Chapter 3

Ashley was in the living room, perched on the edge of a velvet armchair, looking pale and interesting.

Ethan fussed over her, offering her a glass of water.

"Sarah, you took your time," Ethan said, his voice tight with displeasure.

"Ashley, darling, are you feeling better?"

Ashley gave a weak smile. "A little. It was just so sudden, so awful."

She looked at me, her eyes holding a familiar spark of malice.

"Sarah, I know you didn't mean for me to be so frightened."

I said nothing.

"Apologize to her, Sarah," Ethan commanded.

"I'm sorry you were frightened, Ashley," I recited, the words meaningless.

Later that week, at a small, intimate dinner party Ethan hosted for some "important" people, Ashley made her move.

Dessert was served, a rich, decadent chocolate torte.

And for me, a special plate.

Gourmet peanut brittle.

She knew about my severe nut allergy. Everyone who knew me knew.

"I had the chef make this just for you, Sarah," Ashley said, her voice sweet as poison. "I know how much you love unique treats."

Ethan was schmoozing with a potential investor across the room.

This was it. My chance.

No public scene, no obvious murder he' d have to explain. Just an accident.

I picked up a piece of the brittle.

Ashley watched me, a smug, triumphant look on her face.

I met her gaze and slowly, deliberately, put the brittle in my mouth.

I chewed and swallowed.

The reaction started quickly, the itching in my throat, the tightness in my chest.

Ethan glanced over, saw me struggling to breathe.

A flicker of something, alarm perhaps, crossed his face.

But then Ashley gasped dramatically, clutching her chest.

"Oh, Ethan, the stress... I think... I feel faint."

He was at her side in an instant, all concern. "Ashley! What is it?"

He didn't look back at me.

I was alone, gasping for air, the world starting to blur.

This had to be it. The hundredth.