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Husband's Psychic Deception Novel Cover

Husband's Psychic Deception

The doorbell chimed through our living room, its sound oddly foreboding in the afternoon silence. I glanced up from my sketchbook, where I'd been idly drawing the garden landscape beyond our bay windows. "I'll get it," Carl said, setting down his coffee mug with unusual urgency. His eyes held a peculiar intensity I hadn't seen before. When he returned, a woman followed in his wake—tall, with flowing auburn hair and clothes that seemed to shimmer with every movement. Her eyes were striking—a deep green that seemed to catch the light in an almost unnatural way. "Sophie, this is Ivy Reed," Carl introduced her with a reverence that made my stomach tighten. "The psychic consultant I told you about." I remembered his brief mention of someone who might help with his recent "business concerns," but nothing prepared me for the theatrical presence now filling our living room. "Hello, Sophie," Ivy's voice was melodic, each word carefully measured. "I've been looking forward to meeting you." She moved with practiced grace, setting down a large velvet pouch on our coffee table.
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Chapter 3

The morning light filtered through our living room windows, casting long shadows across the floor where my father's ashes had once rested. Ivy stood in the center of the room, her flowing robes catching the light as she arranged a circle of black candles. The air felt thick with incense and something else—something that made my skin crawl.

"Today," Ivy announced, her voice carrying that false reverance I'd come to dread, "we will perform the final ritual to absorb the family's negative karma."

Carl stood beside her, his eyes vacant, nodding at her every word. I hadn't seen him look at me with recognition for days.

"This ceremony requires your complete participation, Sophie," Ivy said, fixing me with her unnerving stare. "The spirits have instructed that you must consume this mixture to cleanse your bloodline."

She gestured toward a crystal bowl filled with a swirling liquid that changed colors in the candlelight—purple one moment, black the next.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"A sacred blend of herbs and minerals," she replied smoothly. "Don't question the spirits' wisdom."

Carl stepped forward, taking my arm with a grip that would leave bruises. "Drink it, Sophie. It's for the best."

I looked into his eyes, searching for any trace of the man I'd married, but found only cold determination.

"Carl, please," I begged. "Don't make me do this."

"You're being selfish," he said, his voice flat. "After everything we've done to help you."

Ivy approached with the bowl, her smile triumphant. "Just one sip to begin."

The liquid tasted of bitter roots and something metallic. It burned going down, and immediately I felt my vision blur.

"More," Ivy insisted, tilting the bowl against my lips.

I struggled against her grip, but Carl held me firm as she poured the mixture down my throat.

The room began to spin. Colors separated and danced before my eyes. I could hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears, too fast, too irregular.

"I don't feel right," I gasped, clutching my throat. "Something's wrong."

Ivy's laugh seemed to come from miles away. "The toxins are leaving your body. This is normal."

But it wasn't normal. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the hardwood floor. The pain in my chest intensified until I couldn't breathe.

"Carl," I wheezed, reaching for him. "Help me."

He stepped back, shaking his head. "Ivy says we can't interfere. It would disrupt the cleansing."

"I think she's dying," I heard him murmur to Ivy as darkness crept into the edges of my vision.

"Then the spirits have decided," Ivy replied coldly.

---

I woke in my bedroom, disoriented and weak. My phone lay on the nightstand—Carl must have brought it when he carried me upstairs. With trembling fingers, I checked the screen and found a message from an unknown number.

"Sophie," it read. "I've discovered who she really is. Ivy isn't a psychic—she's a fraud working with Chase to destroy Carl's family from within. I have proof. Meet me at the institution tomorrow. Tell no one."

My heart raced as I read the words. My brother had found evidence of Ivy's scheme!

I clutched the phone to my chest, tears of relief streaming down my face. For the first time in weeks, I felt hope—a fragile, dangerous hope.

But as I scrolled through the message again, a new text appeared from the same number:

"They know I've contacted you. They're coming for me. If I disappear, look for the files I hid in your old studio."

The message ended abruptly, and when I tried to call the number back, it went straight to voicemail.

---

I didn't sleep that night. By morning, I'd gathered what little strength I had left and prepared to go to the institution. But as I reached for my coat, Chase appeared in our doorway.

"Sophie," he said, his voice dripping with false concern. "I heard you were unwell. Carl asked me to check on you."

"I'm fine," I lied, trying to step past him.

His hand caught my arm. "Actually, I came to tell you about your brother. He's been transferred to a specialized facility."

The blood drained from my face. "What? When?"

"Last night," Chase replied smoothly. "His condition deteriorated rapidly after he somehow accessed a phone. The doctors felt he needed more intensive care."

"Where did they take him?" I demanded, panic rising in my throat.

Chase's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I'm not sure of the exact location. These specialized facilities are quite secretive about their whereabouts."

As he turned to leave, he added casually, "Oh, and Sophie? Ivy says you should finish the cleansing ritual tonight."

I sank to the floor as the door closed behind him, my brother's warning echoing in my mind. They knew I'd been contacted. They'd taken him away—to somewhere no one would find him.

And tonight, they would try again to silence me permanently.

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