PART 2 — The Poison Hidden Beneath the Gold
The little boy who used to climb into my lap whenever I visited was now lying unconscious because of a gift meant to kill me.
“I’m coming,” I told Emily.
I grabbed my coat, Nathan’s birthday card, and the blue velvet box’s cream ribbon, which I had somehow left in my handbag.
My hands shook so badly that I dropped my car keys twice.
When I reached the hospital, two police officers were standing outside the emergency room.
Nathan was pacing near the nurses’ station.
The moment he saw me, he rushed forward.
“What were you thinking?” he shouted. “Why would you give the children something that belonged to you?”
I stared at him.
Not “Are the children all right?”
Not “Who could have done this?”
His first concern was why I had not eaten the chocolates.
“You sent them to me,” I said quietly.
Several people turned toward us.
Nathan’s face changed.
“I bought you a gift,” he said. “How was I supposed to know something was wrong with it?”
“Where did you buy it?”
His mouth opened, but no answer came.
Emily appeared from behind a curtain.
Her face was pale, and there were tears in her eyes.
“Sophie is awake,” she said. “Ben still hasn’t opened his eyes.”
I hurried toward her, but Nathan caught my arm.
“Don’t say anything to the police until we understand what happened.”
I looked down at his fingers gripping my sleeve.
“Why are you afraid of what I might say?”
He released me immediately.
“I’m trying to protect the family.”
“From whom, Nathan?”
Before he could answer, one of the officers approached us.
A woman in a dark coat followed him.
She introduced herself as Detective Laura Bennett.
“We need to speak with each of you separately,” she said.
Nathan forced a laugh.
“Detective, this is obviously an accident. Maybe the chocolates spoiled during delivery.”
“The emergency room doctor does not believe this was food poisoning,” she replied. “The children showed signs of ingesting a toxic chemical.”
Nathan stopped smiling.
“What chemical?”
“The laboratory is still running tests.”
The detective turned toward me.
“Mrs. Ellis, were the chocolates sealed when you received them?”
“Yes.”
“Who knew you would be home that morning?”
“My son.”
Nathan’s eyes snapped toward me.
“I sent her a birthday gift. That doesn’t make me a criminal.”
“No one called you one,” Detective Bennett said.
Her calm voice seemed to frighten him more than an accusation would have.
She took me into a small family waiting room and closed the door.
I told her everything.
I explained how Nathan had called at exactly seven.
I repeated every question he had asked.
Had I eaten one?
Had Emily tasted one?
Had the children touched them?
Then I gave her his handwritten card.
She placed it inside a clear evidence bag.
“Do you recognize the handwriting?”
“It’s Nathan’s.”
“Did he make the chocolates himself?”
“I don’t know.”
“Has your son ever threatened you?”
The question hurt more than I expected.
“No.”
Then I remembered something.
Three weeks earlier, Nathan had visited me with a folder of papers.
He said I needed to sign them because I was getting older.
He called them emergency documents.
When I told him I wanted my attorney to read them first, he became angry.
He accused me of treating him like a stranger.
Detective Bennett leaned forward.
“What were the documents?”
“A power of attorney and permission to sell my house if I became unable to care for myself.”
“Did you sign them?”
“No.”
“Who inherits your property if you die?”
I looked at the floor.
“Nathan inherits almost everything.”
The detective’s expression stayed still, but I saw the answer register in her eyes.
My house was worth nearly six hundred thousand dollars.
Robert had also left investments and retirement savings.
Nathan knew the exact amount because he had helped me organize the accounts after Robert’s death.
“I don’t believe my son would murder me for money,” I whispered.
Detective Bennett did not argue.
She only asked, “Does he have financial problems?”
“I don’t know.”
That was not entirely true.
Nathan and Emily lived in a large house, drove expensive cars, and took vacations they rarely discussed.
Whenever I asked how his business was doing, Nathan changed the subject.
The detective thanked me and left to speak with him.
I walked into Sophie’s room.
My ten-year-old granddaughter looked tiny beneath the hospital blanket.
Her skin was almost gray.
A tube ran into her arm, and a monitor beeped beside the bed.
“Grandma,” she whispered.
I sat beside her and took her hand.
“I’m here, sweetheart.”
“Is Ben going to die?”
“No,” I said, although nobody had promised me that. “Your brother is strong.”
Tears slid down her cheeks.
“We only ate two.”
“Two chocolates?”
She nodded.
“Ben ate one, and I ate one. They tasted funny, so we threw the rest away.”
“Where?”
“In the kitchen trash.”
That meant ten chocolates might still exist.
I hurried into the hallway and found Detective Bennett.
“The rest of the chocolates may be in Nathan’s kitchen trash.”
