Chapter 2: What He Put in the Glass Every Night
Hidden beneath that pier, soaking and shaking, I looked at my brother and barely recognized him.
The man I had fed, bathed, and pushed in a wheelchair for fifteen years was standing on his own two feet like it was nothing.
"How long?" I whispered.
"About three years," Tobias said.
"Around the same time Garrett started making you that milk every night."
Something cold moved through me that had nothing to do with the river.
"What was in it, Tobias?"
He didn't answer right away.
He reached into the waterproof pouch and pulled out a small glass vial.
The liquid inside was colorless.
"I found this in his coat pocket eight months ago.
I had it tested."
My hands were shaking.
"What is it?"
"A compound that causes gradual nerve damage." He looked at me.
"Rosalind, he wasn't just trying to finish you today.
He's been doing it slowly.
For years."
I couldn't breathe.
"The fatigue," I said.
"The memory problems.
The doctor said it was stress—"
"It wasn't stress."
I pressed my back against the concrete pillar.
Three years of warm milk.
Three years of him watching me get weaker.
Three years of Penelope knowing.
"There's something else," Tobias said quietly.
He pulled a folded document from the same pouch.
I recognized the letterhead immediately.
It was from our family's shipyard.
But the signature at the bottom wasn't mine.
---
What Rosalind saw on that document changed everything she thought she knew about her own company.
The full story — including what Garrett and Penelope had already set in motion — is in the link below.
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Read the full ending before it gets taken down.
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