I woke up in a cold sweat.

It was true. My husband had recently bought me a dress, and when the seamstress brought it back, I cut the lining open and froze in horror.

Jessica Parker, known to everyone as Jess, woke with a sharp gasp, as if she’d been violently ejected from dark water onto the surface. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might leap right out of her chest. She gulped at the air, feeling the damp cotton of her nightgown clinging to her back, soaked with sweat.

Her hand fumbled for the lamp switch. The room flooded with a soft, warm light.

Next to her, on his side of the king-size bed, Daniel “Dan” Parker slept peacefully. He was lying on his side, turned toward the wall, and didn’t even stir at her sudden awakening.
Jess listened to his even breathing, trying to calm herself, but she was trembling inside.

A dream. It was only a dream.

But why was it so terrifying?

She carefully slipped out of bed, trying not to wake her husband, and walked on unsteady legs to the kitchen. Her hands shook as she poured water into a glass. She took several sips, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t budge.

She sank into a chair at the table, dropped her head into her hands, and closed her eyes—only to snap them open again.

The vision from the dream instantly reappeared.

It was her father. Her daddy. The man who had died from a heart attack three years ago.

He’d stood in the doorway of their master bedroom exactly as she remembered him, in his favorite gray sweater—the one she had knitted for him for his sixtieth birthday. His face was serious, even stern, and his eyes stared right at her with piercing alarm.

“Jess,” he said softly.

But his voice had sounded so clear, as if he were truly standing there.

“Don’t wear the dress from your husband. You hear me? Don’t wear that dress.”

He repeated the words three times, never taking his eyes off her, and then slowly dissolved into the darkness, as if he had never been there at all.

Jess woke with a scream that got trapped somewhere in her throat and never made it out.

She rubbed her temples, trying to banish the haunting image.

What nonsense, she told herself. Just a dream. A common nightmare before an exciting day.

Tomorrow was her fiftieth birthday. Her daughter Madeline and her family would be there. Friends would gather. A table had been reserved at the Blue Ridge Tavern.

Of course she was overwrought. That’s why she’d dreamt all that foolishness.

But why about the dress?

Jess shuddered, clutching the glass tighter.

The dress.

Two weeks ago, Dan had ceremoniously presented her with a large box tied with a satin ribbon. Inside lay a gorgeous evening gown, deep emerald green—her favorite shade. The fabric was special, shimmering in the light, and the cut flattered her figure while remaining elegant and modest.

“This is for your celebration,” Dan had said, smiling. “I ordered it from that seamstress Chloe recommended. Ms. Evelyn Davis, I think. She said she’d account for all your measurements. I want you to be the most beautiful woman at your fiftieth.”

Jess had been moved to tears. Dan had never been a particularly romantic man, always practical and levelheaded. In their twenty years of marriage, she had grown used to his gifts being useful and thoughtful, but without much flair.

And now—such attention, such care.

Though there had been something strange about his insistence.

“You absolutely must wear this dress,” he’d repeated several times. “I want everyone to see what a beautiful wife I have. No other dress will do, you understand? This is a special day.”

She had joked it off then.

“Of course I’ll wear it. How could I not with a gift like this?”

But something in his voice, in the way he looked at her when he spoke about the dress, had made her feel a slight discomfort.

However, she had immediately dismissed the feeling.

Dan just wants everything to be perfect. That’s why he’s anxious, she had told herself.

Jess got up from the table and walked to the window. Pre-dawn darkness still pressed against the glass. Only the eastern sky was beginning to lighten. The clock on the microwave showed 5:00 a.m.

She still had an hour before her alarm, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. Her father’s image wouldn’t leave her head.

She remembered him in life—caring, wise, always sensing when something was wrong with her. Even when she was well into her thirties, he’d still treated her like a little girl who needed protection.

“Dan’s a good guy,” her father had said after their wedding. “He’s reliable. But, Jess, always listen to your heart. If something feels off, if there’s worry inside, don’t ignore it. A woman’s intuition is rarely wrong.”

