My Husband Fed My Mother Poison to Protect His Pregnant Ex

It was from the private investigator I'd been contacting in secret. My hands shook as I typed my reply：

“I don't care what it takes. Get me solid proof.”

The moment the message went through, something hardened behind my eyes.

Back then, after the rumors broke, my father hadn't even bothered to verify them before having his lawyers draft a statement severing all ties.

“The Vance name cannot be dragged through this kind of scandal!”

“The stock is already dropping. The board is breathing down my neck. You and your mother are moving out today.”

My mother had knelt on the floor, begging him to believe her, begging him at least not to throw me out.

What she got for her pleading was a pair of security guards escorting us through the front door. We didn't even have time to pack.

Over twenty years of marriage, severed in a single afternoon. After that, my mother lost her mind.

If I could find the evidence, I could clear her name. I would no longer be some illegitimate child born of an affair that never happened.

And maybe, just maybe, her condition would improve.

But without a replacement for that miracle drug, I would never be free of Ferdinand Sanchez.

I was still turning the problem over when my phone buzzed again.

Teresa Swanson. My college friend who worked at the hospital.

I picked up, but before I could even say hello, her voice came through fast and breathless：

“Renee, that medication you showed me, you need to stop giving it to her right now!”

I froze：“What?”

“That imported drug your mom's been taking. I had my advisor send it to a specialist overseas for analysis.”

Teresa was talking so fast the dread in my chest tightened with every word.

“It's not a psychiatric medication at all. If anything, it could be making her worse.”

Teresa was still explaining the side effects, but I'd already stopped listening.

Cold shot straight to the top of my skull, and every drop of blood in my body felt like it had turned to ice.

I'd thought Ferdinand had only covered up Deborah's crimes.

It never crossed my mind that he'd been feeding my mother poison, day after day, pill after pill.

And all that time he'd ask in that gentle voice of his：

“How's Mom doing? Any improvement lately?”

I'd been grateful to him for it. Six whole months of gratitude.

I wanted to rip that mask off his face right then and there, to scream at him, to demand why he could be this cruel.

But this wasn't the time to lose control. Every second I wasted was another second my mother was in danger.

I grabbed my keys and tore out of the house, driving to the hospital like my life depended on it.

The moment I shoved open the ward door, the caregiver was standing at my mother's bedside, a cup of water in one hand and that blue pill in the other, ready to give her the dose.

“Stop!”

I lunged forward and knocked the cup out of her hand.

She flinched, startled, then her expression soured：

“Ms. Vance, what are you doing?”

“This is the miracle drug Mr. Sanchez specifically ordered. She has to take it on schedule every day. What if you set back her treatment?”

“From now on, nobody gives my mother any medication without my permission. If something goes wrong, that's on me.”

I stared at those pills, my voice trembling.

The caregiver muttered something under her breath, clearly annoyed, and left the room.

I turned to my mother, who had shrunk against the headboard, pressed into the corner of the bed.

The terror in her eyes hit me like a thousand needles driven straight through my heart.

I fought back the tears and pulled her into my arms.

“Mom, it's okay. Don't be scared. No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise.”

She slowly stopped trembling, the panic fading from her face. But then voices drifted in from outside the door, low and gossipy.

“Poor thing, the woman in that room. I heard she used to be married into one of those old-money families. How'd she end up like this?”

A stranger's voice, laced with curiosity and pity.

Another voice cut in right after, sharp and shrill.

“Poor? Please. She's no saint. Apparently she hid an affair for over twenty years, and when the truth came out she got kicked to the curb. Couldn't handle the shame, so she snapped. If you ask me, she had it coming.”