On our wedding night, I had to give up my bed to my mother-in-law after everyone insisted she was "too drunk" to stay anywhere else.

Diane answered before the second ring.

"I was about to call you," she said.

"Julian just told me there was another woman.

Before me.

Her name was Sophie.

Victoria did the same thing to her and Sophie found out and called off the wedding."

A pause.

"So this is a pattern."

"Yes."

"Elena, I looked Victoria up while you were at the reception."

I moved to the window so I could see the hallway.

Julian was still there, his back to me, his voice too low to hear.

"And?" I said.

"She's done this before.

Not just the ritual.

She's been involved in ending two of Julian's relationships that I can find.

One woman moved away entirely — I found an old social media post where she mentioned a controlling future mother-in-law and then her account went quiet.

The other one is Sophie.

I found her."

My hand tightened on the phone.

"You found Sophie?"

"She's in Edinburgh now.

She has a small business there.

She posted something three years ago about trusting your instincts when a family shows you who they are." Diane paused.

"I sent her a message."

"Diane—"

"I know.

I know.

But Elena, if Victoria has done this to multiple women, Sophie may know things you don't.

Things Julian hasn't told you.

Things Julian may not even know."

Julian turned in the hallway.

I stepped back from the window.

"I have to go," I said.

"Don't do anything else yet.

Let me think."

I set the phone down as Julian came back into the kitchen.

He looked at the table.

At the vial.

At me.

"Mom just wanted to check we were settled," he said.

"Of course."

He sat down.

He reached across the table and put his hand over mine.

"Elena.

I know this has been a terrible start.

I know I handled it badly.

But I need you to believe me when I tell you that my mother loves me and she was trying, in her own way, to protect our marriage."

"By performing a ritual in our bedroom without my knowledge."

"By doing the only thing she knows how to do." He squeezed my hand.

"She's not a bad person.

She's just — she holds on too tightly.

She always has.

My father died when I was nine and I've been all she has since then.

I know that's not an excuse.

But it's the truth."

I looked at his hand over mine.

"Julian," I said.

"Did she ever do anything to Sophie beyond the ritual?"

He frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean did she interfere in your relationship with Sophie in other ways.

Did she say things to her, do things, try to push her out?"

"She and Sophie didn't get along.

Mom thought Sophie was too independent.

Too focused on her career."

"Did she do anything specific to end that relationship?"

He pulled his hand back slightly.

"Why are you asking about Sophie?"

"Because you told me your mother performed this same ritual on your previous wedding night and that Sophie found out and left.

I want to understand what actually happened."

"Sophie found out about the ritual and overreacted.

She decided it meant my mother would always come first.

She ended things."

"And you think that was Sophie overreacting."

"I think Sophie didn't understand my family."

I looked at him for a long moment.

"And what do you think I'm doing right now?" I asked quietly.

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

"I'm not overreacting," I said.

"I'm asking questions.

There's a difference."

He stood up and went to the sink.

He ran the tap and stood with his back to me, the water going.

"I love you," he said.

"I chose you.

I married you.

Whatever happened with Sophie, whatever my mother does or doesn't do — I am here.

In this kitchen.

With you."

It was the right thing to say.

It was said with what felt like genuine feeling.

And yet.

I thought about the way he had looked at his mother before answering me that morning.

I thought about *she still has it*, spoken low in the hallway.

I thought about Sophie in Edinburgh, quiet on social media, posting about trusting your instincts.

"I'm going to bed," I said.

"We can talk more tomorrow."

He turned from the sink.

"Elena—"

"I'm tired, Julian.

It's been a long two days."

He nodded slowly.

"Okay."

I took the vial upstairs with me.

I put it in the inside pocket of my travel bag, the one with the zip that locked.

Then I sat on the edge of the bed — the same bed, the sheets changed now by the cleaning service that had come through while the guests were leaving — and I looked at my wedding ring.

My phone lit up on the nightstand.

A message from an unknown number.

Edinburgh area code.

*Hi Elena.

My name is Sophie.

Your sister reached out to me.

I wasn't going to reply.