Was this intuition now? Or just nerves and exhaustion?

The last few months had been tough. Work, endless household chores, preparing for the birthday. Plus, Chloe called almost every day, discussing party details and obsessing over every last thing.

Jess returned to the bedroom. Dan was still asleep, hadn’t moved an inch. She looked at his face in the half-darkness—familiar features, gray at his temples, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

Twenty years together. Two decades of life, joys, and hardships they’d overcome side by side.

How could she suspect him of anything bad because of a silly dream?

She lay back down, pulled the quilt over herself, and forced her breathing to steady. She counted her breaths, trying to relax, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Her father’s voice echoed in her ears, persistent and troubled.

Don’t wear the dress from your husband.

When the alarm finally rang, Jess had long been awake. She lay staring at the ceiling, turning the same thoughts over and over in her mind.

Dan stretched, yawned, and turned to her.

“Morning, birthday girl,” he mumbled sleepily, pecking her on the cheek. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” she lied, forcing a smile. “A little nervous, of course.”

“Oh, come on.” Dan sat up and rubbed his face. “Everything will be perfect. You know how great Chloe is. She thought of every detail. And you in that dress? You’ll simply be the queen of the night.”

That dress again.

Jess felt a knot tighten in her stomach.

“Dan, maybe I’ll just wear that navy one after all,” she said cautiously. “Remember, the one we picked out together last year? It really suits me too.”

Dan froze, then turned to her, and she saw something flash in his eyes—annoyance. Or had she imagined it?

“Jess, we agreed,” he said, his voice suddenly firm. “I specifically ordered this dress for your fiftieth. I spent good money, by the way. Ms. Davis worked hard altering it just for you. Are you trying to offend me?”

“No, of course not,” she quickly replied, feeling guilty. “I just thought—”

“Forget it. You’ll wear the dress. Of course you will.”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“Of course,” she murmured. “I’ll wear your dress.”

Dan nodded, and his face instantly softened again.

“That’s my girl. You’ll see, everyone will gasp.”

He got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, leaving Jess sitting there, clutching her knees.

What is wrong with me? Why am I reacting this way to a simple request from my husband?

He was right. He’d spent money, tried to do something nice for her, and here she was, being temperamental over a dream.

She forced herself to stand and go to the kitchen to make breakfast. She turned on the electric kettle, took out eggs for an omelet, and sliced bread. The familiar motions calmed her slightly, distracting her from the persistent thoughts.

Dan emerged from the shower, already dressed, hair neatly combed, smelling of cologne.

“I’m running into the office for a bit today,” he said, pouring himself coffee. “Need to sign a couple of documents. I’ll be back by lunchtime. What are you up to?”

“Just hanging out at home,” Jess answered, stirring the omelet in the skillet. “I’ll call Chloe, then I need to get ready. By the way, Ms. Davis promised to drop off the dress today after the final adjustments.”

“Perfect.” Dan sat at the table and picked up his fork. “So, you’ll try it on this evening, and tomorrow everything will be perfect.”

They ate breakfast mostly in silence. Dan scrolled through the news on his phone, occasionally commenting on something. Jess nodded mechanically, but his words flew right past her.

She watched him, trying to spot something suspicious, some sign that her anxiety was justified. But she saw only the familiar Dan—maybe a little tired, preoccupied with work, but generally calm.

After breakfast, he got ready and left. Jess walked him to the door, received a routine kiss, and was left alone in the empty house.

The silence was deafening.

She walked through the rooms, straightening the curtains, wiping away nonexistent dust, but her actions were automatic. One thought spun in her head.

The dress. Dad’s warning.

The phone rang and she jumped. The seamstress’s name lit up the screen.

“Mrs. Parker, good afternoon. It’s Evelyn Davis,” the woman’s pleasant voice said. “I’m just about to head your way. The dress is ready. Is now a good time?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Jess glanced at the clock. “Come on over.”

