Dr. Helen’s face drained of all color. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She looked at Victoria, and in that single terrified glance, the entire conspiracy was confirmed silently.
Sometimes silence screams louder than any confession a guilty heart could speak.
Jerry turned his devastating gaze to his wife.
He remembered their vows. He remembered how she had promised to be a mother to Maya.
At the time, it had felt like care, devotion, a loving wife protecting a motherless child.
Now, those same memories twisted dark, revealing a monster wearing a mask of kindness to hide the greed rotting inside her.
“If this is false,” Jerry said, stepping so close to Victoria that he could smell the expensive perfume sweating off her skin, “swear on your life, Victoria. Look me in the eyes and swear you never knowingly harmed my daughter.”
Silence answered first.
