Chapter 1: The Antidote

If my cousin hadn’t been drugged that afternoon, would I still be Anna Wright, or just Anna Nobody? The question haunts me, echoing in those quiet moments when I replay that day over and over, searching for a way I could have changed the outcome.

My aunt, wild-eyed with panic, shoved me forward as the supposed antidote.

She didn’t even look at me. Her hands fluttered like startled birds, her voice trembling but determined. One push, and suddenly I was standing in a place I never belonged. My hands turned clammy. I wanted to scream that I wasn’t a cure—I was just a girl who wanted to be seen.

A girl like me could never marry into the mayor’s family—not in this town.

Let’s be honest. I’m the girl people forget about at Sunday service, the one who blends into the background at the Fourth of July parade. Nobody remembers my name, but Aunt saw me as a tool—a means to fix a family crisis.

I’ve been married to my cousin for three years now, and he treats me like I’m invisible.

Three years is a long time to share a roof with someone who acts like you’re a lamp or a coat rack. He barely nods at me in the mornings, and most nights, I hear his footsteps fade upstairs, knowing he won’t join me until late, if at all.

I can tell he blames me for not having a child.

Sometimes, I catch him staring out the window at the neighbor’s kids with a look I can’t quite read—maybe longing, maybe disappointment. In a town like ours, gossip spreads faster than wildfire, and our childlessness is a favorite topic at the salon.

So, I did something crazy. I planned to find him two beautiful women.

It sounds wild, but I thought maybe if I helped him find someone better—someone prettier, more alive—he’d finally be happy. Maybe the rumors would stop, and our home wouldn’t feel so heavy.

But when he found out—always so cold and distant—he threw me onto the bed in broad daylight and punished me without mercy.

He’s usually as distant as the stars, but that day, something inside him broke. He didn’t care that sunlight streamed through the curtains or that the house was empty except for us. His anger was fierce and sudden, and I was caught in the storm.

"Will you dare do it again next time?"

His voice was low and raw, the words more warning than question. My skin stung, my pulse drummed in my ears, drowning out every reasonable thought. I couldn’t speak—only stare, wide-eyed, into the unknown.