The Chronic Poison Beneath His Tenderness

In the third year of my marriage to Adrian, I accidentally saw him having sex with my adopted sister on the home security footage.

Their voices came through the monitor loud and clear:

"When are you finally going to divorce that woman? I'm tired of sneaking around."

Adrian stroked her hair, his eyes carrying a coldness and calculation I had never seen before:

"Soon. Her sense of smell is already deteriorating. Once she can't smell a thing, can't write new formulas, and has no value left to exploit, I'll divorce her."