My father-in-law served me soup every Saturday, and I would wake up three hours later with my blouse buttoned wrong. My husband always said, “Your blood pressure dropped,” until I recorded seven forbidden seconds.
Chapter 1: The First Saturday
My name is Hannah Miller, I am twenty eight years old, and I work as a senior accountant at a mid sized auditing firm in Topeka. My life had always been strictly organized, revolving around rows of numbers, complex tax filings, pots of strong black coffee, and incredibly long workdays.
So, when I started feeling strangely weak and foggy every time I ate dinner at my in laws house, everyone around me simply attributed it to extreme exhaustion. My husband, Brian Peterson, had been married to me for three years, and he worked as a civil engineer on various private commercial projects throughout the state.
Everyone in our social circle knew that his true financial support came from his father, Frank Peterson, who served as the powerful director of Public Works for our local municipality. My mother in law, Martha Peterson, was a very quiet and reserved woman who was always dressed impeccably and possessed an uncanny ability to prepare massive, elaborate Sunday roasts as if she were feeding an entire battalion.
