At dinner, my daughter slipped a crumpled note onto the table. Pretend youre ill and get out of here, it read.
When I unfolded the scribbled scrap, I never imagined those five words, written in my daughters familiar hand, would change everything: Pretend youre ill and leave. I stared at her, baffled, and she shook her head desperately, eyes pleading that I believe her. Only later did I understand why.
The morning had begun like any other at our house on the outskirts of London. I had been married to Edward for just over two years, a successful entrepreneur I met after my divorce. To outsiders we seemed flawless: a comfortable home, money in the bank, and my daughter, Poppy, finally enjoying the stability she needed. Poppy was a quiet, observant fourteenyearold, absorbing everything like a sponge. At first her relationship with Edward was strainedtypical for a teenager with a stepfatherbut over time they seemed to find a balance, or so I thought.
That Saturday morning Edward invited his business partners over for a brunch at our place. It was a crucial meeting about expanding the company, and Edward was keen to make a good impression. I spent the whole week perfecting the menu and every tiny detail of the decor.
I was finishing a salad in the kitchen when Poppy appeared, her face pale, her eyes holding a tension I couldnt name. Fear.
Mum, she whispered, edging past me as if trying to be invisible, I need to show you something in my room.
Edward walked in at that moment, adjusting his tie. He was always immaculately dressed, even for informal gatherings at home. What are you two whispering about? he asked, smiling without his eyes.
Nothing important, I replied automatically. Poppy just needs help with some schoolwork.
Make it quick, he said, glancing at his watch. The guests arrive in half an hour and I need you with me at the door.
I nodded and followed my daughter down the hallway. As soon as we entered her bedroom, she slammed the door shut, almost too hard. Whats wrong, love? Youre scaring me, I said.
Poppy didnt answer. Instead she handed me a small piece of paper from her desk, eyes darting toward the door. I unfolded it and read the hurried words: Pretend youre ill and leave. Now.
Poppy, what kind of joke is this? I asked, confused and a little annoyed. We dont have time for games with guests arriving.
Its not a joke, she whispered. Please, Mum, trust me. You have to get out of this house right now. Make up anything. Say you feel sick, but go.
The desperation in her eyes froze me. In all my years as a mother I had never seen my daughter so serious, so frightened. Poppy, youre alarming me. Whats happening?
She glanced toward the door as if someone might be listening. I cant explain now. I promise Ill tell you everything later. But you must trust me. Please.
Before I could protest, footsteps echoed in the hallway. The door knob turned and Edward appeared, his face clearly irritated. Whats taking you so long? The first guest just arrived.
I looked at my daughter, whose pleading gaze begged me to believe her. On impulse, I decided to trust her. Im sorry, Edward, I said, pressing a hand to my forehead. I suddenly feel lightheaded. I think its a migraine.
Edward frowned, squinting. Now, Helen? You were fine five minutes ago.
I know. It just hit me, I said, trying to look genuinely ill. You can start without me. Ill take a pill and lie down.
A tense moment passed before the doorbell rang, and Edward seemed to decide that attending to the guests was more important. Fine, but try to join us as soon as you can, he said, leaving the room.
Once we were alone, Poppy grabbed my hands. Dont go to bed. Were leaving now. Say you need to go to the pharmacy for something stronger. Ill go with you.
This is absurd. I cant abandon our guests, I protested.
Mum, her voice trembled, please. This isnt a game. Its about your life.
Her fear was raw, and I felt a chill run down my spine. What could frighten my daughter so much? What did she know that I didnt? I grabbed my handbag and the car keys. We found Edward in the living room chatting animatedly with two men in suits.
Edward, excuse me, I interrupted. My headache is getting worse. Im going to the pharmacy, and Poppy is coming with me.
His smile froze for a heartbeat before he turned to the guests with a resigned look. My wife isnt feeling well, he said. Well be back soon. He sounded casual, but his eyes said something I couldnt read.
In the car, Poppy trembled. Drive, Mum, she said, eyes fixed on the house as if expecting something terrible. Get as far away as you can. Ill explain everything on the way.
I started the engine, a storm of questions flooding my mind. What could be so serious? As we drove, Poppy began to speak, and my world shattered.
Edward is trying to kill you, Mum, she said, her voice breaking into sobs. I heard him on the phone last night, talking about putting poison in your tea.
I slammed on the brakes, nearly crashing into a parked lorry at a red light. I was paralyzed, unable to breathe, let alone speak. Poppys words sounded like something out of a cheap thriller.
Whats that supposed to mean? Thats not funny, I managed to say, voice weaker than I wanted.
