Chapter 3 - The Poisoned Apple
I slowly looked around the dark room.
My military training shifted my brain into absolute survival mode.
I stared at Vanessa and demanded the complete truth.
Vanessa was hyperventilating uncontrollably.
She confessed that my mother had never given the baby to the politician.
My mother had hidden the child away with someone else to completely secure her own financial future.
My mother's face turned bright red with pure anger.
She lunged viciously at Vanessa to silence her.
I grabbed my mother by her expensive silk robe and threw her forcefully onto the couch.
I told her to stay exactly where she was if she wanted to live.
I turned back to look at Grace.
Grace was still leaning weakly against the doorframe.
I gently held her fragile shoulders.
I promised her I was going to find our daughter tonight.
Grace tried to offer a brave smile.
Instead, her beautiful green eyes rolled back into her head.
She collapsed entirely into my arms.
Her body felt incredibly hot to the touch.
I carefully laid her down on the expensive Persian rug.
Her breathing was dangerously erratic and shallow.
I yelled at my sister to call an ambulance immediately.
Vanessa did not move an inch.
She just stared blankly at the floor.
I pulled out my phone and dialed the emergency number myself.
While the phone rang, I noticed something very strange on my mother's hands.
There was a faint blue powder underneath her perfectly manicured fingernails.
I aggressively grabbed her wrist.
I demanded to know exactly what the blue powder was.
My mother desperately tried to pull her hand away.
She claimed it was just an expensive imported makeup brand.
I did not believe her obvious lie for a single second.
I remembered Grace's shaved head and extreme weight loss.
I remembered her flinching in absolute terror when they mentioned lunch earlier.
They had cruelly told Grace she had terminal cancer.
They had been slowly poisoning her for years to justify keeping her trapped in the house.
The blue powder was a highly toxic, slow-acting heavy metal.
I let go of my mother's wrist in absolute, unfiltered disgust.
The emergency operator finally answered the phone call.
I gave them the address and loudly stated that my wife was actively dying.
Suddenly, the main power in the house went out entirely.
The computer monitor died instantly.
The overhead lights shut off.
The room was plunged into absolute, suffocating darkness.
I heard the sound of heavy tactical boots walking across the hardwood floor in the main hallway.
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Someone heavily armed was inside the mansion.
And they had just locked us inside the office from the outside.
