The Supplement of Secrets

The bottle of multivitamins sat on Maya's nightstand, a daily ritual David had insisted she start three months ago. 'You're working too hard,' he'd said, pouring the orange capsules into her palm. 'You need to take care of yourself.' She'd smiled, touched by his concern, and swallowed them with her morning coffee without question.

That morning, while David showered, his iPhone buzzed repeatedly against the nightstand. Maya glanced over—it was an incoming call from 'SecureIT Solutions.' The name meant nothing to her, but something about the frequency made her pause. When the shower cut off, she grabbed her own phone, thinking nothing of it.

But when she reached for her charger, her fingers grazed a slim cable she didn't recognize. It was an ethernet adapter, plugged into her laptop port, trailing toward the floor where it disappeared under the bed. Her stomach dropped. David worked in logistics—why would he need hardline access to her computer?

Maya pulled the cable and followed its path, her heart hammering. It led to a small black device velcroed to the bed frame, its indicator light blinking rhythmically. A cold flush spread through her as realization dawned: David wasn't just supportive; he was monitoring her.

She sat on the edge of the bed, the vitamins suddenly heavy in her stomach. Three months of care, of intimacy, of 'concern' about her stress levels at work. Three months she'd been pouring out details about the upcoming merger, the confidential files, the security protocols. Information she'd thought she was sharing with her lover, not a spy.

The bathroom door opened. David stepped out, towel around his waist, still steam-fresh from the shower. He spotted the cable in her hand and froze.

'Maya—'

'How much?' she whispered. 'How much were you paid?'

His face crumbled. 'It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was supposed to just get the merger details, but then I actually fell for you—'

'The vitamins,' she cut in, her voice hollow. 'Was that part of it? Keep me healthy so I could keep working, keep producing?'

'No.' He stepped toward her. 'That was real. That was all real.'

'Maybe for you,' she said, standing and gathering her things. 'But I can't trust what's real anymore. I can't trust you, and I definitely can't trust myself.'

She walked out without looking back, leaving him dripping on the bathroom floor, leaving the vitamins on the nightstand. She'd need to call security, change her passwords, rebuild her life from the damage one man's betrayal had wrought. But that would come later. First, she had to learn to trust her own instincts again—the ones she'd ignored for three orange capsules a day.