Chapter 2: The Truth Beneath the Foam
The nursery fell into a silence so heavy that even the baby's soft breathing sounded deafening.
Emma, still cradling her son against her chest, stared at the white foam bubbling across the hardwood floor. The smell wasn't spoiled milk.
It was bitter.
Chemical.
Wrong.
Her mother, Margaret Whitmore, stood frozen near the doorway, her perfectly composed appearance collapsing before everyone's eyes.
"No..." Margaret whispered, shaking her head. "I didn't know..."
Emma's voice was barely audible.
"Mom... answer me."
The maid, Clara, struggled to her feet despite the burning pain on her cheek.
"I couldn't let the baby drink it."
Emma looked at her in disbelief.
"You knew?"
Clara nodded, tears running freely.
"I saw someone in the kitchen replacing the prepared bottle. I chased after her, but by the time I reached the nursery... Mrs. Whitmore was already handing it to you."
Margaret suddenly burst into tears.
"I made the bottle... but I didn't poison it."
Every eye turned toward her.
"I left it on the kitchen counter for less than a minute."
Emma's stomach tightened.
Someone had switched it.
May you like
Someone inside the house.
And whoever had done it expected an innocent grandmother to take the blame.