Do you think Id joke about something like that? she cried, eyes watery, face twisted with fear and anger. I heard everything, Mum. Everything.
A driver behind us honked, and the light turned green. I floorpressed the accelerator, driving aimlessly just to get away. Tell me exactly what you heard, I demanded, trying to stay calm while my heart hammered like a trapped animal.
Poppy inhaled deeply before beginning. Last night I went to get water. It was around two in the morning. Edwards office door was ajar, the light on. He was on the phone, whispering. At first I thought he was talking about the business, but then he said your name.
I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.
He said, Everything is set for tomorrow. Helen will take the tea as she always does at these events. No one will suspect a thing. Itll look like a heart attack. Make sure it happens. Then he laughed, Mum, as if he were talking about the weather.
My stomach turned. This could not be true. Edward, the man I shared a bed with, planning my death? It sounded absurd. Maybe you misheard, I suggested, searching for another explanation. Perhaps he meant another Helen, or it was a metaphor about the business.
Poppy shook her head fiercely. No, Mum. He was talking about you, about todays brunch. He said if you got out of the way, hed have full access to the lifeinsurance money and the house. She hesitated, then added, He even mentioned my name, saying hed take care of me somehow.
A shiver ran down my spine. Edward had always been so caring. How could I have been so wrong? Why would he do that? I whispered, more to myself than to her.
The lifeinsurance, Mum. The one you two took out six months ago. Remember? A million dollars.
I felt as if someone had punched me in the gut. The policyEdward had pushed hard for it, saying it was for my protection. Now, under this dark light, I realized it had been a trap from the start.
Theres more, Poppy continued, almost whispering. After he hung up, he started looking at papers. I waited until he left, went into his office. There were documents about his debts, many debts. The company was on the brink of bankruptcy.
I pulled the car to the side, unable to drive any further. Edward in bankruptcy? How had I not known?
I also found this, Poppy said, pulling a folded slip from her pocket. Its an extract from another bank account in his name. Hes been transferring small amounts for months, trying not to raise suspicion.
I took the paper with trembling hands. It was true. An account I never knew about, siphoning what was essentially our moneythe proceeds from the flat my parents had left me. The reality crystallised, cruel and undeniable. Edward wasnt just broke; he had been stealing from us for months and now decided I was worth more dead than alive.
God, how could I have been so blind? I whispered, nausea rising.
Poppy placed her hand over mine, a surprisingly mature gesture. Its not your fault, Mum. Hes deceived everyone. A terrible thought struck me. Poppy, did you take those documents from his office? What if he notices theyre missing? Her eyes widened with fear. I took photos with my phone and put everything back. I dont think hell notice. Yet neither of us seemed convinced. Edward was meticulous.
We need to call the police, I said, reaching for my phone.
What? That he was on the phone? That we have documents showing hes moving money? We have no proof, Mum, Poppy replied.
She was right. It would be our word against his: a respected businessman against a frantic exwife and a troubled teen. As we weighed our options, my phone buzzed. A message from Edward: Where are you? The guests are asking for you. It sounded so ordinary.
What now? Poppy asked, voice shaking.
We couldnt go back home. That was clear. But we also couldnt simply disappear; Edward had resources. He would find us.
First we need evidence, I decided. Something concrete we can give the police.
Like what?
The substance he planned to use today, I said. My mind raced, daring and desperate. The terror gave way to cold, calculated anger. We had to act fast.
Well go back, I announced, turning the key in the ignition.
What? Mum, are you crazy? Hell kill us! Poppy screamed.
No, if we get there first, I replied, surprised by my own steadiness. Think, Sarah. If we flee now without proof, hell claim I had a nervous breakdown and that you were dragged out by impulse. Hell find us and well be even more vulnerable. I pivoted toward the house. We need solid proof. The poison is our best leverage.
Poppy stared at me, a mix of fear and admiration. But how do we do it without him noticing?
Well keep up the act. Ill say Im going to the pharmacy, take a painkiller, feel a bit better. Youll stay in your room, pretending youre ill too. While I distract Edward and the guests, youll search his office.
She nodded slowly, determination in her eyes. What if I find something? Or if he catches on?
Send me a text that says now. If I get it, Ill make an excuse and we leave immediately. If you find something, take photos but dont take anything.
As we neared the house, my heart pounded. We were about to walk into the lions den. Parking outside, I saw more carsevery guest had arrived.
The murmur of conversation greeted us as we opened the front door. Edward stood in the middle of the lounge, entertaining the crowd. Upon seeing us, his smile faltered for a moment.
Ah, youre back, he said, wrapping an arm around my waist. His touch, once comforting, now felt repulsive. Feeling better, love?
