PART 3
The boy who once told me I made the best pancakes in New York.
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Now he was lying in a hospital bed because of a box of chocolates I had carried into his home.
“Emily,” I whispered, “I need you to listen to me.”
“What?”
“I didn’t eat those chocolates.”
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“I know.”
“I gave them to you.”
“I know.”
“No,” I said, my voice shaking. “You don’t understand. Nathan gave them to me yesterday. They were supposed to be a birthday gift.”
Emily began crying harder.
“I know.”
“Then why would anyone poison them?”
“I don’t know.”
But something about the way she said it made me stop.
She knew something.
Maybe not everything.
But something.
“Emily.”
“What?”
“Where is Nathan?”
“He’s here.”
“Put him on the phone.”
“He won’t talk to you.”
“Put him on.”
“He’s with the doctors.”
“Emily.”
My voice became firm.
“Put my son on the phone.”
A long pause followed.
Then I heard Nathan in the background.
“What does she want?”
Emily whispered something.
His voice came through the phone.
“Mom.”
I felt an unexpected wave of anger.
Not because he was scared.
Not because he was confused.
Because he sounded annoyed.
As if I had caused an inconvenience.
“Nathan.”
“What?”
“You gave me those chocolates.”
“Yes.”
“Where did you buy them?”
Silence.
“Nathan?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember?”
“They were homemade.”
“By whom?”
Another pause.
“I don’t know.”
I stared at the wall.
“You don’t know who made a dozen chocolates you gave your sixty-ninth birthday mother?”
“Mom, this isn’t the time.”
“No,” I replied quietly.
“It isn’t.”
I hung up.
Then I sat down.
My hands were trembling.
The first thought that came to me was absurdly simple.
I could have died.
If I had eaten even one chocolate…
I stopped myself.
There was no point imagining it.
Instead, I looked at the birthday card sitting beside my coffee cup.
To the best mother in the world, with all my love, Nathan.
I picked it up.
Something was wrong.
The handwriting looked like Nathan’s.
But the signature didn’t.
Nathan always signed his name with an exaggerated loop at the end.
This signature was short.
Careful.
Almost copied.
I walked to the cabinet where I kept old birthday cards.
There were dozens.
Cards from Robert.
Cards from Nathan when he was a child.
Cards from Sophie and Ben.
I pulled out the oldest one Nathan had given me.
Then another.
Then another.
I compared the signatures.
My stomach tightened.
The signature on the chocolate card wasn’t Nathan’s.
It was an imitation.
Someone had copied my son’s handwriting.
I immediately called the hospital.
A nurse answered.
“Can I speak with Emily?”
“She’s unavailable.”
“I’m the grandmother of Sophie and Ben Ellis.”
There was a pause.
“Are you Margaret Ellis?”
“Yes.”
“The physician would like to speak with you.”
A few moments later, a calm male voice came through.
“This is Dr. Harris.”
“How are my grandchildren?”
“Sophie is stable.”
“And Ben?”
“We’re still working on him.”
I closed my eyes.
“What kind of poison?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Was it definitely the chocolate?”
“The symptoms are consistent with a toxic ingestion, and the remaining chocolates are being tested.”
“How many did they eat?”
“That’s unclear.”
“Can I come there?”
“Yes.”
I grabbed my purse.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
The drive to the hospital felt endless.
Every red light seemed deliberately placed in my path.
I kept thinking about yesterday.
The velvet box.
The golden decorations.
Nathan’s card.
Emily’s strange expression when I handed it to her.
And then I remembered something else.
When I gave her the chocolates, she hadn’t opened the box.
Not once.
She had simply stared at it.
At the time, I’d assumed she was tired.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
When I reached the hospital, Emily was sitting outside the pediatric emergency department.
Her eyes were swollen from crying.
She stood immediately.
“Margaret.”
I hugged her.
She clung to me.
“I’m sorry.”
I pulled back.
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Because I should never have let them eat them.”
“You didn’t know.”
She shook her head.
“I should have.”
“What does that mean?”
Emily looked toward the hallway.
“Not here.”
She took me to a quiet corner.
Then she whispered,
“Nathan has been acting strange for weeks.”
My heart sank.
“How?”
“He’s been getting calls late at night.”
“From whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He said it was business.”
“Is he having financial problems?”
Emily hesitated.
“Yes.”
“How bad?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked around before continuing.
“Three months ago, Nathan lost a major client.”
I nodded.
“That happens.”
“This wasn’t just a lost client.”
“What happened?”
“He owed money.”
“How much?”
Emily swallowed.
“Almost half a million dollars.”
I stared at her.
“Half a million?”
“He borrowed it from someone.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Emily, please.”
She looked terrified.
“I think he was involved with people he shouldn’t have been.”
My mind immediately returned to the chocolates.
“Do you think Nathan poisoned me?”
Emily’s eyes widened.
“No.”
“Then why did he react like that when I told him I hadn’t eaten them?”
She didn’t answer.
That silence was answer enough.
Before I could say anything else, a doctor approached.
“Mrs. Ellis?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Dr. Harris.”
He looked at Emily.
“I’m afraid Ben has taken a turn.”
Emily nearly collapsed.
I grabbed her arm.
“What happened?”
“We’ve had difficulty stabilizing him.”
“Is he going to die?”
The doctor paused.
“We’re doing everything we can.”
Emily began sobbing.
I held her.
Then I saw Nathan walking toward us.
He looked exhausted.
His shirt was wrinkled.
His face was pale.
But when his eyes met mine, something changed.
Fear.
Not grief.
Fear.
He walked directly toward me.
“Mom.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
His eyes dropped.
“What?”
“Why did you give me those chocolates?”
