"Why don't you have a sip first?" Blade suggested nonchalantly, holding his glass of liquor up to you.

Your blood went cold immediately upon hearing his suggestion — the color draining from your face.

This was bad, things were not supposed to go this way.

You put cyanide in his liquor for a reason; Blade was supposed to drink it first, not you. Murdering your own husband was supposed to be a breeze; it was your only escape from this godforsaken marriage.

How did he manage to catch on to your scheme? You made sure to be extremely cautious while plotting this against him — you were so certain you were alone while preparing the drink for him.

"You were boasting on how good this liquor would be a moment ago," he remarked. "What's got you so hesitant now?"

Oh, he definitely knew you were trying to murder him.