Page 149 of The Professor's Wife

Water.

So ordinary, yet it had become another thing Oliver could give or take away.

He sat at the table, his posture relaxed, his eyes fixed on me.

“Go on,” he said softly. “Cook for us. You’ve earned it.”

I crossed the kitchen and drank the entire glass before reaching for the knife.

“Yes,” I murmured. “I’ll make dinner.”

The blade struck the cutting board, every chop loud in the silence.

“You’ll continue your studies,” Oliver said. “If you’re good, I’ll bring Rowe here. Rewards come with obedience.”

My chest tightened at the mention of my son.

I kept my eyes on the knife.

“I understand.”

“When the time comes, we’ll return home. Things will be different. You’ll perform your duties. You’ll be a good mother to Rowe, and I’ll give you the greatest life. You’ll be enlightened and happy.”

The knife gleamed beneath the kitchen light.

For a moment, I wondered whether I could use it.

My hand shook badly enough that the blade tapped against the board.

Even if I managed to hurt him, I didn’t know where Rowe was. If Oliver survived, I might never see my son again.

His chair scraped against the floor.

My breath caught.

He approached from behind until I felt his body close to mine.

I turned with the knife still clutched in my hand.

Oliver looked down at it.

Then at me.

“I’m doing this for you,” he whispered. His eyes held a terrible sweetness. “I love you. I will never let you go. To let you go would mean something very grave had happened to you.”

The threat sat plainly between us.

My grip loosened.

“I understand,” I whispered.

Oliver took the knife gently from my hand and placed it on the counter.

We ate in silence.

The steak was tough and the vegetables were limp, but Oliver chewed with satisfaction, his eyes rarely leaving me.

Every bite I took felt like another test.