“I told you.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You didn’t tell me.”
He looked around.
“Mom, this isn’t the place.”
“It is exactly the place.”
His jaw tightened.
“I didn’t know they were poisoned.”
“Then why did you panic when I told you I gave them to the children?”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
I watched him carefully.
Then I asked the question that had been sitting inside me since the phone call.
“Were those chocolates meant to kill me?”
Nathan’s face went completely white.
Emily gasped.
“Margaret…”
Nathan looked at me.
“Who told you that?”
“No one.”
I pointed toward the emergency room.
“Your reaction did.”
He stepped backward.
“I never wanted this.”
The words hit me harder than anything else.
I never wanted this.
Not I didn’t do it.
Not I would never hurt you.
Just:
I never wanted this.
I stared at my son.
“What did you do?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“I borrowed money.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I couldn’t pay it back.”
“From whom?”
He didn’t answer.
“Who?”
His voice dropped.
“They said they would leave my family alone if I did what they asked.”
My heart stopped.
“What did they ask?”
He looked directly at me.
“They told me to give you the chocolates.”
Emily covered her mouth.
I felt as if someone had struck me.
“Why me?”
“They knew about your house.”
“What about my house?”
“They know you’re selling it.”
I stared at him.
“How would they know that?”
Nathan looked away.
I felt something inside me break.
I had planned to sell my house after Robert died.
It was too large for me.
But I had never publicly announced it.
Only a few people knew.
Robert’s lawyer.
My real estate agent.
Nathan.
I looked at my son.
“You told them about my house.”
He closed his eyes.
“I needed the money.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand.”
“And they promised to forgive your debt if I died?”
He didn’t answer.
I already knew.
The hallway seemed to become very quiet.
Then I noticed something.
A man was standing near the elevators.
Dark coat.
Gray hair.
Watching us.
The instant I looked at him, he turned away.
“Nathan.”
“What?”
“Who is that?”
Nathan looked.
His face changed.
“Get Emily and leave.”
“Who is he?”
“Mom, go.”
The man stepped into the elevator.
Nathan grabbed my arm.
“Do not follow him.”
I pulled away.
“You’re going to tell me everything.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“After this is over.”
“No.”
I looked him directly in the eyes.
“It’s already over for me.”
He stared at me.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re no longer my son when you need money.”
His face crumpled.
“Mom…”
I walked away.
But before I reached the exit, Emily caught up with me.
“Margaret.”
I turned.
She was holding something.
A small envelope.
“I found this in Nathan’s jacket.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed my house.
Taken from across the street.
On the back were six words.
She knows nothing about the basement.
My heart began pounding.
Basement.
I had never told Nathan about the basement.
There was something beneath my house.
Something I had forgotten existed.
Not entirely.
But almost.
Years earlier, when Robert and I bought the property, the previous owner mentioned an old wine cellar beneath the garage.
Robert had been fascinated by it.
But after he died, I had never gone down there again.
I suddenly remembered something Robert once told me.
“If anything ever happens to me, don’t let Nathan go through the old cellar.”
At the time, I thought it was just another one of his strange precautions.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
I folded the photograph.
“I need to go home.”
Emily grabbed my hand.
“Margaret, please be careful.”
“I will.”
“And don’t tell Nathan where you’re going.”
I nodded.
For the first time in sixty-nine years, I realized something terrifying.
The greatest danger to me might not be a stranger.
It might be someone who knew exactly how much I trusted my own family.
When I arrived home, the front door was locked.
Exactly as I’d left it.
But something felt different.
I walked slowly through the living room.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
Then I noticed the hallway mirror.
There was a fingerprint on the glass.
Fresh.
At shoulder height.
I stepped closer.
Underneath it was a tiny smear of dark red.
Blood.
My heart started pounding.
I immediately called the police.
While I waited, I walked toward the basement.
The door was closed.
I had locked it years ago.
I reached for the handle.
It turned.
Unlocked.
Someone had been down there.
I grabbed a flashlight.
Then I heard something.
A faint metallic click.
From beneath the basement stairs.
I aimed the flashlight toward the sound.
There was a wooden panel.
It was slightly open.
I had never noticed it before.
I pulled it wider.
Behind it was a narrow staircase descending into darkness.
My phone rang.
I nearly dropped it.
It was Nathan.
I answered.
His voice was barely a whisper.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“Don’t go downstairs.”
I stared at the hidden staircase.
“How did you know I was downstairs?”
Silence.
Then he said,
“Because they’re watching you.”
“Who?”
“They know you found the photograph.”
“How?”
Another pause.
“Mom…”
“What?”
“If you find the red ledger, don’t give it to anyone.”
My blood ran cold.
“What red ledger?”
He hung up.
I stood there in the darkness.
Then I heard footsteps below me.
One.
Two.
Three.
Someone was coming up.
I raised the flashlight.
A man’s face slowly appeared from beneath the staircase.
And I recognized him.
He was the same man I’d seen at the hospital.
He smiled.
Then he said,
“Mrs. Ellis, your husband left you something very important.”
I stepped backward.
“What?”
“The truth.”
Behind him, something metallic glinted in the darkness.
He reached into his coat.
I thought he was pulling a weapon.
Instead, he pulled out a small photograph.
He held it toward me.
It showed Robert.
Alive.
Standing beside a younger Nathan.
And between them was a third man.
The man standing in my basement.
I stared at the photograph.
“Who are you?”
He looked at me.
“My name is Daniel Price.”
The same name from the hidden records.
The same name connected to the house.
He lowered his voice.
“And your husband wasn’t killed in an accident.”
My heart stopped.
“What are you saying?”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Robert Ellis was murdered.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“And your son knows why.”
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