I learned to ignore my mother-in-law’s cold stares. I learned to cherish the rare moments of warmth from my father-in-law, who always seemed just a little more kind than the rest. And I learned not to notice how James was slowly pulling away.
How he stayed late at work more often. How our conversations became strictly about chores and logistics. How his hugs started to feel more like obligations than affection.
Catherine grew up and went off to university abroad. For the last two years, she had lived in England, only coming home for the holidays. With her gone, the house felt even emptier, even more foreign to me.
We’re here, the taxi driver said, pulling me out of my thoughts. My father-in-law paid the fare, and we got out in front of the house, a large estate in Westchester. A house that had never really felt like mine, even though I’d lived in it for nearly 20 years.
Do you want me to come in with you? he offered. You shouldn’t be alone right now. I looked at him, surprised.
That was probably the most considerate thing he’d ever said to me. Thanks, but I’ll be okay. You need some rest too.
He nodded. All right. But call if you need anything.
I stepped into the empty house and instantly felt the weight of the silence. Normally, it didn’t bother me, but tonight, every creak, every tiny sound made me jump. I turned on the lights in every room, as if they could somehow keep the terrible thoughts from flooding in.
What if Samantha died? What if I’d just caused someone’s death? Sure, she’d never been a friend. She’d done everything she could to make my life miserable in this family. But I hadn’t wished her dead.
And what would I say when James came home? Sorry, darling, I saw you slip something into my drink, so I gave it to your sister instead. No. Of course not.
I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. My hands were shaking so badly the glass tapped against the counter. I had never felt so lost and afraid in my life.
The phone rang so suddenly I jumped, spilling water everywhere. James’ name flashed on the screen. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and answered.
Yes. Emily, he said. His voice was strained, almost flat.
Samantha’s in the ICU. The doctors say it’s poisoning. They pumped her stomach, but she’s still unconscious.
Oh my god, I breathed. I didn’t know what else to say. How, how could that happen? I don’t know, he said after a pause.
Maybe it was the wine or something in the food. Mom’s hysterical. I’m staying here overnight.
What about you? Are you okay? I’m in shock. Just like you, I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. Please keep me updated, alright? Will do.
Then, after a beat, he added, Emily, you didn’t drink from your glass, did you? My heart skipped a beat. No. Barely touched it.
Why? No reason. Just asking. The doctor said everyone at the table should monitor how they’re feeling.
I’m fine, I said, though I knew it wasn’t true. I wasn’t fine. I was terrified, disoriented, and shaken to my core.
Okay. I’ll call if there’s any news. He hung up, and I stood there in the kitchen, clutching the phone.
There was something in his voice. Yes, he was scared, that was clear. But there was something else, too.
Relief. Relief when he heard I hadn’t drunk from my glass. I went upstairs to our bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.
My thoughts were spinning, my heart pounding. I had to do something, but what? Call the police. And say what? That my husband tried to poison me, but his sister ended up drinking it because I switched the glasses.
Suddenly, I remembered something, months ago, I had accidentally overheard a conversation between James and Samantha. They hadn’t realized I’d come home early. I was walking up the stairs when I heard their voices coming from his office.
You need to deal with this, James, Samantha had said. You’ve dragged it out long enough. The situation’s only getting worse.
I know, he replied, sounding tired and irritated. But it’s not as simple as you think. There’s no easy way out, and you know it.
But the longer you wait, the messier it’ll be. Samantha, I can’t just… He didn’t finish the sentence. It has to be done in a way that doesn’t raise suspicion.
Time’s running out, brother. If you won’t handle it, I will. Back then, I thought they were talking about business.
Some deal gone bad or a client issue. But now, those words echoed in my head with a terrifying new meaning. It has to be done in a way that doesn’t raise suspicion.
What if… they were talking about me? The doorbell rang, and I jumped. I checked the time, it was after midnight. Who could possibly be at the door now? James had said he was staying at the hospital.
His mother was there too. My father-in-law. But why wouldn’t he call first? I walked downstairs, approached the door, and looked through the peephole.
A police officer stood on the porch, young, serious, in full uniform. My breath caught in my throat. Had someone called the police? Did they already know what happened at the restaurant? Trying to keep my hands from shaking, I opened the door.
Emily Prescott, the officer asked. I’m Officer Taylor. May I come in? We need to talk.
