Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2 — The Poison in the Cup
Three days passed in a blur of painkillers and police interviews.
My body was slowly knitting itself back together, but my mind was entirely shattered.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the empty space in my womb.
The false hope.
The way my body had betrayed me, mimicking every symptom of a life that was never there.
Ethan rarely left my side.
He slept in the uncomfortable plastic chair, refusing to go back to the Whitmore mansion.
He had already instructed his lawyers to freeze every single family asset.
On the fourth morning, Dr. Evans walked into my room.
He didn’t have his usual polite, clinical smile.
He carried a thick red folder. His brow was deeply furrowed.
“Mrs. Whitmore, Mr. Whitmore,” he greeted us, closing the door firmly behind him.
“Is something wrong with her scans?” Ethan asked immediately, standing up.
Dr. Evans shook his head.
“No. Her physical recovery from the fall is remarkable.”
“But we received the results from the comprehensive toxicology screen we ran when she was admitted.”
He opened the red folder.
“Pseudocyesis—a false pregnancy—is incredibly rare.”
“It’s usually triggered by intense psychological trauma or a desperate desire to conceive.”
“But your bloodwork showed an anomaly.”
I shifted weakly against the pillows. “What kind of anomaly?”
Dr. Evans looked me directly in the eye.
“We found dangerously high levels of a synthetic hormone compound.”
“A black-market fertility drug, highly concentrated.”
“It forces the body to simulate pregnancy. Bloating, morning sickness, stopped cycles. Everything.”
The room went dead silent.
The only sound was the steady hum of the oxygen machine.
Ethan stared at the doctor, completely paralyzed.
“Are you saying…” my voice trembled so badly I could barely form the words.
“Are you saying I didn't just imagine this?”
“I’m saying someone deliberately induced it,” Dr. Evans said gravely.
“Someone has been poisoning you, Mrs. Whitmore.”
“For weeks. Possibly months.”
A sudden, sharp memory cut through the fog in my brain.
The tea.
Every morning, for the last three months.
Vivian had insisted on bringing me a special herbal tea.
She told me it was an old family recipe.
She said it was to help me relax, to help me prepare for motherhood.
She would stand in the kitchen, watching me with those cold, hawkish eyes until I drank every last drop.
“The tea,” I whispered.
Ethan turned to me. “What?”
“Your mother’s tea,” I said, the tears finally spilling over my cheeks.
“She brought it to me every single morning.”
Ethan’s face went from pale to a dark, dangerous shade of red.
The pieces snapped together with horrifying clarity.
Vivian didn’t just push me off the roof in a panic.
She had orchestrated the entire humiliation.
She wanted me to announce the pregnancy.
She wanted to drag me to a doctor afterward, expose me as a liar or a lunatic, and force Ethan to divorce me.
She wanted me out of the family, discredited and ruined, so she could keep stealing his money.
But on the rooftop, when I stood up with that bright, happy smile…
She realized a divorce might take too long.
She realized the audit might happen anyway.
So she chose murder instead.
Ethan turned to the door, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were stark white.
“Where are you going?” I panicked, trying to sit up.
“To the house,” Ethan snarled, his voice vibrating with a rage I had never heard before.
“I’m going to tear her private study down to the studs.”
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“I’m going to find the poison.”
“And then I’m going to make sure she never sees the sun again.”
