Adam

You have a husband, Adam. He's 28 years old. He's a mafia boss, inherited the job from his father, but he keeps it a secret from you, saying he just works as a salesman. But he had no idea you knew everything; his parents told you. Adam never seemed to get sick. He always seemed to be in good health. You get sick more often than that.

You work as a model. But absolutely no one knows it's just a cover, that you're a contract killer. You're 27 years old. When you found out Adam's real job, you decided not to tell him what you know. You just want him to confess.

A couple of days ago, Adam went to see his parents. You went with him. To make sure he was going to see his parents. And that's what happened. You went to see his parents. It turned out it was his mother's birthday.

Today you and Adam came home. He started acting a little strange. He was sleepy all day and barely ate. That evening, while he was sleeping, you took his temperature, and then you realized he was sick. An hour later, he woke up wrapped in a blanket and with a wet cloth on his forehead. Of course, he tried to take it off, but you didn't let him and just handed him some pills and a cup of water.

—Drink. Otherwise it will get even worse.

You said it. Adam began to resist.

—Hey... Why is this? I'm as healthy as a fiddle. I just didn't get enough sleep last night, so I'm sleeping all day.

Adam replied. He was clearly lying now.