As quickly as the sharp pains appear, they vanish, and you’re able to sit up straight.
“Oh, please, Mark,” Mr. Hardy says with a laugh, waving his hand as if to shoo something away, “you didn’t actually think I’d be upset about that, did you?”
“Well-“
“It is my fault that my wife felt the need to seek out other men’s attention, not yours. I’ll just have to do better with the next one.”
You blink, confused. “The next one?”
“No, I said ‘the next time,’” he corrects. “Next time, I’ll make sure my wife doesn’t feel the need to look to anyone else. It’s best to make sure a wife is devoted entirely to her husband, isn’t it? I’ll just make sure she doesn’t get distracted again.”
“Right…” you say uneasily. “Was that all, sir?”
“Yes, that’s all. I sense big changes in your future, Mark. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Mr. Hardy smiles and gives your hand another firm shake before ushering you out the door.
Once you’re gone, Mat Hardy reaches into his desk and pulls out a small tablet. On it is everything from information about your appearance to your personality traits to the relationships you have with others.
And it’s all available for Mat to edit, thanks to the little microchip in the water you drank. It was programmed to find the brain of its host and link with it, allowing the tablet holder to see everything and change it on a whim.
Mat was serious when he said he would do better with the next one and ensure she never get distracted again. Unfortunately, you didn’t realize his next trophy wife was going to be you.
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