I stepped aside silently, letting him in. One thought echoed in my mind, they know. They know everything.
Please, have a seat, I said, gesturing toward the living room. What’s going on? Officer Taylor remained standing. We received a report from the hospital.
Your relative, Samantha Prescott, was admitted with signs of poisoning. The doctors believe it wasn’t food-related. They found traces of a potent substance in her system.
I sank into a chair, feeling the ground slip from beneath me. That’s awful. But, why are you here? Why me? We’re interviewing everyone who was at your table.
Your husband mentioned you returned home. I just have a few questions. I nodded, trying to stay composed.
Of course. I’ll answer whatever I can. Did you notice anything unusual in anyone’s behavior at dinner? I swallowed.
Should I say it? Should I tell him I saw James put something in my glass? But then I’d have to explain why Samantha drank from it instead. No. Nothing out of the ordinary, I lied.
It was a normal dinner. We were talking, eating. Then, all of a sudden, Samantha got sick.
Did you see anyone approach her glass? A waiter, maybe. Or any of the guests. I shook my head.
No, I didn’t notice anything. Did you leave the table at any point? Just to go to the ladies’ room? Maybe ten minutes. He made a note in his pad.
Did anyone else leave the table? I thought for a moment. James had stepped out a few times to take calls. My mother-in-law.
I think she went to the restroom too at some point. My father-in-law was at the table the whole time, as far as I remember. And Samantha.
She got up once, I think. I’m not sure exactly when. He nodded.
Alright. One last question. Do you know if anyone had any reason to harm Samantha? I nearly laughed.
I had reasons. Plenty of them. 20 years worth.
20 years of cruelty, insults, condescension. No, I said. As far as I know, Samantha got along with everyone.
She’s…very well liked. That lie came too easily. Far too easily.
Alright, he said, closing his notebook. If you remember anything else, anything that might help, please don’t hesitate to call me. He handed me a card.
I walked him to the door, then returned to the living room and collapsed into a chair. Police. An investigation.
This was getting real. Too real. If they found a witness who saw me switch the glasses.
If they pulled fingerprints from the glass. If Samantha died. No, I couldn’t even let myself think that.
She wasn’t going to die. She couldn’t die. That would be too much.
Too awful. I glanced at my phone, wondering if I should call James. But what would I even say? And what would he say to me? If he really had tried to poison me, talking to him now would only put me in more danger.
I went upstairs to our bedroom and started packing, moving on autopilot. A couple of changes of clothes, my documents, some emergency cash I’d stashed away. I couldn’t stay in that house.
I couldn’t wait around for James to come back. I needed time, time to think, to figure out what to do next. Once the small bag was packed, I headed downstairs, grabbed my car keys, and stepped outside.
Just then, my phone rang again from inside my bag. I pulled it out, half expecting to see James’ name on the screen, but it was my father-in-law. Robert.
I tried to keep my voice steady. Emily, his voice was low, tense, almost a whisper. Are you home alone? Yes.
James is still at the hospital with Samantha. I know. Listen to me very carefully.
Don’t stay there. You need to leave. Right now.
I froze. What? Why? What’s going on? I can’t explain over the phone. Just trust me.
You need to go. And be careful. They might be watching you.
They? Robert, what are you talking about? We’ll talk later. For now, just leave. And don’t tell anyone where you’re going.
Not even me. He hung up before I could say another word, leaving me completely shaken. What was that? A warning.
From who? And why was Robert suddenly trying to protect me? But there was no time to sit and analyze. I got into the car and pulled out of the driveway. Where to? I didn’t have many options.
Over the years with James, I’d grown apart from almost everyone I once trusted. His family, his friends, his world. It had all become mine.
And Samantha had made sure that my old connections slowly faded away. They’re just not our kind, darling, she used to say in that fake sweet tone. And James would always agree.
There was only one person I could turn to. Chloe, an old college friend. We’d stayed in touch all these years, even if we didn’t see each other often.
She lived in a quiet suburb, in a small house she’d inherited from her grandmother. The last time I’d seen her was about a year ago, for her birthday. James had been on a business trip, or at least, that’s what he told me.
I dialed Chloe’s number, praying she’d pick up despite the late hour. Hello? Her voice was groggy with sleep. Chloe, it’s me, Emily.