A bit, I replied, forcing a smile. The medicine is starting to work.
Good, he turned to Poppy. You look pale, dear.
I have a headache too, Poppy said, playing her part perfectly. I think Ill go to bed.
Of course, Edward said, his concern convincingly false.
Poppy went upstairs, and I joined the guests, accepting a glass of water Edward offered. I declined the champagne, claiming it didnt mix with my medication.
Nothing for tea today? he asked casually, a chill running down my spine.
I think not, I answered lightly. Im trying to avoid caffeine with my migraine.
A flicker of darkness crossed his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as his charm returned. While Edward guided me through the crowd, I kept a tight smile, but internally I was on high alert. Every touch on my arm made me clench to keep from pulling away. I checked my phone subtlyno message yet.
Twenty minutes later, as Edward and I were chatting with a couple, my phone buzzed. One word on the screen: Now.
Cold fear seized me. We had to leave at once. Excuse me, everyone, I said, forcing a grin. I need to see how Poppy is doing. Before Edward could protest, I rushed upstairs.
I found Poppy in her room, pale as paper. Its coming, she whispered, gripping my arm. I saw him go up and I ran.
Did you find anything? I asked, pulling her toward the door.
Yes, in the office. A tiny, unlabeled bottle in his desk drawer. I took photos.
We didnt have time to waste. Footsteps echoed down the hallway and Edwards voice called, Helen? Sarah? Are you in there?
Poppy and I exchanged a desperate glance. The window looked out onto the back garden, but we were on the second floor; a fall would be risky.
Stay here, I whispered. Well pretend we were talking.
The door opened and Edward stepped in, his gaze immediately landing on Poppys frightened face. Is everything alright? he asked, tone casual but eyes sharp.
Yes, I replied, trying to sound normal. Sarah still has a headache. I came to see if she needed anything.
Edward stared a moment, narrowing his eyes. And you, love, are you feeling better?
Better, I said, forcing a laugh. I think I can join the party.
He smiled, but the smile didnt reach his eyes. Excellent. Ive prepared that special tea you like. Its waiting in the kitchen.
A knot tightened in my stomach. The tea. The trap he had mentioned on the phone. Thanks, but I dont think Ill have it, I said, reaching for an excuse. The medicine
I insist, he interrupted, his tone now firm yet still polite. Its a blend I ordered especially for you. It helps with headaches.
I realized the danger. Refusing outright would raise suspicion; drinking it could be fatal. Fine, I said finally, buying time. Ill stay a few more minutes with Sarah.
Edward hesitated, then nodded. Dont be long.
When he left, the door closed behind him. The tea, Poppy whispered. Hell force you to drink it.
I know, I replied, panic rising. We have to get out now, even if we have to use the window. As we planned our escape, a sound froze me: a key turning in the lock, sealing us inside. Edward had been watching us.
Did he lock us in? Poppy cried, trying the door in vain.
Fear threatened to paralyse me, but I forced myself to think. If he had locked us, he suspected something. The window, I said, moving quickly toward it. It was about five metres to the grounda dangerous drop but survivable.
Its too high, Mum, Poppy said, her face twisted with fear.
Its our only chance, I replied, scanning the room. My eyes fell on the duvet. We can tie it into a makeshift rope. I ripped it off the bed and began knotting it to the heavy desk base. It wouldnt reach the ground, but it would lessen the fall.
Mum, Poppy whispered, pointing to the door. Hes coming back.
Footsteps grew louder. Quick, I urged, finishing the knot and tossing the duvet out the window. You go first. Drop as low as you can, then let go.
Poppy hesitated only a heartbeat before she positioned herself at the window. The footsteps were nearer. We heard the lock click. Run! I shouted.
She began to descend. I watched anxiously as she reached the end of the cloth, still two metres above the lawn. Let go now! I urged, as the door began to open. She slipped, landing on the grass, rolling as we had practiced. She sprang up, giving me a thumbsup.
There was no time to waste. Edward burst into the room. Without thinking, I grabbed the duvet and hurled myself out the window, sliding down the fabric so fast my hands burned. I hit the ground hard, a sharp pain in my left ankle, but adrenaline dulled it.
Run! I yelled to Poppy. I saw Edwards face at the window, fury etched across it.
Its coming down the stairs, I warned, taking Poppys hand. We must hurry. We fled across the back garden, limping toward the low wall that divided our property from the lane. We heard doors slamming and voices shouting. Edward had alerted the guests, turning our escape into a public spectacle.
We reached a small woodland reserve. The photos,In that moment I learned that even the quietest voice can become a lifeline, and that trusting love over fear can turn a desperate escape into a new beginning.
