Chapter 2After He Poisoned My Baby, I Unleashed Hell

“Are you out of your mind, Clara?” Jessica shrieked, stepping in front of her son protectively. “Why are you yelling at my boy?”

She glared at me, her face flushed with anger. My refusal to lend them money had already lit her fuse, and now she was exploding.

“So you won’t lend us the money, fine,” she spat. “We’ll pay you back the six thousand as soon as we can. But you have no right to take it out on my son.”

I ignored her, my entire body trembling as I asked again, my voice barely a whisper, “Who brought the poison in here?”

This time, my oldest niece, the daughter of Michael’s eldest brother, pointed a shaky finger at Ethan.

“Cousin Ethan did.”

“That’s right. I did.”

Ethan nodded, his expression chillingly calm, and admitted it without a trace of remorse.

While the other children were crying or frozen in fear, he stepped forward and delivered a statement that shattered the world.

“She’s vomiting because I fed her the pesticide.”

The confession hung in the air, sucking the breath from the room. Everyone stared at him in stunned disbelief.

Jessica was the first to react. Her face went white, and she lunged forward, clapping a hand over his mouth. “You brat! Don’t you dare say things like that!”

Ethan calmly pulled her hand away and shrugged, a look of complete indifference on his face. “It’s true, Mom. I fed it to her. If you don’t believe me, ask them.” He gestured to the other children. “They all watched me do it.”

The other kids nodded silently.

Jessica looked as if the sky had just fallen on her head.

Feeding poison to a one-month-old baby. The outcome was horrifyingly clear. Even if, by some miracle, she survived, she would be severely damaged for life.

Tom’s mind was already racing. He grabbed his son’s arm.

“Michael, Clara, I just remembered I left the stove on at home,” he said, his voice tight with panic. “We can’t wait for the ambulance with you. We have to go.”

With that, he tried to drag his wife and son out of the room.

A primal scream tore from my throat. I threw myself at the door, blocking their escape.

“What do you think you’re doing, Clara?” Tom demanded, his brows knitting together.

“You’re not leaving!” I shrieked.

“Are you crazy? You can’t legally hold us here!”

“Michael, call the police!” I screamed at my husband. “Before this is sorted out, no one is leaving this house!”

“Get out of my way, you psycho!” Tom snarled. The mention of the police had drained the color from his face. He shoved me aside with a violent push. I was too weak to stop him.

I turned to my husband, my voice pleading. “Michael, help me! Stop them!”

But when he moved, it wasn’t to help me.

It was to pull me away from the door.

“Clara, stop making a scene,” he said, his voice cold and distant. “Let them go.”