“Wonderful. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Jess hung up and sat on the sofa.

The dress was coming now. The very dress her father had warned her about in the dream.

And what would she do? Tell the seamstress she’d changed her mind? Throw away her husband’s gift?

On what grounds?

She stood and started pacing the living room, hugging herself. She needed to distract herself, to switch gears. She grabbed her phone and dialed her daughter’s number.

“Mom! Hey!” Madeline’s voice sounded cheerful. “How are you feeling? A little nervous?”

“A little,” Jess admitted, trying to sound energetic. “Is everything all set with the Blue Ridge Tavern?”

“Mom, I’ve told you a hundred times—everything’s great. The table’s set, the cake is ordered, the band confirmed. You just have to show up and accept congratulations.”

“Did you try on the dress, by the way?” Madeline asked.

“Not yet. She’s bringing it today.”

“Oh, I can’t wait! Dad was raving about it. Says it’s stunning. By the way, little Mikey is all worked up. He told everyone at his preschool that his grandma is having a big party.”

Jess smiled, picturing her four-year-old grandson chattering endlessly.

“Tell him Grandma can’t wait to see him,” she said.

They talked about small things for a bit longer, and then Madeline said goodbye, saying she was busy with the final preparations.

Jess put down the phone, once again alone with herself.

The doorbell rang exactly thirty minutes later.

Ms. Evelyn Davis stood on the porch with a large garment bag in her hands, smiling.

“Hello, Mrs. Parker. I brought your beautiful gown,” she said. “I hemmed the bottom as you asked and adjusted the darts. I think it fits perfectly now.”

“Thank you so much. Please, come in,” Jess replied.

She led her to the bedroom. The seamstress carefully took the dress out of the bag, and Jess admired it again.

It was truly beautiful. The fabric shimmered softly. The emerald shade was rich and sophisticated. The cut emphasized her waist, concealing a slight tummy. The three-quarter sleeves covered her upper arms. A professional job—no question.

“Please, try it on,” Ms. Davis requested. “I’ll check that everything is just right.”

Jess nodded and stepped behind the screen. She took off her casual clothes and slipped the dress on. The zipper went up easily. The fabric hugged her body without restricting movement.

She stepped out and stood before the mirror.

“Oh!” the seamstress exclaimed, clapping her hands. “How wonderful it looks on you. Look at that waist, that posture. You will be the star of the party, honestly.”

Jess looked at her reflection and saw an elegant woman in a luxurious dress. Yes, it suited her. Yes, she looked great.

So why was she still tormented by a nagging sense of dread?

She ran her hand over the fabric, over the hem, over the waist. Everything seemed normal. What could possibly be wrong with the dress?

“The lining is natural silk,” Ms. Davis explained, pointing out the details. “Your husband insisted that everything be made from the finest materials. And by the way, he asked for hidden pockets in the side seams in case you want to put your phone or a tissue in there.”

Jess nodded, only half listening. She was still trying to figure out what was wrong, but she couldn’t find anything.

Maybe she really was just overly worried.

“I think everything is excellent,” the seamstress concluded. “If you have no questions, I should run. I have another client waiting.”

“Yes. Thank you very much for your work,” Jess said politely.

She took off the dress, changed back into her clothes, and walked Ms. Davis to the door. Left alone, she hung the dress on a padded hanger in the closet and stood for a long time, staring at it.

Beautiful. Expensive. Sewn with love and care.

Or not.

Don’t wear the dress from your husband.

Her father’s voice rang in her head again, and Jess realized she couldn’t just forget the dream. There was something so urgent, so real about it that she simply couldn’t ignore it.

She closed the closet, moved away, and sat on the bed.

She had to decide what to do next.

Tomorrow was the party.

And this damned dress.

Dan returned home for lunch, as promised. Jess heard the front door slam, heard him walk into the hallway, kicking off his shoes. She was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of cold tea and flinched at the sound of his footsteps.

“Well, did the dress arrive?” he called from the hall.

