Chapter 8 - The Lockdown
The word poison sent a shockwave of absolute terror through the crowded ballroom.
My elegant Thanksgiving dinner had instantly transformed into an active, horrific crime scene.
The paramedics successfully stabilized my mother and rushed her out to the waiting ambulance.
Before anyone else could leave, a squad of police officers marched through the front entrance.
The lead detective ordered my security guards to lock the heavy iron gates of the estate immediately.
He loudly announced that nobody was allowed to leave the six-million-dollar mansion until the poisoner was identified.
My hundred distinguished guests were cordoned off in the east wing of the house.
My father, James, Robert, and I were detained in the luxurious main living room.
The detective demanded to know exactly what my mother had consumed since arriving at the party.
I explained that she had only drank one single glass of vintage champagne from the serving tray.
The police immediately confiscated the remaining crystal glasses for emergency forensic testing.
James pointed a shaking finger directly at me, loudly accusing me of attempting to murder our mother out of spite.
He claimed I had invited them here specifically to execute a twisted, public revenge plot.
I remained completely calm, refusing to let his desperate lies provoke me.
I informed the detective that I had state-of-the-art security cameras recording every inch of the ballroom.
We walked into my private security office to review the high-definition footage from the last hour.
I fast-forwarded the video to the exact moment my family walked through the front doors.
We zoomed in on my mother grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing silver tray.
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The detective paused the video, his eyes narrowing at a shadowy figure standing behind the waiter.
The camera clearly showed Uncle Arthur slipping a small, dissolving pill into her specific glass.
