The sound of a knife slicing through the hard granite cutting board was repetitive and dry, like the heartbeat of someone clinically dead. In a kitchen draped in pure gold, I—the real owner of this house—was busy preparing “Seared Foie Gras with Red Wine Sauce” for my wife and her lover.
“Honey, make sure you have a good time, huh?” I don’t eat anything weird, bad for the skin,” Vy’s innocent voice echoed from the sofa. She was wearing the silk robe that Nam had bought as a gift for our 10th anniversary, and her long legs rested on the back of the chair I had lovingly chosen.
Nam sat next to him, stroking Vy’s hair. He looked at me with no emotion, just a cold command: “Hurry up. Vy was hungry. After you, eat in the storage room under the stairs, don’t wander around here, or we’ll lose our appetite.”
Three months ago, Nam openly brought Vy along. She didn’t want to get a divorce because she didn’t want to divide the assets. Instead, he used his power and economic manipulation to turn me into a “high-class helper.” I was kicked out of the master’s bedroom—the place full of memories—to make way for their nightly laughs.
I was silent. I endured. I cook for them every day. But they don’t know that the silence of a woman trapped in a corner is the silence of a time bomb.
It’s 7 p.m. Candles were lit at the dinner table. Nam and Vy sat face to face, happy as if they were a real couple. I stood in the shadow of the hallway, watching them eat an appetizer.
“It’s a good wine right now, isn’t it?” Vy nodded at Nam, sipping a sip of bright red wine.
Nam smiled with pleasure: “Have fun, my love. From tomorrow onwards, this house will be ours. I’ve prepared the deed of transfer, just waiting for ‘my husband’ to sign it tonight.”
I emerged from the shadows, holding the silver tray containing the main course. My face was devoid of emotion, but my lips were slightly smiling. If Nam was going to be smart, he would notice that that smile was exactly the smile of death.
“This is the main course. “A special Foie Gras,” I whispered.
The Horrible Truth
They began to eat. One bite, second bite. Vy suddenly let go of the fork, grabbed her throat, and her face changed color: “Nam… Why is it like… Am I having trouble breathing? My body is warm…”
Nam tried to stand up to help him but fell to his knees himself. Five minutes later, they were…
Nam tried to stand up to help Vy but fell to her knees herself. Five minutes later, they were… Completely stopped moving, still sitting in a luxurious chair. The only noise in the kitchen was the loud and cheerful sound of a song by Kuh Ledesma coming from the Bluetooth speaker on the other corner.
I walked over, Eliza (the wife’s real name), and slowly pulled Nam’s chair back. I saw fragments of foie gras scattered on the floor.
“Is it that fast?” I whispered, I didn’t understand. “It should take a little longer to take effect.”
I attached the camera to my lapel and faced the two bodies. This is my proof. Not just proof of their betrayal and oppression, but proof of my last defense.
I turned my face to Nam, who was now silent and inconsequential.
“Do you remember, Nam?” My voice was almost whispered but sharp. “You told me ‘Don’t wander around here, we might lose our appetite’. Now, take a look at yourself. You will never be able to eat again.”
I kissed him on the forehead—one last goodbye.
Suddenly, a familiar sound echoed from Vy’s pocket. Ring. Ring.
I picked up his phone. A name flashes across the screen: “Brother, My Life Coach.”
Kuya? Life Coach?
I answered the call and put it on the speaker.
“Hey, Steel! “How’s the special dinner?” The voice was deep and familiar, but I couldn’t determine. “I hope Nam enjoys the food.”
“They’re dead,” I said calmly.
The other line paused. “Eliza? “We haven’t spoken in a long time, Auntie.”
I was surprised. “T-Aunt? Who are you?”
“My name is Leo, Auntie. “Your son.”
Vy’s phone fell to the floor, but I could still hear Leo’s voice coming from the speaker.