“Yes. Everything’s fine,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

Dan walked into the kitchen, kissed her on the top of the head, and sat down across from her.

“Did you try it on?”

“Mhm. Ms. Davis said it fit perfectly.”

“That’s great,” he said, nodding contentedly. “You’ll be stunning tomorrow. Listen, I have to run over to see my friend Kevin this evening. He’s dropping off some documents for the deal. Probably for about three hours. You don’t mind?”

“No, of course not,” Jess said with a shrug. “Go ahead.”

Dan ate lunch, watched a little TV, then got ready and left.

Jess walked him to the door, and when the lock clicked behind him, leaving her alone, she felt a strange relief, as if she could finally exhale.

She walked into the bedroom and opened the closet. The dress hung on the hanger, serene and beautiful.

Jess reached out and ran her fingers over the fabric. What could be wrong with it? Maybe she should just examine it more closely.

But what exactly was she looking for?

She took the dress off the hanger and laid it on the bed. She sat next to it, examining every seam, every stitch. Everything looked flawless. Ms. Davis truly was a master of her craft—straight seams, neat finishing, no loose threads or wrinkles anywhere.

Jess turned the dress over, inspecting the lining. The silk felt smooth against her fingers. She ran her palm over the inside and suddenly it seemed like the fabric near the waist was slightly thicker than in other places.

Or was it her imagination?

She stood up, turned on the desk lamp, and held the dress closer to the light. She squinted.

No, she hadn’t imagined it.

In the lining near the side seam at the waist, there was a small irregularity, as if something had been sewn inside.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Jess put the dress down and walked around the room, clenching and unclenching her fists.

What foolish thoughts are creeping into my head? It’s probably just a double stitch or reinforcement so the fabric doesn’t stretch. Just regular tailoring.

But her father’s voice wouldn’t stop ringing in her ears.

Don’t wear the dress from your husband.

She returned to the bed, picked up the dress, and carefully felt the spot again. There was definitely something there—something thin, sewn between the layers of fabric.

Her hands started to tremble.

Jess sat down on the edge of the bed, hugging the dress to her chest.

What should she do? Rip the seam?

If there was nothing there, she’d ruin the seamstress’s work, and then she’d have to explain to Dan why she’d cut up his expensive gift.

But what if there was something?

She closed her eyes, trying to calm down. She remembered her father’s face from the dream, his serious gaze, his voice, which had held not a hint of doubt. He had never spoken just for the sake of it. Even in life, when he warned her about something, he always turned out to be right.

The decision came naturally.

She stood up, went to the dresser, and took a small pair of sewing scissors from the top drawer. Then she returned to the bed, turned on the bright lamp, and spread the dress out, inside out.

She found the place where she’d felt the irregularity—in the side seam, closer to the waist, where in normal wear no one would pay attention to a slight thickening.

Jess took a deep breath, picked up the scissors, and carefully picked at a single thread of the lining seam. She pulled. The thread gave way easily, and a small slit appeared in the silk. She carefully widened the opening, trying not to damage the main fabric of the dress.

Her fingers were trembling so badly she had to stop and put down the scissors to compose herself.

Then she took up the task again.

The slit grew larger.

And suddenly something white spilled out of it.

Fine powder, like flour or cornstarch, dusted the dark bedspread.

Jess froze, unable to believe her eyes. The powder kept spilling—just a little, a pinch, maybe a teaspoon.

White. Fine-grained. Odorless.

What is this? Why?

She recoiled from the bed, dropping the dress. Her breathing turned shallow. A pounding began in her temples.

This couldn’t be an accident.

Someone had deliberately sewn this inside the lining.

Dan.

Dan had done this—or he had ordered the seamstress to do it.

But why?

What was this powder?

Jess walked to the nightstand, picked up her phone with shaking hands, and dialed her friend’s number.

Emily was a chemist who worked in a hospital lab. If anyone could help her understand, it was Emily.

“Emily… hey.” Her own voice sounded foreign, scared. “Can you talk right now?”

