Chapter 5 - The Poisoned Table
By Sunday evening, the atmosphere inside my parents' house was suffocating.
My mother had prepared a full roast beef dinner, believing we were celebrating our first weekend as a married couple. The dining room table was set with her finest china, crystal glasses, and fresh flowers she had picked from the back garden.
Walter sat at the head of the table, carving the meat with methodical precision. On his right sat my mother; on his left sat Chloe and me. Uncle Patrick sat at the far end, staring silently into his lap.
"Pass the potatoes to Chloe, Martha," Walter said pleasantly, as if the screaming match in his office yesterday had never occurred. "She needs to eat up. Schoolteachers work hard, don't they, Chloe?"
Chloe forced a nod, keeping her eyes fixed on her plate. "Yes, Dad."
I sat stiffly, unable to touch my food. Every time Walter’s knife scraped against the china plate, it sounded like metal scraping on bone.
"Brandon tells me you two are thinking about buying that little starter home over on Elm Street," Walter continued, placing a thick slice of beef on my mother's plate. "I told him this morning... I might just buy it outright for you kids. Cash. A wedding gift from your old man."
My mother smiled softly, her eyes filling with warmth. "Oh, Walter... that's so generous of you."
"Generous?" I blurted out, my voice dripping with cold irony. "Yeah, Dad's real generous with his money."
The table went instantly silent.
My mother looked up, startled. Chloe reached under the tablecloth and gripped my knee warningly. Uncle Patrick raised his head, his eyes warning me to stop.
Walter slowly set his carving knife down. He picked up his linen napkin and wiped his mouth, his gaze locking onto mine with absolute, murderous intensity.
"Is there something you'd like to say, son?" Walter asked, his voice soft, almost polite, but carrying a deadly undertone.
"I just think Mom ought to know where all this 'generosity' comes from," I said, leaning forward.
My mother's smile faded. She looked between Walter and me, her hands trembling as she set her fork down. "Brandon... what are you talking about?"
"Brandon's just tired, Martha," Walter interrupted smoothly, standing up from his chair. "He's been working too hard at the shop."
"No, Mom," I said, standing up to face my father across the table. "Dad isn't just renting out mixers. He's running cash through the business for George Vance. And Sandra Vance comes through the back door of his room twice a month to drop off the money."
My mother gasped, her hand flying to her chest. The color drained completely from her face, leaving her skin a pale, papery white.
"Brandon, stop!" Chloe cried out, grabbing my arm.
"It's true, Mom!" I continued, ignoring Chloe's plea. "He built that room with the side door so he could hide it from you! He's been lying to you for years!"
My mother turned to Walter, her mouth opening and closing silently. "Walter... is... is this true?"
Walter didn't answer her. He didn't look at her. His eyes remained locked on mine, dark and terrifying.
"You fool," Walter whispered, his voice dangerously low. "You absolute fool."
Suddenly, my mother clutched her left arm. A small, strange gasp escaped her throat. Her eyes rolled back, and before anyone could move, her body slumped sideways, knocking her crystal glass off the table. It shattered against the hardwood floor as she collapsed to the ground.
"Martha!" Uncle Patrick yelled, leaping from his chair.
"Mom!" I screamed, pushing my chair aside and dropping to my knees beside her.
Her skin was clammy, her breathing shallow and ragged. She was having a severe hypertensive crisis.
"Call nine-one-one!" Chloe shouted, already reaching for her phone.
As I cradled my mother's head in my lap, feeling her weak, fluttering pulse, I looked up.
May you like
Walter was still standing at the head of the table. He hadn't moved a muscle. He was looking down at my unconscious mother, then across at me, his face carved from dark, cold stone.
"You did this, Brandon," Walter said quietly over the sound of Chloe frantic shouting into her phone. "You brought this into my house. Whatever happens to her now... it's on your hands."
