Chapter 1 - The Glass
I saw my mother-in-law tamper with my champagne less than twenty minutes after I married her son.
For one second, I thought I had imagined it.
The ballroom was full of candlelight, white roses, crystal glasses, and three hundred people who had spent the afternoon telling me how beautiful everything was.
Then I saw Doña Carmela’s hand move again.
She stood beside the bridal table with her gold handbag open.
A tiny bottle disappeared into her palm.
She looked toward me.
I turned away before she realized I had seen her.
My heart pounded.
What had she put in my drink?
A sedative?
Something stronger?
Something designed to make me collapse in front of every guest?
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I smiled.
If I confronted her now, she could deny everything.
So I waited.
The best man stood for the toast.
“To Anton and Clara,” he said. “May your marriage be strong, happy, and impossible to break.”
Everyone lifted a glass.
I leaned toward Anton.
“Look at the photographer near the back. I think he wants us to turn.”
Anton looked.
Carmela looked too.
Two seconds.
That was all I needed.
I switched our champagne glasses.
When Carmela faced me again, I raised mine.
“Cheers, Mama Carmela. To our happy family.”
Her smile widened.
She thought she had won.
Then she drank from the glass that had been mine.
All of it.
At first, nothing happened.
Then her cheeks flushed.
Her forehead dampened.
She pressed one hand to the table.
Anton frowned.
“Mom?”
“I’m fine.”
She reached for a napkin.
Her handbag slipped from her chair.
A tiny bottle rolled onto the carpet.
I picked it up.
Carmela saw it in my hand.
Her face changed.
“Give me that.”
I stepped back.
“What did you put in my champagne?”
Anton looked between us.
“What?”
Carmela’s knees buckled.
She collapsed before she could answer.
As guests screamed for help, I opened her handbag.
Inside was a folded document.
My name was typed across the top.
CLARA REYES MERCER — TEMPORARY MEDICAL INCAPACITY AUTHORIZATION.
The signature at the bottom looked exactly like mine.
May you like
Except I had never signed it.
I looked across the ballroom at the untouched wedding cake and the flowers my father had paid for. Ten minutes earlier, I had been worried about speeches and photographs. Now I was wondering whether someone I had just called family had planned to take away my ability to speak for myself.
