It was pushing 7 in the evening when Martin entered the drug store. After deliberattions with the pharmacist he got a vial labelled 'poison', threw away the bill and started home. The events of the last 2 months started unfolding.
Martin, a handsome and young doctor was working in the Fleming hospital, where Cynthia was a patient; she was a billionaire's daughter; several industries, farm houses and estates became hers after her fathers's demise. According to the will, the property would go to Cynthia, then to her husband and children (should something befall her). The care and attention that Martin bestowed on Cynthia in the hospital culminated in their simple wedding. Martin earned himself a billionaire wife, will he become one? his friends began to guess. A few days back, the chief surgeon told Martin that Cynthia could be taken home. He should keep her happy and contented. He warned that any disturbance or un necessary nuisance would aggravate her condition.
As he reached their sprawling mansion, Martin tiptoed to Cynthia's room. Opening the door by a few millimetres, he saw her fast asleep, thanks to the heavy drugs and to her voracious reading habit. The book rack, a little away from her bed, contained some of the finest collections which Martin had presented. This must be the right time to use the poison, Martin told himself.
Time was ticking away. Silently he went near the bed. Took the bottle out. Then sprayed the wasp's nest under the book rack with the poison, destroying the insects that were a menace. His mind became relaxed. Cynthia could sleep peacefully.
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