I stood at the counter, phone buzzing with Collins’s message: Stay calm. We’re live on the feed.
The cameras were hidden. The mic tested. The food samples ready to be collected afterward.
Everything was in motion.
Vanessa set the bag down and began unpacking ingredients—vegetables, broth, herbs—but tucked carefully at the bottom was her signature move.
The small glass vial she thought no one else had seen.
My stomach turned just looking at it.
She hummed while chopping carrots, acting like a normal sister making dinner for family. The performance was good. I’ll give her that.
But I’d seen the footage, the recordings, the quiet satisfaction when she thought no one was watching.
Ethan wandered in, grabbing a handful of crackers. “Aunt Vanessa, are you really cooking soup? Last time you made it, it tasted funny.”
Her hand froze for just a second before she forced a laugh. “That’s because your taste buds are too picky, champ. This time it’ll be perfect.”
I caught his eye and shook my head slightly. He frowned, confused, but set the crackers down without a word.
Smart kid.
Dinner was served an hour later. Vanessa ladled the soup into three bowls, placing Ethan’s in front of him first. As always, she added a piece of bread to the side and touched his shoulder gently, smiling like the picture of an attentive aunt.
My throat tightened. Collins’s words replayed in my head: She’ll escalate. Watch for it.
I waited until Ethan picked up his spoon. Then I casually reached for the bowl. “Mind if I try the first bite? Just to make sure your aunt hasn’t burned it.”
Vanessa chuckled, but her eyes darted quickly toward me—then the bowl—then back.
“Of course,” she said. “Go ahead.”
I took a sip, forcing myself not to gag. The bitterness wasn’t subtle anymore.
I set the spoon down, smiling thinly. “Not bad.”
Ethan shrugged and pretended to keep eating, just a few half-hearted bites before pushing his bowl away.
“I’m full, Mom. I had snacks earlier.”
Vanessa’s smile flickered. “Already? But I made it special for you.”
“He’ll eat more later,” I said firmly, collecting his bowl and setting it in the sink.
My hands shook slightly, but I masked it by running water over the dishes. Behind me, I could feel Vanessa’s stare boring into my back.
Later that night, Ethan pulled me aside in his room.
“Mom,” he whispered, “why don’t you trust Aunt Vanessa’s food? You never finish it, and you don’t let me eat it.”
I knelt beside him. “Because sometimes people don’t have our best interests at heart. You don’t need to worry about the details right now. Just promise me you won’t eat anything she gives you unless I say so.”
His eyes were wide, but he nodded. “Okay, Mom. I trust you.”
