She Faked Her Death, So I Made It Real

My husband's beloved blood slave collapsed at my birthday feast, seemingly dead. He pressed his claws to my throat, demanding I pay with my bloodline. But then I heard whispers—between her and her demon. She'd drunk a Draught of Desiccation. A fake death. In two hours, she'd teleport out and return to destroy me. I smiled and ordered the obsidian coffin sealed. "Pour the molten lead. Nail it shut." Let's see if her demon can save her now.