If I was wrong, I was the paranoid, ungrateful daughter-in-law. If I was right, I was alone in a massive house with a man who was actively trying to drug me. I knew I couldn’t just throw it in the trash, and I certainly couldn’t drink it.

I needed to switch the glasses. “You know what, Walter? You’re right. I do need to relax,” I said, keeping my voice remarkably steady. I set the juice down on my nightstand. “Actually, Nathan asked me to find a specific file for him before I went to sleep.

I think I dropped my phone under the bed trying to look for it earlier. Could you hold this water for a second?” Before he could protest, I pointed to the far side of the room, near the heavy oak dresser. “I think I see it near your foot.

Could you grab it?” Walter sighed, clearly irritated by the delay, but his ego loved being of service. As he took two steps into the room and bent down to look in the shadows, my hands moved with terrifying speed. I grabbed the orange juice with the powder, swapped it with a nearly identical glass of plain orange juice I had brought up for myself an hour earlier, and shoved the tainted glass behind a stack of books on my desk.

I grabbed my safe glass and held it up just as he turned back around, empty-handed. “Never mind, it was in my pocket the whole time,” I said with a nervous laugh, raising the glass. “Cheers to a quiet night.” Walter’s eyes narrowed slightly, but seeing the glass in my hand seemed to satisfy him.

He took a long sip of his ice water, nodded once, and stepped backward into the hallway. “Sleep well, Hannah.

Don’t lock your door. In case of an emergency, you know.” He pulled the door shut behind him. The moment the latch clicked, I pressed my back against the wall and slid down to the floor, violently trembling.

I stared at the drugged glass hidden behind the books. What was in it? Why did he want me asleep? I sat there in the dark for what felt like hours, listening to the rain. About forty-five minutes later, I heard a loud, heavy thud from the floor below, followed by the sound of something shattering.

I crept to my door, slowly turning the handle to avoid making a sound. The hallway was pitch black. I tiptoed to the edge of the grand staircase and peered over the banister into the foyer. Down below, the light from Walter’s study was spilling out onto the hardwood floor.

Lying partially in the doorway of the study was Walter. He was slumped against the doorframe, completely motionless, breathing in heavy, ragged snores. Next to him was a shattered water glass.