“Jess? What happened? You sound strange,” Emily said, instantly alert.

“I—I need your help immediately.”

“Is something wrong? Where are you?”

“Home.” Jess swallowed. “Emily, I found some white powder in the dress. It was sewn into the lining. I don’t know what it is, but I’m really scared.”

Silence hung on the line.

Then Emily asked softly, “Which dress?”

“The one Dan ordered for my birthday.”

Another pause, longer this time.

“Jess, listen to me carefully,” Emily said. Her voice turned harsh, professional. “Don’t touch that powder anymore. Don’t touch it at all. If you touched it with your hands, go immediately and wash them with soap several times. Put the dress in a plastic bag and seal it. And collect a small amount of the powder into a separate bag, but do it with gloves on. Understood? Do you have gloves at home?”

“Yes. Rubber gloves for washing dishes.”

“Those will work. Collect a sample and bring it to the lab. I’m at work now. Come as soon as you can.”

“Emily, you’re scaring me.”

“I don’t want to scare you, but this could be anything—from harmless talc to something very dangerous. We just need to check. Get dressed quickly and come here.”

Jess hung up. Her hands were shaking even harder.

She went to the bathroom, soaped her hands, and began scrubbing them under hot water. She soaped, rinsed, soaped again. Her skin turned red, but she kept washing, as if trying to wash away not just the powder, but the terror that had seized her.

Then she returned to the bedroom, retrieved rubber gloves and plastic bags from the kitchen, pulled on the gloves, took a small resealable baggie, and carefully collected a pinch of the white powder from the bedspread. She sealed it and put it in her jacket pocket.

She carefully folded the dress, trying not to scatter the remaining powder, and packed it into a large trash bag. She tied it shut and hid it in the closet.

Then she took off the gloves, washed her hands again, got dressed, and rushed out of the house.

On the way to the lab, she tried not to think about what was happening. She turned on the radio to drown out the voices in her head, but the music irritated her, and she soon turned it off. She silently watched the road, the traffic lights, the pedestrians.

Everything seemed unreal, as if she were watching a movie about someone else’s life.

Emily met her at the entrance to the lab building. She was in a white coat, her hair pulled back, her face serious.

“Give it here,” she said, taking the baggie with the powder. “Wait right here. I’ll do a quick preliminary analysis.”

Jess remained standing in the corridor, leaning against the cold wall. Time stretched out agonizingly slowly—ten minutes, twenty, then half an hour.

She was about to knock on the lab door when it opened and Emily stepped out.

Her face was pale.

“Let’s go talk in my office,” she said quietly.

They went into a small office at the end of the corridor. Emily closed the door, sat down at the table, and gestured for Jess to sit across from her.

“Jess, this isn’t talc or cornstarch,” she began. “This is a very dangerous substance.”

“What?” Jess whispered.

“I ran an express test, and it indicated the presence of toxic compounds. To determine exactly what it is, we need a full analysis. But I can tell you with certainty—it’s poison.”

The word hung in the air like a blow.

“A poison that is activated upon contact with moisture and heat,” Emily continued. “Meaning when a person sweats. If you had worn that dress and spent several hours in it, especially moving, dancing, getting excited—that is, during a party—your skin would have secreted sweat and the poison would have started to absorb.”

“What… what would have happened then?” Jess asked.

“First weakness, dizziness, then nausea, rapid heartbeat—and then, depending on the dose and exposure time, a cardiac arrest could have occurred,” Emily said. “It would have looked like a natural death from heart failure, especially in a fifty-year-old woman at a celebratory event where she’s excited, drinking wine, experiencing emotions.”

Jess covered her face with her hands.

This couldn’t be real. This had to be a nightmare. Another dream from which she would soon wake up.

“Jess, listen to me.” Emily moved closer, taking her hands. “I understand this is a shock, but we need to act. You have to go to the police immediately.”

