My Nephew Tried To Poison Me At My Late Wife’s Memorial To Steal My $3m Estate. I Switched The Glasses And Watched His Wife Drink It Instead. Was I Wrong To Let Her?

The Aftermath

15 minutes later, Christine started feeling unwell. I was talking to Martha about Eleanor’s Rose Garden when I heard Christine’s voice, strained and urgent.

“Derek, I don’t feel good.”

I turned. Christine was pale, one hand on her stomach, the other gripping the back of a chair. Derek was at her side immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

“I feel dizzy and my stomach…”

She didn’t finish. She made it three steps toward the bathroom before she collapsed. The room erupted in chaos. People shouted. Someone called 911. Derek was on the floor with Christine, who was conscious but clearly in distress. She was sweating. Her pupils were dilated and she was breathing rapidly.

“Did she eat something?” Martha asked.

“I don’t know.” Derek’s voice was panicked. Real panic, not fake. He hadn’t known what Christine had done.

The ambulance arrived 12 minutes later. Paramedics loaded Christine onto a stretcher. Derek went with them, and the party dissolved as guests hurried out, worried and confused.

After everyone left, I sat on my deck and waited. Frank arrived an hour later.

“The cameras caught everything,” he said. “Christine at the sideboard, the hand movement, clear as day.”

“She poisoned my champagne,” I said quietly. “And she drank it herself.”

“Poetic justice,” Frank said. “The hospital will test her blood. Whatever she used, they’ll find it. And once they do, the police will want to talk to her.”

“What about Derek?”

“The cameras didn’t catch him doing anything, but they caught plenty of his conversations with Christine, and his phone records will show the Prescott development contacts. He might not have known about the poison, but he knew about the plan to get you to sell.”

I nodded slowly. “I want to go to the hospital.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s still my nephew, and I need to know if he knew.”

Confronting the Truth

Derek was in the ER waiting room when I arrived. He looked up, surprised.

“Uncle Walt, what are you doing here?”

“I came to check on Christine. How is she?”

“They’re running tests. They think it might be food poisoning, but…” he trailed off, his face pale. “They’re asking strange questions about whether she took any medication, whether she might have ingested something toxic.”

I sat down next to him. “Derek, I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth.”

“Okay.”

“Did you know Christine was planning to poison me tonight?”

The blood drained from his face. “What? Uncle Walt, I… I…”

“I saw her put something in my champagne. I switched our glasses. She drank what was meant for me.”

Derek stood up abruptly. “That’s insane. Christine would never…”

“Sit down, Derek.”

Something in my voice made him obey. I pulled out my phone and played him a video. Christine at the sideboard, the subtle hand movement, the pills dropping into the glass. Derek watched in silence. When it ended, he put his head in his hands.

“Oh God.”

“Did you know?”

“No.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I swear to God, Uncle Walt. I didn’t know about that. I knew…”

He stopped.

“You knew what?”

“I knew she wanted you to sell the property. We’re in debt. Bad debt, and we thought if we could convince you to sell, you’d share some of the money with family.”

And he looked at me, tears in his eyes. “But poison, murder? I never wanted that. You have to believe me.”

“I want to believe you, Derek. But you’ve been lying to me for months, telling people my health was failing, talking to developers behind my back.”

“I was desperate. The loans, the pressure from Christine’s brother… I just thought if I could get you to see that the property was too much for you…”

He broke down then, sobbing. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I never wanted you hurt. Never.”

A doctor emerged from the ER. “Family of Christine Hayes?”

Derek stood. “That’s me. I’m her husband.”

“We need to speak with you privately, and we’ve called the police.”

Derek’s face crumpled. He looked at me one last time. “I’m sorry, Uncle Walt, for all of it.”

Then he followed the doctor through the doors, and I never saw him as a free man again.