The Vitamin Deficiency

You notice things when you play padel with someone three times a week. The way Marcus's iPhone always faced down on the bench. The rapid tap-tap-tap whenever he thought you weren't looking. The way his wife, Elena — your friend since college — never came to watch anymore.

"You're missing your vitamins," she'd told you last week over coffee, pressing a bottle into your hand. "You look tired, Sarah. You need to take care of yourself."

The bottle sat on your counter now. Multivitamins. Elena's favorite brand.

That evening, while Marcus showered after their match, Sarah's phone buzzed with a notification from a number she didn't recognize. Not her phone — Marcus's iPhone, which he'd left unlocked on the kitchen counter. She'd meant only to check the time. Instead, she saw the message thread. Hundreds of them. Photos. Documents. Timestamps that matched every single padel match they'd played for six months.

"Asset report: Week 23. Target maintains schedule. No suspicious activity. Marriage stable."

The vitamins on the counter suddenly made sense. Elena wasn't being thoughtful. Elena was his handler.

Sarah had recruited her, three years ago. Counterintelligence. "Just keep an eye on him," she'd said. "If he ever starts asking questions about the merger, we need to know."

Marcus emerged from the shower, towel around his waist, smiling. "Good game today. You really pushed me."

Sarah pressed the iPhone's home button, locking the screen. "Yeah," she said. "You too."

She thought about the vitamins. About Elena's recruitment. About the six months of reports Marcus had been sending, detailing her moods, her habits, her suspicions. She'd taught him how to play padel. He'd been playing her the whole time.

"Starting tomorrow," Marcus said, reaching for his phone, "I think I'll start taking those vitamins Elena recommended."

Sarah smiled, and something in her died a little.

"Good idea," she said. "You should."

The vitamins were actually placebos. Another test. One more thing they'd both failed.