“The police?” Jess raised her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Emily, that’s Dan. My husband. We’ve been together for twenty years. How could he—”

“I don’t know how or why,” Emily interrupted gently, “but the fact remains: someone wanted to kill you and make it look like an accident. He ordered the dress, right?”

“Yes… but maybe the seamstress,” Jess said desperately. “Maybe it was her.”

“Why would the seamstress kill you? Does she even know you?”

Jess fell silent. Of course she didn’t. Ms. Davis was just a seamstress recommended by Madeline. They had no reason for enmity.

“Jess, you have to go to the police,” Emily repeated firmly. “I’ll give you an official report on the composition of this substance. I have a detective friend—a good man. Call him, meet with him.”

Jess nodded, unable to speak.

Emily dialed a number, spoke to someone, then handed Jess a slip of paper with a phone number on it.

“His name is Detective Ryan Hayes. I explained everything to him. He’s waiting for your call.”

Jess took the paper with trembling fingers, stood up, and left the office.

In the corridor, she stopped, leaned against the wall, and tried to gather her thoughts.

Dan wanted to kill her.

Her husband, the father of her child, the man she had spent the better part of her life with.

How was this possible?

She dialed the detective’s number. After a few rings, a man’s voice answered.

“Ryan Hayes speaking.”

“Hello.” Her voice trembled. “My name is Jessica Parker. Emily gave me your number.”

“Yes, I know, Mrs. Parker,” he said. “I understand how difficult this is for you right now, but I need to meet with you as soon as possible. Where are you?”

“Near the medical lab on Maple Avenue.”

“All right, I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Wait for me by the entrance, and don’t go anywhere.”

Jess went outside and sat on a bench by the entrance. Her legs wouldn’t hold her. Her head felt foggy. People walked by. Cars drove along the road. Everything seemed so distant, so alien.

Twenty minutes later, a dark, unmarked car pulled up. A man in his fifties got out wearing a dark jacket, with a tired but attentive face.

“Mrs. Parker?” he asked, extending a hand. “Detective Ryan Hayes. Let’s go talk.”

They went into the building lobby and sat on a sofa in the corner. The detective took out a notebook and a pen.

“Tell me everything from the beginning,” he said. “Take your time, but try to remember all the details.”

Jess began to tell him about the dream, about her father, about the dress Dan had given her, about how she’d ripped open the lining and found the powder. Her voice broke, tears flowed, but she kept talking.

Detective Hayes listened silently, occasionally taking notes.

When she finished, he closed his notebook and nodded.

“Mrs. Parker, I have something to tell you,” he said seriously. “Your husband, Dan Parker, has been under surveillance for some time. We’ve been conducting an investigation into major financial fraud. He has serious debts to certain individuals. Very serious debts.”

Jess wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“What debts? He works. We have a stable income.”

“He was involved in illegal real estate transactions, borrowed money from criminal organizations, and lost it,” Hayes said. “The amount is very large, and he’s been threatened with violence. But six months ago, he insured you for a large sum. We noted it as suspicious then, but we couldn’t prove anything.”

Insurance.

He had insured her and would receive the money after her death.

So he really wanted to kill her—for the money.

“It looks that way,” the detective continued gently. “And this dress was a way to make it all look like an accidental death. A heart attack at a party is common for women your age, especially with stress and alcohol.”

Jess stared at the floor, unable to lift her head.

Twenty years of marriage. Twenty years of love, care, shared hardships—and it had all been a lie, at least for the last few months.

“What should I do?” she asked quietly.

“Right now, we’ll take the dress as evidence,” Hayes said. “The powder sample too. Iris Reed has already agreed to provide an official report. The rest is police work, but we need your help. Your birthday is tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.”

“Here’s what I propose.” Detective Hayes leaned closer. “You go to your party—but not in that dress. Wear any other one, and we will be ready to intervene at any moment. Dan Parker expects you to wear that dress and die. When he sees you in a different outfit and alive, he’ll likely get nervous, maybe give himself away, and we’ll take him into custody.”

