The Billionaire's Chef Poisoned My Parents—Now It's His Turn

When Dahlia saw me and my parents staring at the food with satisfied faces, she rolled her eyes and snorted, then grabbed the lunch box and headed for the door.

My parents couldn't stand her smug, arrogant attitude and immediately stopped her.

"You see your employers and don't even greet them? Rolling your eyes at us—what's that supposed to mean?"

"Get over here and serve us while we eat, or I'll have you fired."

Dahlia rolled her eyes even harder.

"Drop the old-money aristocrat act. I'm not your maid or your nanny."

"When I signed my contract with Mr. Hansen, it was crystal clear: I cook for him alone. I serve him alone. I don't take orders from anyone else."

"If you have a problem with that, take it up with him. Stop putting on a show for me."

My parents were livid.

They were about to call Marcus right then, but I stopped them.

"Mom, Dad, you know Marcus has anorexia. Dahlia's the only one whose food he can eat, so she's a bit spoiled. Look, she's holding his lunch box—she's rushing to deliver his meal. Don't make things difficult. I'm here. I'll take care of you."

Dahlia muttered, "At least someone knows how to behave," and left with the food container.

My parents were still fuming, but she was already gone. Under my coaxing, they finally sat down to eat.

To keep their spirits up, I ran around nonstop—picking out dishes for them, ladling soup, bringing tea, pouring water...

It wasn't long before both of them, faces darkening, collapsed from their chairs onto the floor.

I called out softly and rushed forward to check their pulses.

They were still breathing. Barely. I scrambled to grab my phone and call an ambulance.

Just like in my previous life.

No matter how I searched, I couldn't find the phone I'd left on the coffee table. I didn't need to think twice—Dahlia had hidden it. Without panicking, I rushed toward the door, planning to find the neighborhood security or a neighbor who could call for help.

But the moment I reached the yard, Marcus and Dahlia blocked my path.

It was like seeing a lifeline.

"Marcus, quick—call an ambulance. Mom and Dad collapsed right after eating. Their pulses are barely there. If we wait any longer, it'll be too late."

"And call the police. They only got like this after eating Dahlia's food. She must have poisoned it. She's trying to kill us!"

Dahlia put on a stricken expression. "Impossible."

She ran into the dining room to inspect the leftovers, then turned back to Marcus with a wounded look.

"I know what happened. I was preparing raw aconite to make medicinal liquor for you."

"But when I was cooking dinner for Mrs. Hansen, I accidentally mistook it for pepper and added it in. Her parents must have eaten it and gotten poisoned."

"But I only used a tiny bit. Even if they really are poisoned, it won't be serious. So don't go saying things like 'it'll be too late.' You could send them to the hospital tomorrow and they'd still be fine."

"You're just using this to get rid of me, aren't you?"

I stared at Marcus, my expression shattered, defenseless.

"I'm not."

"I didn't. Dahlia did this on purpose. Please, just call an ambulance. Mom and Dad—"

But before I could finish, Marcus cut me off.

"Enough."

"Dahlia didn't do it on purpose. Mild poisoning won't kill anyone. Why are you putting on an act?"

"I'll call an ambulance. But first, you're signing this liability waiver. I'm not saving your parents just to have you turn around and accuse Dahlia of attempted murder."