She immediately sent the officers to the house.
Nathan watched us from the other side of the waiting room.
His face darkened when he realized I had told the detective something.
He walked toward me.
“What did Sophie say?”
“That the remaining chocolates are in your trash.”
His face lost all color.
Then he reached for his phone.
Detective Bennett stepped between us.
“Please put the phone away, Mr. Ellis.”
“I need to call someone from work.”
“You can do that after we finish talking.”
His eyes moved toward the exit.
For one terrible second, I thought he might run.
Then a doctor entered the hallway.
“Family of Benjamin Ellis?”
We all rushed toward him.
The doctor removed his glasses.
“Ben’s condition is serious, but we have identified the toxin and started treatment. His heart rhythm is becoming more stable.”
Emily covered her mouth and began sobbing.
“What was it?” Nathan asked.
The doctor looked at Detective Bennett before answering.
“A concentrated pesticide. It appears to have been injected into the centers of the chocolates.”
Injected.
The word struck me like ice.
This was not an accident at a factory.
Someone had deliberately filled those chocolates with poison.
“Will he wake up?” I asked.
“We believe he has a good chance, but the next several hours are critical.”
Emily leaned against the wall.
Nathan did not comfort her.
He stared at the floor, whispering something I could not hear.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
I stepped closer.
“You said this wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Nathan’s head shot up.
“I said the children didn’t deserve this.”
“That isn’t what I heard.”
His eyes filled with anger.
“You’ve always done this, Mom. You twist everything until I look like the villain.”
“My grandchildren are fighting for their lives!”
“And whose fault is that?” he shouted. “You gave them the box!”
The entire hallway became silent.
Emily stared at him as if she had never seen him before.
Then she slapped him.
The sound echoed through the corridor.
“You knew,” she whispered.
Nathan touched his cheek.
“Emily, stop.”
“You knew something was wrong with those chocolates.”
“I knew nothing.”
“Then why did you tell me to throw them away?”
My heart stopped.
Detective Bennett stepped forward.
“When did he tell you that?”
Emily’s eyes widened.
She seemed to realize she had revealed something she had meant to hide.
“Emily,” the detective said, “when did your husband tell you to throw away the chocolates?”
“The night Margaret brought them.”
“Before or after the children ate them?”
“Before.”
A cold silence settled over us.
“You had the box for hours,” I said. “Why didn’t you throw it away?”
“I was going to,” Emily cried. “I put it on top of the refrigerator, but Sophie found it while I was upstairs. I didn’t know they were poisoned. Nathan only said Margaret shouldn’t have brought them back.”
“Brought them back?” Detective Bennett repeated.
Emily closed her eyes.
Nathan turned toward her.
“Don’t say another word.”
The detective looked directly at him.
“Mr. Ellis, why would you describe chocolates delivered to your mother as being brought back?”
Nathan said nothing.
Emily began shaking.
“He made them in our kitchen,” she whispered.
Nathan lunged toward her, but the officer grabbed his arm.
“She’s lying!”
“I saw the molds,” Emily continued. “He told me they were a surprise for Margaret. After she brought the box to our house, he called and ordered me to destroy it.”
“Because you knew what was inside,” I said.
“No!” Nathan shouted. “Because they were never supposed to come back!”
The officer placed him against the wall and searched him.
Inside his coat pocket, he found a small silver key.
Nathan struggled when Detective Bennett held it up.
“What does this open?”
“It’s for work.”
“What kind of work?”
“My storage unit.”
The detective handed the key to the officer.
“We’ll obtain a warrant.”
Nathan suddenly stopped fighting.
For the first time, he looked truly terrified.
It was not the fear of an innocent man being misunderstood.
It was the fear of a secret about to be discovered.
A nurse led Emily away for another update on Ben.
Nathan was taken downstairs for questioning.
I returned to Sophie’s room and sat beside her.
She had heard the shouting.
“Is Daddy in trouble?” she asked.
“I don’t know, sweetheart.”
She stared at the cream ribbon sticking out of my handbag.
“That came from the chocolate box.”
“Yes.”
Her fingers tightened around mine.
“Grandma, Daddy didn’t make those chocolates alone.”
Every hair on my arms rose.
“What do you mean?”
“I saw someone helping him in the kitchen,” Sophie whispered.
“Was it your mother?”
She shook her head.
“Who was it?”
Sophie glanced fearfully toward the open doorway.
Then she pulled me closer and whispered a name I had not heard in twenty-five years.
It was the name of Nathan’s biological mother.
The woman everyone had told me died in the car accident.
Before I could ask another question, every light in the hospital suddenly went dark.
And somewhere in the black hallway, a woman’s voice softly called my name.
“Margaret… you should have eaten the chocolates.”…
