Chapter 3 - The Dinner Trap
“What are you doing down here in the dark?”
Julian’s voice came from behind a stack of storage crates. He stepped into the dim light of aisle three, his expression a mask of forced, jovial confusion, though his eyes darted suspiciously from the storage lockers to Morgan’s face.
Morgan forced her breathing to remain slow and steady. She stood up, brushing a speck of dust off her denim jeans with calculated nonchalance.
“I was looking for my winter boots,” Morgan said, meeting his gaze without a flinch. The terror she had felt moments ago had transmuted into something much sharper: pure, unadulterated ice. “The weather report says a cold front is coming in from Canada next week. I wanted to drag them upstairs before it snows.”
Julian stared at her, searching her expression for any sign of deception. He stepped closer, the faint, chemical smell of his cologne washing over her.
“You came down to the basement in your work blouse to look for boots?” he asked, a subtle edge of mockery sharpening his tone.
“I forgot I left them in the back of the locker,” Morgan replied smoothly, gesturing vaguely toward cage 4B. “It’s messy down here, Julian. You really need to organize this junk instead of hoarding old computer parts.”
Julian’s jaw tightened. For a second, a flash of genuine menace crossed his features—the mask slipping to reveal the predator underneath. But then he forced a chuckle, wrapping a heavy, suffocating arm around her shoulders.
“You’re right, honey. I’ll clear it out this weekend,” he said, steering her firmly toward the basement exit stairs. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs. I ordered Thai takeout from that place you like on Elm Street. We’re going to have a nice, relaxing evening.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Morgan said, her voice dripping with a terrifying sweetness that Julian was too arrogant to recognize as poison.
That evening, sitting across from him at their small kitchen dining table, Morgan watched every movement he made.
Julian was in high spirits. He poured her a glass of red wine—Cabernet Sauvignon, her favorite—pushing the glass across the wooden table with an eager, almost manic smile.
“Drink up, Morgan,” he urged, resting his chin on his hands. “You look stressed lately. You need to unwind.”
Morgan looked down at the dark, ruby-red wine.
Had he added something to the glass while she was in the bathroom washing her hands? Had he brought home another dose of thallium, dissolved effortlessly in alcohol?
She didn't flinch. She picked up the wine glass by the stem, swirling the liquid lazily against the crystal rim, catching the overhead light.
“To us, Julian,” she toasted, her voice steady as a rock. “And to... big changes coming very soon.”
Julian’s eyes lit up with predatory triumph. He raised his glass, clinking it against hers with a sharp, echoing ring. “To big changes, sweetheart. You won't regret trusting me.”
Morgan brought the rim of the glass to her lips, tilted it slightly as if taking a sip, and let a single drop touch her tongue before setting the glass back down on the table with a quiet click.
May you like
She didn't swallow a single drop.
Julian, entirely convinced his trap was closing, smiled wider and dug into his pad Thai, completely blind to the fact that the legal net around him was already drawing tighter by the hour.
