Chapter 2 - THE VIAL DIDN’T PROVE WHAT I FEARED.
Paramedics checked me even though I hadn’t swallowed the tea.
Police secured the vial and photographed the scene.
The fizzing looked frightening, but investigators warned me not to invent conclusions from a chemical reaction.
Testing would determine what mattered.
Nora refused to explain without an attorney.
That terrified me more than shouting would have.
Lily stayed with my sister that night.
Before leaving, she asked:
“Is Mommy bad?”
I crouched beside her.
“I don’t know what happened yet.”
“But I saw her.”
“You did the right thing telling me.”
That was the only certainty I gave her.
The next morning, Nora’s attorney contacted mine.
Nora admitted putting several drops into my tea.
She claimed the substance was a prescription sleep medication.
Not hers.
“Whose?” I asked.
My attorney slid a document toward me.
The prescription had originally belonged to Nora’s late father, who died eight months earlier.
That made no sense.
Why would she still have it?
Then preliminary testing complicated everything.
The vial contained traces consistent with a sedating medication, but investigators still needed proper analysis before determining concentration or risk.
Nora’s explanation remained simple.
She thought I desperately needed sleep.
I had been working sixteen-hour days.
I had complained about insomnia.
But I had never asked her to medicate me.
Then my attorney asked:
“Has this happened before?”
I almost said no.
May you like
Instead, I remembered three recent mornings when I had awakened unusually groggy.
And suddenly I wasn’t sure.
