Chapter 4 - Shadows of the Past
I sat in the dark office for nearly an hour, staring at the frozen frame of Vanessa and Julian standing in my kitchen.
The pieces of a horrific puzzle were falling into place. My family’s ancestral estate—a prime ten-acre plot of waterfront land on the edge of the city—had been passed down through four generations. When my father died five years ago, he left the property entirely to my mother in an irrevocable private trust to ensure she would always be financially secure, even if my business failed.
The land was worth at least eight million dollars. Vanessa had known about the trust before we married, but she had always acted indifferent toward it. Now I knew why she had insisted I take the three-month corporate consulting gig in Chicago.
She needed me gone so she could systematically break my mother’s mind and body, poison her into state-certified incompetence, and steal the land deed out from under us.
A knock on my office door shattered the silence.
"Marcus?" Vanessa’s voice called out sweetly from the hallway. "Dinner is ready, darling."
I wiped a rogue tear from my cheek, shut the laptop, and placed it inside my safe. I opened the door with a practiced smile.
"Coming, sweetie," I said, my voice smooth and devoid of tremor.
Downstairs, the dining table was set with candleholders, roasted chicken, and a bottle of expensive red wine. My mother was nowhere to be seen.
"Where’s Mom?" I asked casually, pulling out a chair.
"Oh, she was so exhausted, I brought a small bowl of soup up to her room," Vanessa lied effortlessly, pouring wine into my glass. "She’s already sound asleep."
"You're so thoughtful," I said, taking a sip of the wine. I watched her over the rim of the glass. "You know, Vanessa, while I was in Chicago, I was thinking about the future. I know taking care of Mom has been hard on you."
Vanessa’s eyes lit up with predatory excitement. "It really has been, Marcus! I didn't want to burden you while you were working so hard, but her health has really declined. I think... I think we might need to look into transferring her legal medical authority to me so I can manage her care better."
"Is that so?" I leaned back, cutting a piece of chicken. "What kind of authority?"
"Just full power of attorney," she said casually, buttering a roll. "That way, if she needs specialized care or if we need to adjust her assets to pay for a private nursing facility, I can handle the paperwork without bothering you."
"That sounds reasonable," I lied, smiling softly. "Let me think about it over the weekend. I want to make sure Mom is comfortable first."
Vanessa reached across the table and squeezed my hand. Her touch felt like a viper slithering over my skin. "You're such a good husband, Marcus. I just want what's best for our family."
That night, after Vanessa fell asleep beside me, snoring softly, I slipped out of bed. I crept down to the kitchen pantry, pulled out the spice rack, and found what I was looking for hidden behind a box of Earl Grey tea—a small, unlabeled dropper bottle containing a thick, clear liquid.
May you like
I pulled a clean syringe from my travel medical kit, extracted two milliliters of the solution, sealed it in a sterile plastic bag, and tucked it into my pocket.
The poison was real. And tomorrow, the trap would begin to take shape.
