Chapter 7: The Year Before Everything Changed
I stared at the message until the words stopped looking like words.
*If you want to know who poisoned Emma, ask your husband what happened three years ago.*
Three years ago.
A specific year.
A specific memory.
Someone wanted me to look backward.
I turned slowly toward Mark.
“What happened three years ago?””
His face changed.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Fear.
The kind of fear that comes when someone finally hears the question they’ve been trying to avoid.
“Lily…”
“No.””
My voice was quiet.
“Don’t say my name like that.””
He swallowed.
“I can explain.””
“Everyone says that right before they tell me something they should have told me years ago.””
The black phone sat on the kitchen counter between us.
A stranger’s message.
A hidden device.
Another secret inside my own home.
“How long have you known about this phone?”” I asked.
“I didn’t.””
“Then why did you look scared?””
He looked away.
That was the answer.
I stepped closer.
“What happened three years ago?””
Mark ran a hand through his hair.
“I made a mistake.””
I laughed softly.
“A mistake?””
He looked at me.
“Yes.””
“My daughter was poisoned.””
“I know.””
“My sister lied to me.””
“I know.””
“Our money is missing.””
“I know.””
“And you still call this a mistake?””
His shoulders dropped.
“No.””
“Then what do you call it?””
He sat down at the kitchen table.
For the first time in years, he looked like a stranger.
“Three years ago, I lost money.””
I stared at him.
“Gambling?””
“Yes.””
“How much?””
“Not enough to matter at first.””
“At first?””
He closed his eyes.
“I thought I could win it back.””
That sentence.
That one sentence.
It explained everything.
The missing money.
The lies.
The desperation.
“You borrowed from someone.””
“Yes.””
“Rachel?””
“Yes.””
I shook my head.
“And when Rachel couldn’t give you enough?””
His silence answered.
“You found other people.””
“Yes.””
“People like Malcolm?””
Mark looked at me.
“Yes.””
I felt sick.
“Then why did someone send me that message?””
“I don’t know.””
“You do.””
“No, Lily.””
His voice cracked.
“I swear I don’t.””
I wanted to believe him.
But belief was becoming a luxury I couldn’t afford.
“Tell me what happened three years ago.””
Mark stared at the floor.
“Rachel introduced me to someone.””
“Who?””
“I don’t know his real name.””
My heart tightened.
“What?””
“He used different names.””
“What did he do?””
Mark hesitated.
Then:
“He moved products.””
I felt cold.
“The sedative?””
He nodded.
“I didn’t sell anything at first.””
“But you did eventually.””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
His eyes filled with shame.
“Because I was drowning.””
I stepped back.
“You don’t get to say that.””
“I know.””
“No, you don’t.””
My voice broke.
“Because while you were drowning, you dragged Emma and me underwater with you.””
Mark looked like he wanted to answer.
But he couldn’t.
My phone rang.
Detective Harris.
I answered immediately.
“Detective?””
“Mrs. Carter, where is your husband?””
I looked at Mark.
“Why?””
“We need to locate him.””
“Why?””
A pause.
Then:
“We found another piece of evidence.””
My stomach tightened.
“What evidence?””
“The hidden phone.””
I looked at the device on the counter.
“How do you know about that?””
“Because we’ve been tracking activity connected to it.””
I froze.
“What activity?””
“The phone was used to communicate with someone involved in the sale of stolen medical substances.””
My eyes moved to Mark.
“Who?””
Detective Harris lowered his voice.
“Rachel Carter.””
I closed my eyes.
“No.””
“Mrs. Carter, listen to me.””
“No. Rachel didn’t—”
“We found messages.””
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What messages?””
“Between Rachel and your husband.””
Mark stood up.
“What did he say?””
I ignored him.
“Detective, what kind of messages?””
Another pause.
Then:
“Messages about Emma’s birthday.””
The room went silent.
I couldn’t hear anything except my own heartbeat.
“What did they say?””
Detective Harris spoke carefully.
“Mrs. Carter…”
“What did they say?””
His answer came quietly.
“Rachel asked Mark if the child would be alone when she drank the lemonade.””
I felt the world tilt.
I looked at Mark.
He looked horrified.
Not surprised.
Horrified.
“Lily,” he whispered.
But I couldn’t hear him.
Because the question I had been avoiding finally appeared.
Not who had the opportunity.
May you like
Not who had the motive.
But who had planned it.
