Chapter 4 - The Poisoned Feast
The dining room of the lake house was framed by floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the pitch-black waters of the lake. A fire roared softly in the stone fireplace, casting flickering orange light against the cedar walls.
I walked slowly down the wooden staircase, holding the handrail tightly, continuing my act of being frail and unsteady.
In the dining room, the table was set for three.
In the center stood a steaming tureen of creamy mushroom soup. Beside my porcelain bowl sat a crystal glass filled with water.
Daniel stood by the fireplace, sipping a glass of cabernet sauvignon. Monica was setting down silver spoons, her hands visibly trembling.
When Daniel saw me walking down the stairs without assistance, his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Elena?" he asked, stepping toward the stairs. "Should you be walking? You look... surprisingly steady."
"I felt a sudden burst of energy," I said, offering a serene, gentle smile as I pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down. "I didn't want to eat in bed like an invalid. I wanted to have dinner with my family."
Monica swallowed hard, stepping back toward the kitchen counter. "That's... that's great, Elena. I made your favorite mushroom bisque."
"How sweet of you, Monica," I said, looking down at the bowl of soup sitting in front of me. "You’ve always taken such good care of me. Just like the night before my... incident."
The room went completely quiet except for the crackle of the fireplace.
Daniel set his wine glass down on the mantelpiece with a soft clink. He walked over and took his seat at the opposite end of the table.
"What do you mean by that, sweetheart?" Daniel asked, his voice dripping with forced calm.
"Oh, nothing," I said, picking up my silver spoon and gently swirling the thick soup. "It's just that my memory has been coming back in little pieces over the past few hours. It's like a fog lifting."
Monica’s spoon clattered against her plate. Her face turned the color of chalk. "Your... your memory?"
"Yes," I said, leaning back in my chair, looking directly at my husband. "I remembered the argument we had in the kitchen three nights ago, Daniel. The argument about the forty-two thousand dollars moved from our joint escrow account to 'Elysium Holdings.'"
Daniel’s jaw tightened. A dark, predatory glint returned to his eyes. He didn't deny it. He didn't apologize. He realized the mask of amnesia was gone.
"You remembered," Daniel said, his voice dropping an octave, losing every trace of softness.
"I remembered everything," I corrected smoothly. "I remembered Monica bringing me tea. I remembered the bitter chemical taste. I remembered my body freezing... and I remembered waking up inside my coffin."
Monica let out a sharp gasp, clutching her throat. "Daniel! She knows! Oh God, she knows everything!"
"Shut up, Monica!" Daniel barked without taking his eyes off me.
He sat back in his chair, adjusting the cuffs of his sweater, staring at me across the long table like a wolf appraising a cornered lamb.
"If you remember waking up in the coffin, Elena," Daniel said coldly, "then you know you should be six feet under right now. You were supposed to be dead. You ruined a very clean, very profitable plan."
"A six-million-dollar plan?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "The accidental death life insurance policy? The offshore accounts in the Caymans? Did you really think you two were clever enough to pull off grand murder and fraud?"
Daniel let out a short, bitter laugh. "Clever enough? We almost succeeded! The doctor signed the death certificate! The funeral home prepped you! If you hadn't gasped like a freak in front of your mother, we would be sitting on a beach in St. Thomas right now!"
"And what about my grandmother's necklace?" I asked, turning my gaze to Monica. "Where is it, Monica? Do you have it in your pocket right now?"
Monica backed away toward the wall, her hands shaking hysterically as she pulled the gold filigree medallion from her coat pocket and dropped it onto the table. It slid across the wood, stopping right beside my bowl of soup.
"I didn't want to hurt her, Daniel!" Monica wept. "I told you we should just take the money and leave! You said we had to kill her!"
"I said shut up!" Daniel yelled, turning his head to glare at her. "She’s one weak woman in an isolated house with no phone service! What is she going to do?!"
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"I’m not going to do anything, Daniel," I said softly, picking up my grandmother's necklace and fastening it securely around my neck where it belonged.
"Because the State Police are already here."
