“I let the pill rest on my tongue, then slid it under my cheek and forced a sleepy smile. ‘Goodnight, love,’ my husband whispered, kissing my forehead as always. Minutes later, I heard the bedroom door creak open again. ‘She’s asleep,’ he murmured. But when I cracked my eyes open and saw who was walking into the room behind him, my blood ran cold… and I realized the pills were the least scary part.”

I went back to the bedroom and carefully closed the door. I had to act immediately, but without letting them know I already knew. I opened my phone and sent three quick messages: one to Marta, my best friend; another to Sergio, my father’s lawyer; and another to my cousin Raquel, a Civil Guard officer stationed in another city, but always on the lookout. I simply wrote: “I’m in danger. Javier is drugging me. I have a recording. If I don’t answer before 10 a.m. tomorrow, come to my house or call the police.”

Then I hid the recording in the cloud, forwarded the files to an email address Javier didn’t know about, and put the pill in a small bag inside the lining of my purse. The hardest part was still to come: surviving breakfast and pretending I was still the docile, confused wife he thought he controlled.

At seven in the morning, Javier entered the spotless kitchen, smiling, with freshly made coffee and a white folder in his hand.

“Honey,” she said, as if nothing had happened. “Then we’ll have breakfast and you can sign some papers for me, okay?”

Part 3

I looked up at him with the best expression of weariness I could muster. “Of course,” I murmured, bringing a hand to my temple. “I didn’t sleep well.” Javier smiled, satisfied. He poured me coffee, too kind, too calm, as if the night before he hadn’t rummaged through my things with his sister to steal the life out of me. The white folder remained on the table, a few inches from my hand

“It’s just a formality,” he said. “To reorganize some accounts and expedite the sale of the house.”

“The sale?” I asked, looking at the paper without touching it.

“We already talked about it,” she replied quickly. “You don’t remember because you’ve been very distracted lately.”

That phrase confirmed to me that she would continue using it until it destroyed me. I slowly opened the folder. There were several documents mixed together: a bank authorization, a draft power of attorney, and an application related to the property. My signature was already forged on one of the pages, a crude imitation, but enough to show intent. I felt rage finally overcome fear.

At that moment the doorbell rang.

Javier frowned. “Are you waiting for someone?”