My Son Drank Poison To Save My Life And Trap His Evil Wife. He Knew It Was Lethal But Did It To Get Evidence. Now She’s Facing 8 Years And I’m Left With The Heartbreaking Truth.

“i don’t know but here’s what I do know” She tapped the bank statement. “clare isn’t working for Oilia she’s working against her your son hired a private investigator to look into his own wife”

The room felt too small suddenly and too hot. I thought back through the last few weeks at every interaction and every moment I’d misunderstood. I had thought Clare at my party was Oilia’s friend and her accomplice, but she wasn’t.

She’d been observing Oilia, watching her, and gathering evidence. I thought Clare photographing my house meant she was casing it and helping Oilia plan something, but she wasn’t. She’d been documenting my assets and building a case.

I thought Clare meeting Oilia at that coffee shop meant they were conspiring, but they weren’t. Clare had been interrogating her or following her or both. “i got it all backwards” I said quietly.

Denise nodded. “it looks like your son suspected something 3 months ago enough to hire professional help” “then why keep it from me”

“that’s the question” She closed the laptop. “what did Matthew find and why did he feel like he couldn’t tell his own father”

I stood up and my legs felt unsteady. “i need to talk to him” “chin Chris” Denise’s voice stopped me at the door.

“be careful if Matthew’s been investigating Oilia for 3 months there’s more going on here than we know” I sat in my car in the parking lot with the engine off and my hands gripping the steering wheel. Matthew had hired Clare 3 months ago, 3 months before my housewarming party.

He had hired her three months before he nearly died from drinking a poisoned cocktail that was meant for me. The timeline made my head spin. What had he discovered in those three months?

Had he found the debt and the search history about inheritance and incapacity? Had Clare told him what Oilia was planning? And if he knew, why hadn’t he warned me?

Was he trying to protect me, gathering evidence before making accusations he couldn’t take back? Or was he hoping he was wrong, hoping the woman he loved wasn’t capable of what the evidence suggested? I thought about the night of the party and the way Matthew had stood behind me.

I thought of the way he’d picked up that glass from the side table and the way he’d drunk it without hesitation. Had it been an accident or had he known what was in it? No, that was insane, he wouldn’t have.

But then why hire Clare 3 months earlier and why investigate Oilia in secret? My son had known something was wrong, something serious enough to spend $5,000 on a private investigator but not serious enough, or maybe too serious, to tell me. I pulled out my phone and stared at Matthew’s name in my contacts.

My thumb hovered over the call button then I put the phone down. I wasn’t ready not yet. Because if I called him now, if I asked him why he’d hired Clare, what he’d found, and why he’d kept it from me, I’d have to hear the answer.

I wasn’t sure I could handle the truth. I wasn’t sure I could handle it if it meant my son had known his wife was dangerous. I wasn’t sure if it meant he’d suspected she might try to hurt me or if he’d kept that knowledge to himself while she poisoned a drink at my party.

I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. I needed answers but for the first time in my life I was afraid of what those answers might be. I couldn’t wait any longer.

A Conspiracy of Sisters

The discovery that Matthew had hired Clare Davidson haunted me through two sleepless nights. I needed to know what my son had found and why he’d kept it from me. Two days after meeting with Denise I found myself sitting in my car outside Lincoln High School where Matthew taught English.

I was trying to figure out how to start a conversation I didn’t know how to have. The lunch bell rang at 12:30 and students poured out of the building laughing and shouting. I watched them feeling old and out of place.

Then I saw Matthew. He came through a side door carrying a canvas messenger bag heading for his car. He didn’t see me until I got out and walked toward him.

He stopped. “dad hi son” His face shifted from confusion to worry.

“what are you doing here is everything okay” “i need to talk to you just a few minutes can we grab coffee” He checked his watch and hesitated.

“okay there’s a place on the corner i have 30 minutes” The coffee shop was small and local with mismatched furniture and student art on the walls. We ordered at the counter and sat down at a table near the window.

Matthew set his bag on the floor and wrapped his hands around his cup. “what’s going on you look worried” I didn’t know how to start so I just said it.

“matthew I need to ask you something have you noticed anything unusual about Oilia lately” His face went blank then defensive. “what do you mean”

“financial pressure changes in behavior anything that seems off” “we’re fine Dad” His voice was careful and guarded.

“why are you asking” “i’m just concerned after what happened at the party the doctor said it was some kind of drug interaction” he said it too quickly “a freak accident”

I leaned forward. “was it Matthew” He went still and stared at his coffee as the silence stretched too long.

“what else would it be” he said finally. I wanted to ask him about Clare and about the $5,000 payment.

I wanted to ask why he’d hired a private investigator 3 months before my party but something in his eyes stopped me. He knew something as I could see it. I saw it in the way he wouldn’t meet my gaze, the way his jaw was set, and the way his hands gripped that coffee cup.

It was like he was holding on to something he didn’t want to let go of. But he wasn’t ready to talk or didn’t want to or was protecting something he couldn’t say out loud. I tried a different approach about that night at the party.

“Do you remember anything which glass did you drink from?” Another long pause followed as Matthew stared down at his coffee like he could find answers in it. “no” he said quietly.

“i’ve tried to remember it’s just blank i felt dizzy then I woke up in the hospital” “you picked up a glass from the side table” I said “Do you remember why?”

He looked up and something flashed in his eyes: recognition or fear, I couldn’t tell. “does it matter which glass I drank from” “it might”