The Vitamin He Gave Me

Chapter 4 The Shattered Illusion

The next afternoon, a white folder waited between us on Julian's desk. My full name and the lab reference number were printed on its tab. He pushed it toward me and pointed to three marked lines.

*Lorazepam.* A potent benzodiazepine.

*Chronic Administration.* A small dose, repeated long enough to accumulate.

*Induced Anhedonia.* The inability to feel pleasure.

*Conditioned Aversion Response.*

The second page covered Jessica's aromatherapy oil. The lab had separated its ingredients and tested how they reacted with the drug found in my sample.

*Catalyzing Agent. Enhances absorption and efficacy of benzodiazepines when inhaled.*

“The pill and your blood sample match,” Julian said. “The dose is low enough to hide ordinary sedation. Repeated use can flatten pleasure, worsen depression, and train the aversion you described.”

He tapped the second page. “The oil increases absorption when inhaled. Whoever selected these substances understood how they would work together over time.”

I ran my thumb over the printed date and checked it twice. The lab had found long-term exposure, not one accidental dose. Mark had handed me every tablet himself and waited for my mouth to open.

Five years of apologies crowded into the office at once: the vacations I had ruined, the nights I had cried, the doctors Mark said had failed me. I stood, said “Excuse me,” and reached Julian's private washroom before I was sick.

Nothing came up after the first minute except bile and water. I stayed over the porcelain bowl until my arms hurt, then sat against the cold tile and waited for the shaking to stop. At the sink, I rinsed my mouth twice.

My wedding ring caught the bathroom light when I reached for a towel. Mark had chosen the diamond and called it proof that someone could love all of me. The skin beneath the band had gone pale after five years.

I worked the tight band over my knuckle, leaving a red scrape behind. The stainless-steel bin was empty except for a tissue. I opened my hand, and the ring struck the bottom once.

Julian was by the window when I returned. He had turned the blinds toward the office across the street. He handed me water without asking what happened to the ring and waited until I drank.

“I can make Mark disappear,” he said. “There would be no body and no trail.”

The offer should have frightened me. Julian's face gave no sign that he was joking. I took another drink and pictured Mark simply gone, his chair empty at breakfast, with no one left to answer for the past five years.

“No. He would miss the consequences.”

Julian's eyes stayed on mine.

“I want the board to hear what he did, and I want Jessica standing beside him when they hear it. I want Mark alive when the police take his name, his money, and his freedom.”

“Then you have to go home and let him believe you still trust him.”

I set the glass down. “Tell me what you need.”

That night, Mark met me at the door and folded me into his arms. His aftershave and the starch in his shirt were painfully familiar. I counted to two before returning the embrace with one hand.

“I feel better today,” I said. “Clearer.”

His hold tightened with relief. He pulled back to study my face, searching for the shame and gratitude he had trained me to show whenever he praised my progress.

“I've neglected the final details for the banquet. Let me handle the guest list from here. I want it perfect.”

“Whatever you want, love.” Triumph showed before he hid it behind a kiss to my hair. He handed me the guest binder and headed for his study with a drink.

I waited until his door closed, then opened the hidden recording app on my phone.