Chapter 2 - The Secret in the Pantry
The air in the bedroom grew dead silent, save for the mechanical rhythm of the heart monitor.
Arthur turned sharply toward the housekeeper. Mrs. Gable had gone entirely pale, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edges of the porcelain plate.
“What did you say?” Arthur demanded, his voice dropping into the low, dangerous register he reserved for corrupt subcontractors and corporate rivals.
“Nothing, Mr. Bennett!” Mrs. Gable stammered, stepping back toward the door. “I—I just thought the boy needed something sweet. It’s been a hard week—”
“Put the plate down, Mrs. Gable,” Arthur commanded.
She obeyed with shaking hands, setting it on the bedside table right beside the rows of prescription bottles and saline drips.
Matthew reached out, his frail fingers trembling as he touched the edge of the plate. He didn't look at his father; instead, his eyes remained fixed on the dark red layers of the cake, coated in rich cream cheese frosting.
“She didn't die of an aneurysm, Dad,” Matthew said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
Arthur felt a cold sweat break out across his spine. “Don't talk nonsense. The medical examiner’s report from ten years ago was clear. Acute cerebral hemorrhage. Natural causes.”
“Because you signed the release without reading the toxicology addendum,” Matthew replied, lifting his gaze to meet his father’s. “You were too busy acquiring the Austin riverfront land. Dr. Voss wasn't just my physician for the last three years, Dad. He was Mom’s cardiologist too.”
Arthur’s breath hitched. “Voss? No. Voss came highly recommended by the board after Eleanor passed. He wasn't even her primary doctor back then—he was just an attending physician at North River.”
“He was her attending physician when she collapsed at the dinner table,” Matthew corrected him softly. He pointed a thin finger at the slice of red velvet cake. “And every time Mom baked this cake, she would get dizzy two hours later. She thought it was exhaustion. She told me to keep a secret—she said Dr. Voss had given her special vitamin supplements to help with her fatigue from managing your company’s charity events.”
Mrs. Gable let out a sharp gasp, covering her mouth with her hand.
Arthur spun around to face her. “What do you know about this? Tell me right now or I swear to God you will never work another day in this state.”
The housekeeper burst into tears, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I—I found the extra bottles in the pantry back then! After Mrs. Bennett passed away, Dr. Voss came to the house. He told me they were experimental heart tonics to help her constitution. He told me to throw away the leftovers so the grieving family wouldn't be ‘disturbed.’ But I kept one label... I kept it because it felt wrong.”
She rushed out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway as she hurried toward the staff quarters.
Arthur stood frozen. A lifetime of business instincts—honed by ruthless competition, corporate espionage, and high-stakes negotiations—slapped into place, reassembling the puzzle of his wife’s death with terrifying clarity.
Eleanor hadn't died of a random natural disaster.
She had been murdered.
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And the man who had supposedly saved her memory, the brilliant cardiologist who was now managing Matthew’s treatment—Dr. Julian Voss—had been orchestrating it all along.
“Dad,” Matthew whispered, a tear finally cutting a clean path down his pale cheek. “He’s not treating me. He’s doing the exact same thing to me that he did to Mom. Just... slower. So no one would ever suspect the Bennett family curse.”
