My Late Son Warned Me In A Dream Not To Eat My Birthday Cake. My Husband Of 35 Years Baked It Himself. Now I Know The Terrifying Reason Why.
The Confrontation
I walked away from that table, away from that poisoned cake and into the bathroom. I locked the door and braced myself against the sink, breathing hard. I’d done it. I’d resisted. Now Clare just needed to get a sample and we could…
I heard raised voices from the dining room. My blood went cold. I rushed out to find Clare standing holding Emma behind her protectively. David was red-faced, aggressive. And in Clare’s other hand was a plastic bag with a piece of my birthday cake inside.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
David snarled at Clare.
“What am I doing? What are you doing, Dad?”
Clare’s voice was shaking but strong.
“Why did you put something in Mom’s cake?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Because I just watched you through the kitchen door before dinner. I saw you inject something into this cake with a syringe. So I’m going to ask you one more time: what did you put in my mother’s birthday cake?”
The room went silent. Emma started crying. I stepped forward, putting myself between Clare and David. David’s face went through a series of expressions: shock, rage, calculation, and finally resignation. He sagged into his chair.
“You weren’t supposed to know,”
he said quietly.
“It was supposed to be peaceful. Like she just went to sleep.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Hearing him admit it so casually, so matter-of-factly. Clare made a sound like a wounded animal.
“Why?”
I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
“Why would you do this to me? I loved you. I gave you 35 years of my life.”
He laughed a bitter, ugly sound.
“Loved me? You’ve been a ghost since Michael died. You barely look at me anymore. You’re just existing. And I’m drowning, Maggie. I’m drowning in debt. And Rachel and I, we have a chance at a real life. She understands me. She…”
“Rachel,”
I interrupted.
“Michael’s wife? You’re having an affair with our dead son’s wife?”
“Michael was a mistake,”
David said coldly.
“He should have never married her in the first place. She was always meant for me.”
The words were so monstrous, so incomprehensible that for a moment I couldn’t even process them. A mistake? Our son was a mistake?
“His death was convenient, though,”
David continued, and there was something broken in his eyes now, something that had maybe always been broken.
“The insurance money helped, but it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. But your policies, Maggie… 1.2 million. That would solve everything.”
Claire’s voice cut through the horror.
“Did you kill Michael? Did you kill my brother?”
David didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. The guilt was written all over his face. Clare pulled out her phone.
“I’m calling the police.”
“With what evidence?”
David stood up, suddenly aggressive again.
“You’ve got nothing. A piece of cake? I’ll just say I added rum or something. You can’t prove anything.”
“Actually,”
I said, and my voice was steady now, clear and strong.
“We can.”
I pulled out my phone and played the recording. Because I’d started recording the moment I walked out of that bathroom and heard raised voices. David’s confession, all of it was captured clearly on audio.
“You weren’t supposed to know… it was supposed to be peaceful… Michael was a mistake… his death was convenient… your policies 1.2 million…”
David’s face went white as he heard his own words played back to him. He lunged for my phone, but Clare stepped in front of me. Emma was still crying in the corner and my heart broke for her, for having to witness this, for losing her innocence in the worst possible way.