“You want me to act as bait?” Jess looked up, horrified.

“Not exactly,” he said calmly. “We just want everything to proceed as usual, but under our control. You will be safe. I promise. My people will be close by.”

Jess was silent, considering the offer. A part of her wanted to run, hide, never see Dan again. But another, stronger part craved justice.

He had tried to kill her—the mother of his child. He had to answer for it.

“All right,” she said firmly. “I agree. We’ll do it.”

Detective Hayes nodded with respect.

“You’re a strong woman, Mrs. Parker. Everything will be fine. I promise you.”

They discussed the details for a while longer. Then the detective left, taking the dress with him as evidence.

Jess remained standing outside the lab, staring at the empty road.

Evening was approaching. Soon Dan would return home, and she would have to look him in the eye, knowing he wanted her dead—talk to him, smile, pretend everything was normal.

She returned home, barely able to stand from exhaustion and shock. She walked into the house, undressed, and lay down on the sofa, covering herself with a throw blanket. Her eyes closed on their own, but sleep was impossible. Only endless thoughts swirled in her head, giving her no peace.

She remembered the last few months—how Dan had become more withdrawn, irritable; how often he left the room when his phone rang; how he had insisted on getting the life insurance.

“They say it’s necessary for family security,” he’d told her.

All those little things she hadn’t paid attention to now formed a terrifying picture.

He had planned this long and meticulously.

And she had almost become the victim of his plan.

But her father had saved her.

Even after death, he had protected his daughter.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Jess whispered into the emptiness. “Thank you for not leaving me.”

Tears flowed again, but this time they were not only tears of grief, but of gratitude and determination.

Tomorrow she would go to her party, and Dan would realize his plan had failed.

The front door slammed. Her husband was back.

Jess quickly wiped her tears and got up from the sofa, trying to look calm.

“Jess, I’m home,” Dan called from the entryway.

“I’m here,” she replied, stepping into the hall.

He looked at her closely.

“You look a little pale. Everything okay?”

“Yes, just tired.” She forced a smile. “I’ve been on my feet all day getting ready.”

“I see. Well, you’ll rest at the party tomorrow.” He walked into the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”

Jess silently followed him.

For the first time in twenty years of marriage, she looked at her husband as if he were a stranger.

The night passed in a restless doze. Jess would sink into troubled sleep, then wake up again, listening to her husband’s breathing next to her. Every time she opened her eyes, her heart began to pound. Reality returned like a heavy burden.

Dan slept peacefully, snoring lightly. That tranquility seemed monstrous to her.

How could he sleep so soundly while planning to murder his own wife?

In the morning, he woke up first, stretched, and turned to her with a smile.

“Well, birthday girl, let’s welcome your day,” he said cheerfully.

He kissed her cheek, and Jess barely stopped herself from pulling away.

“Good morning,” she managed.

They ate breakfast in near silence. Dan scrolled through his phone, occasionally commenting on the weather and traffic. Jess mechanically chewed toast, unable to taste it.

Detective Hayes had called last night while Dan was in the shower and told her everything was ready. His people would be at the restaurant disguised as regular patrons. Jess was to act naturally and wait.

“Listen, I have to swing by the office this afternoon,” Dan said, finishing his coffee. “I’ll be back in the evening, pick you up, and we’ll head to the party. Get your dress ready beforehand so you don’t have to rush.”

Jess nodded without looking up.

“Okay.”

He left around one o’clock, and she was alone again.

She went into the bedroom, opened the closet, and took out the navy dress she’d wanted to wear from the beginning. Simple, elegant, the one she felt truly comfortable in.

She hung it on the closet door and stared at it for a long time, trying to collect her thoughts.

The phone rang. It was Madeline.

“Mom, happy birthday!” her daughter’s voice was joyful, full of warmth. “How’s your mood?”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Jess tried to sound cheerful. “It’s fine, just a little nervous.”