“I had no intention of killing Nam and Vy, Auntie! My plan was only mild poison, enough to make them seriously ill and hospitalized, to delay you signing the papers. That was Vy’s deal with me, for her to pretend to be Nam’s mistress and find loopholes so you wouldn’t break up and keep the house with you! Why did you add a deadly dose?!”
The words hit me like bullets. Vy, my hated lover, is a secret agent of my own son, Leo, who is studying abroad! He went out of his way to protect the property he knew I deserved!
“Son…” My throat is tight.
“Auntie, you’re using Cyanide!” shouted Leo. “You should just ask me for ‘Diarrhea-inducing‘ poison! I thought that humiliation was enough for Nam. Why did you kill them?”
I got a hold of my head. My hand was shaking.
“I’m using Belladonna and Nightshade, Leo, not Cyanide!” My defense. “Poisons that cause paralysis and slow cardiac shutdown—like a heart attack! I used them for my alibi! Foie gras is packed with fat to absorb toxins. It shouldn’t be this fast!”
I looked at the two bodies. Something is wrong.
I picked up the phone and said, “Something’s wrong!” The effect seems to be fast-acting!”
From behind, a voice whispered: “Because Vy didn’t use Belladonna, Auntie.”
I turned around. A man was standing in the shadow of the dining room, near the trash can. This is… Sister Sol, our cook who has been retired for a long time.
“M-Sister?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”
He came out, holding a small black vial.
“You brought me here to help you with the poison, didn’t you, Eliza?” Sally smiled, a smile that didn’t have any warmth. “But you know, it was Vy who came to me then, didn’t you?”
“When did you leave this house in the first place, Eliza?” Sally continued, “That’s because of Nam. I chose Nam over you. He is my love! So when you came back and claimed everything, I waited for an opportunity. When Leo left and you relied on poison, I took Cyanide from the sewer and put it in your foie gras.”
He took a deep breath, showing a big toothless smile.
“Do you think Tyler is your real enemy?” Your real enemy is the woman who has been cooking for your family for 20 years.”
Suddenly, I heard the faint sound of sirens approaching. Leo must have called the police.
Sister Sol looked at me, her eyes like fire. “You don’t need Vy’s clever story. That is for the kids. All you need is a simple story: Two traitors have been poisoned at the dinner table, and the wife is the prime suspect!”
“No!” I screamed.
The End (The End)
Manang Sol ran out of the house, and the sirens were now sounding outside the gate. The door was suddenly opened by the police.
Manang Sol couldn’t see me. Through the flash of the police lights, a shadow appeared that hit the old woman. The Steel!
He’s not dead yet!
Vy grabbed hold of Sister Sol’s vial, and pushed her out of the window.
“Eliza!” cried Vy, faintly. “The poison I gave you was just Vitamin C and Caffeine! To make Nam’s heart beat faster and it turns into a heart attack! But I’ve seen the Sol Man put a real poison on it! I moved Nam’s and Vy’s foie gras to Manang Sol’s plate earlier!”
I turned back to the table. Next to Manang Sol is a plate with the remains of foie gras.
I looked at the two bodies in the chair. They’re waking up!
“P-Like… I have a headache…” Nam said, shaking his head.
“I’ve got a lot of pain in my stomach, Nam!” Vy groaned.
“They don’t have any poison!” Vy shouted. “They’re just getting sick!”
Nam wakes up to find the police, Manang Sol lying outside, and Vy bleeding.
“What’s going on here?!” yelled Nam.
Ang Aral (The Lesson)
The story ends with the trial of Manang Sol and the police who are investigating Nam for economic abuse. Nam was found guilty and lost everything. Vy came out as the hero, Leo’s secret agent, and gave me all the evidence against Nam.
Eliza (me) and Vy became friends. She runs a non-profit organization that helps women who are victims of abuse. Leo returned and became manager of the organization’s legal department.
The lesson: You don’t need poison to win the game. Sometimes, the best weapon is acting wisely, avoidance, and the love of your child (and his “lover”) who is willing to sacrifice for you. Happiness is not to be found in revenge, but in friendship and unity (and forgiveness of the lover who pretended).