I’m so sorry for calling this late, but I need your help. Can I come to you? Right now? She was instantly awake. Of course.
What’s going on? I’ll explain everything when I get there. I just… I don’t have anywhere else to go. Come.
I’m here. I ended the call and glanced into the rearview mirror. Was anyone following me? Robert had said they might be watching.
But who exactly were they? James. The police. Someone else.
Once I reached the main road, I made a conscious effort to stay alert. I changed my route multiple times, circled through side streets, stopped at gas stations just to watch, see if anyone pulled in behind me. But everything was quiet.
No one seemed to be tailing me. An hour and a half later, I pulled up in front of Chloe’s house. She was already on the porch, wrapped in a robe, waiting.
Emily, what’s going on? She asked as soon as I stepped out of the car. Are you okay? I shook my head. No.
I’m not okay. Can we go inside? I’ll explain everything. We went into the house.
Chloe led me to the kitchen and turned on the kettle. Talk to me, she said, sitting across from me. And I did.
I told her everything, from the moment I saw James put something in my glass, to swapping the glasses, to Samantha collapsing, the visit from the police officer, and finally, Robert’s strange phone call. Chloe listened without interrupting, her eyes widening with every word. Oh my god, em, she breathed when I finished.
That’s… horrifying. Do you really think James tried to poison you? I don’t know what to think. I admit it.
I saw him slip something into my glass. That part is real. But why? Why would he do something like that? We’ve been married for 20 years.
We have a daughter. Yes, we’ve grown apart lately, but still, this? It just doesn’t make sense. And your father-in-law? Why would he warn you? I don’t know.
He’s always been kinder to me than the rest of the family, but this? This was different. Maybe he knows something. Maybe he knows what James is planning.
Chloe thoughtfully turned her teacup in her hands. What about life insurance? Do you two have policies? I nodded. Yes, both of us.
Large ones. James insisted on it a few years ago, said it was standard for people in our financial position. And who’s the beneficiary on yours? James, of course.
And I’m listed on his. Chloe raised an eyebrow. There’s your motive.
But that’s crazy. James doesn’t need money. His business is doing well.
He earns way more than the payout on my policy. Are you sure about that? Do you really know his financial situation? I hesitated. In recent years, James hadn’t shared many details about his business.
I knew he owned a chain of restaurants and nightclubs and had a few investment ventures. But specifics? No. I wasn’t in the loop.
Not really, I admit it. But he’s never said anything about money problems. We live in a luxury home, have two cars, take vacations abroad at least twice a year.
He doesn’t seem like someone desperate for cash. No, he doesn’t, Chloe agreed. But you said yourself, he’s been different lately.
Maybe his business isn’t as stable as it looks. I remembered something, months ago, James had been unusually tense and irritable. He got a phone call during dinner, apologized, and stepped out.
When he came back, he looked pale and upset. I asked if everything was okay, and he brushed me off. Just issues with one of the projects.
Nothing serious. But that night, he drank far more than usual, and I heard him on the phone late into the night, locked in his office. Maybe, I said.
But still, going from financial stress to attempted murder. That’s a massive leap. What if he’s in love with someone else? Chloe offered.
What if he wants a divorce, but doesn’t want to split the assets? That thought had already crossed my mind. I’d noticed how James lit up when certain texts popped up on his phone. How he sometimes smiled at the screen when he thought I wasn’t watching.
How those so-called business dinners started happening more and more often. If that’s the case, divorce would be easier than murder, I argued. We have a prenup.
If we split up, I get a specific payout, but most of the assets stay with him. What if he didn’t even want to pay that? Or what if the prenup has a clause about infidelity? It does, I admitted. If I’m found to have been unfaithful, I get nothing.
If he is, I get half of everything. There you go. That’s a motive.
I shook my head. I still can’t believe it. 20 years, Chloe.
20 years together. Could he really have changed that much? People change, M. Especially when there’s money involved, or someone new. We sat in her kitchen until sunrise, running through every possible explanation, trying to piece it all together.
Around 6 in the morning, my phone rang. James. Don’t answer it, Chloe said quickly.
You don’t know what he knows. Maybe the police already found a witness who saw you switch the glasses. I listened to her, and let the phone ring out.
A minute later, a message came through, Where are you? Call me. It’s urgent. Chloe took the phone from me and powered it off.