“We’re already on the road. We’ll be at your place in an hour. Mikey got so worked up he forgot his favorite toy car at home. We had to turn back,” Madeline laughed. “Listen, did you try on the dress? Dad was raving about it. I can’t even imagine how beautiful it is.”

Jess swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I tried it on,” she said slowly. “But you know… I decided to wear a different one. The navy one. You remember?”

A slight pause followed.

“A different one? But Mom, Dad ordered that one specially.”

“Nikki, please don’t argue.” Jess’s voice came out sharper than she intended. “I’m going to wear what I feel comfortable in. It’s my party, after all.”

“Okay, okay.” Madeline was clearly surprised by the tone. “Whatever you say. The main thing is that you’re happy. Kisses. See you soon.”

Jess put down the phone and sat on the bed.

The hardest day of her life lay ahead of her. She had to smile, accept congratulations, talk to guests—and all the while know that the man standing next to her had tried to kill her.

She stood and went to the mirror. Fifty years old. Wrinkles around her eyes. Gray streaks in her hair that she diligently covered up. An ordinary woman who had lived an ordinary life, worked as an accountant, raised a daughter, kept a home.

What had she done wrong? What had she done to deserve such betrayal?

Tears welled up, but she forced herself to hold them back.

No. She wouldn’t cry today.

Today, she would be strong.

Jess went to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stood under the hot stream for a long time, trying to wash away the heaviness in her soul. Then she dried her hair, put on light makeup, dressed in casual clothes, and waited.

Madeline and her family arrived first. Her son-in-law, Darius, carried a huge bouquet of roses. Her grandson, Mikey, ran ahead of everyone and threw himself into Jess’s arms.

“Grandma, happy birthday! We bought you the biggest cake!” he announced proudly.

Jess hugged him, inhaling the scent of baby shampoo, and for a moment, she forgot everything. This was what was real. This was what was worth living for.

“Thank you, sweetie,” she whispered, kissing the top of his head.

Madeline embraced her mother, and Jess felt her daughter studying her face with slight anxiety.

“Mom, are you really okay? You look, I don’t know… strange.”

“I’m fine, just a little tired from the preparations.” Jess pulled away and smiled. “Come in, sit down. I’ll make some tea.”

They settled in the kitchen. Mikey chattered endlessly, talking about preschool and his new friends. Darius discussed the evening details with Madeline, confirming what time they needed to be at the restaurant.

Jess sat with them, nodding, answering questions, but feeling as though she were watching it all from a distance.

Dan returned home at three. He was in a good mood, hugged Madeline, ruffled his grandson’s hair, and shook Darius’s hand.

“Well, time to get ready,” he said, looking at his watch. “We need to be at the Blue Ridge Tavern by six. Jess, go get yourself ready. We’re running out of time.”

Jess stood and went into the bedroom, closed the door, leaned against it, and shut her eyes for a moment.

Now he would see she was wearing a different dress.

How would he react?

She opened the closet, took the navy dress off the hanger, and put it on. She zipped it up, straightened the folds, and looked at herself in the mirror.

She looked good. Elegant. Dignified.

She grabbed a small clutch, put her phone, lipstick, and a tissue inside, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the bedroom.

Everyone was ready in the living room—Madeline in a beautiful beige dress, Darius in a suit, Mikey in a white shirt and vest.

Dan stood by the window and turned around when he heard her footsteps.

His face changed.

The smile froze. His eyes widened. And for a split second, Jess saw something in them that made her blood run cold.

Rage. Incomprehension. Fear.

“What is this?” he asked, his voice too sharp. “What is this exactly?”

“What is what?” Jess stopped in the middle of the room, meeting his gaze.

“Why aren’t you wearing that dress?” His jaw tightened. “I asked you to. I ordered it specially.”

“I prefer this one,” she replied with a shrug, trying to speak calmly. “You’re not going to object, are you, Dan?”

Madeline exchanged a quick look with Darius. An awkward silence hung in the air.

“But we agreed,” Dan said through his teeth. He took a step toward her, and his movements conveyed