“It’s better this way,” she would say, smiling softly.
Now, those words echoed differently.
“How do you know this?” Jonathan asked, his voice quieter now—but more dangerous.
The boy shrugged slightly.
“I wash windows near your house,” he said. “People like you don’t look down much. I do.”
He hesitated for just a second.
“She uses a silver locket. Opens it. Puts a white powder into the soup.”
Jonathan’s stomach dropped.
The locket.
Rebecca never took it off. Not even at night. And whenever he had asked about it, she would brush it off with a vague answer.
A voice cut through the moment.
“Jonathan?”
He turned.
Rebecca stood a few steps away, perfectly composed—elegant, poised, untouched by the heat. But when her eyes landed on the boy, something flickered across her face.
Fear.
Just for a second.
But it was enough.
Everything after that moved fast—too fast to process.
Back at the house, Jonathan took control. His voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. Calls were made. Samples collected. Food tested.
Hours later, the results came in.
A toxin. Slow-acting. Carefully measured. Designed to mimic a degenerative illness.
Jonathan felt something inside him collapse.
When confronted, Rebecca broke.