For now, it’s better if you stay off the radar. We need to figure out what’s going on before you talk to him. She was right, even though part of me desperately wanted to hear his voice, to ask him straight, why? Why would you do this? But first, we had to understand what we were dealing with.
We decided I’d stay with Chloe for a few days. She lived alone and worked remotely as an interior designer, so my being there wouldn’t raise any suspicions. After a breakfast neither of us could stomach, I went to lie down in the guest room.
Exhaustion and stress finally caught up to me, and I fell into a heavy, restless sleep. I woke to Chloe shaking my shoulder. Emily, wake up.
There’s news. I sat up, disoriented. It was already dark outside.
What time is it? Almost eight. You slept all day. But that’s not important.
Turn your phone on. She handed me my phone, and as soon as I powered it up, the notifications flooded in. Missed calls, messages.
Mostly from James. A few from Robert. One from Catherine.
I opened my daughter’s message. Mom, where are you? Dad says he can’t reach you. Something happened to Aunt Sam.
Please call me. A chill ran down my spine. Chloe, what happened to Samantha? I don’t know the full details.
I turned your phone on about an hour ago, saw all those messages, and decided to check the news. I found this. She handed me her tablet, a local news site pulled up.
The headline read, Sister of prominent restaurateur in critical condition after poisoning. I started reading. The article said Samantha Prescott, sister of well-known restaurant owner James Prescott, had been admitted to intensive care following a suspected poisoning during a family dinner.
Her condition was listed as critical. The police were investigating, treating the case as a possible deliberate poisoning. Oh my god, I whispered.
She’s in critical condition. What if she… I couldn’t even say the words. What have I done, Chloe? You didn’t mean to hurt her, Chloe said firmly.
You were protecting yourself. If anyone’s to blame, it’s James, for slipping something into your drink in the first place. But what if I was wrong? What if I misunderstood? What if it was something harmless, vitamins or medicine, and I just assumed? I trailed off, realizing how absurd it sounded.
No. That makes no sense. Who puts vitamins into someone’s drink in secret? Exactly, Chloe said.
But the real question was, what now? Should I stay here? Go to the hospital? Contact James? I sat there, trying to decide. I need to find out how Samantha’s doing. And I need to come clean.
I can’t keep this to myself. If something happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself. Wait, Chloe said, stopping me.
Let’s not rush into anything. First, we need to know exactly what was in that glass. If it was poison, you could be next.
But how do we find that out? I have a friend in the police force, an old classmate. I can call him, ask him to look into the case. Quietly.
You think he’ll help? I helped him once, big time. I think he’ll say yes. Chloe grabbed her phone and stepped out of the room.
I sat on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. My thoughts were a tangled mess. What should I do? What was the right thing? Ten minutes later, Chloe came back.
He’ll call back as soon as he finds something out. But it might take a little while. Thank you, I said, squeezing her hand.
You’re a true friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Always, she smiled.
Now let’s figure out what else we can do. I need to call Catherine, I said. She’s worried.
Chloe nodded. Yeah, but be careful. Don’t tell her where you are or what actually happened.
Say you had to leave town for something and forgot your phone at home. Or something like that. I dialed my daughter’s number.
She picked up immediately, like she’d been holding the phone in her hand, waiting. Mom. Finally.
Where have you been? Why haven’t you answered? Dad’s freaking out. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I said. Trying to keep my voice steady.
My phone died and I left the charger at home. I’m staying with a friend for a bit. I just needed some fresh air.
What friend? Why didn’t you tell dad? Do you know what happened to Aunt Sam? Yes, I heard. It’s terrible. How is she? She’s still unconscious.
The doctor said it was some kind of strong drug. They’re doing everything they can, but… Her voice cracked with tears. Mom, it’s so scary.
Who would do something like this? I don’t know, sweetheart. That’s what the investigation is for. How’s your dad? He hasn’t left Aunt Sam’s side.
Grandma’s there too. Everyone’s just waiting for her to wake up. Dad called you like a hundred times.
He’s really worried. Tell him I’m okay. I just… I needed some time alone.
After what happened at the restaurant, I was in shock. Okay, I’ll tell him. But are you coming home soon? Soon, I lied.
I just need a bit of time. All right, Catherine said, though I could hear the doubt in her voice. But call dad, please.
He’s really worried. I will. I love you, honey.
