My Mother-in-law Tried To Poison My Chowder. I’m A Pharmacist, So I Knew Exactly What She Added. I Sent The “gift” To My Cheating Husband Instead.

The Switch

I looked down at the bag of chowder.

The strange scent clung to me.

I imagined myself eating it.

No, I didn’t have to imagine for long.

At the hospital, I had seen enough cases of sudden medical crises, sudden allergic reactions, sudden poisonings.

Some deaths looked like an act of God.

But in reality, they were meticulously planned.

I pulled out my phone.

The screen’s glow illuminated my pale face in the darkness.

I opened the location tracking app Nathan had cheerfully suggested we install when we first got married.

“You can see where I am anytime, honey. I have nothing to hide,”.

I had laughed then, thinking how rare a man like that was.

The blue dot was not at his office as he had claimed.

It was blinking in an upscale condo complex in River North, a place rumored to be a sanctuary for secret relationships.

I looked at the address, my eyes so dry they couldn’t produce tears.

I called his phone.

It rang twice before Nathan answered.

His voice was low, as if he was trying to stay calm in a place where he couldn’t speak loudly.

“Laura, why are you still awake? You’re still working late? You should go to sleep. Don’t wait for me,”.

Hearing those words, I felt a strange sense of detachment.

They were too smooth, as if he had rehearsed them so many times they required no thought.

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to sound as gentle as usual.

“Honey, I just ordered some seafood chowder but I can’t finish it. I figured you must be hungry working so late. Let me send it over for you,”.

There was a tiny pause on the other end, just a beat, but it was long enough for me to know he was weighing his options.

“I’m not hungry. It’s late. Don’t go to the trouble,”.

I gave a small laugh, trying to sound like a caring wife.

“It’s no trouble. Just eat it so I can stop worrying. Where are you? I’ll have the delivery guy bring it straight there,”.

He answered quickly, as if the excuse was already prepared.

“We moved to a different workspace. We’re at the Pinnacle Towers, apartment 1602,”.

I froze.

Not because of the address, but because of how smoothly he recited the apartment number.

A man at a team meeting who remembers a room number like his own address? Interesting.

I kept my voice steady.

“Okay, 1602. Make sure you eat it while it’s hot. There’s a lot of good stuff in it,”.

Nathan let out a soft sigh, as if a weight had been lifted.

“Yeah, you’re the best. I love you,”.

He hung up.

I stood in the hallway for a long time, listening to the wind whistle through the door cracks.

The question in my mind was no longer whether Nathan was having an affair.

It was a colder question: What did Nathan want to do to me?

I looked at the bag of chowder.

I thought of the spoon in Betty’s hand.

If it was indeed a powdered drug, the person who taught her how to use it had to be someone with knowledge.

What would happen when it was mixed with wine?

Betty was barely literate.

She couldn’t tell the difference between a cold pill and a painkiller.

She just hated me.

She wanted me gone.

But she wasn’t smart enough to turn that hatred into a clean accident unless someone had instructed her.

I walked quickly down to the lobby.

The delivery guy was still there, leaning against his bike, scrolling on his phone.

He looked up when he saw me.

“Ma’am, is there a problem?”

I handed him the bag of chowder along with a $20 bill.

I spoke softly, like the most ordinary wife in the world.

“I need to change the delivery address. Can you please take this to the Pinnacle Towers, apartment 1602? Make sure you hand it directly to a Mr. Nathan and say his wife sent it as a late-night meal. Tell him to eat it while it’s hot,”.

The delivery guy’s eyes lit up at the sight of the money.

He grinned.

“You got it, ma’am. I’ll be there in 30 minutes,”.

His scooter sped off, its red tail light painting a thin streak in the night.