Chapter 2 - The Screams in the Master Suite
The sound of Edgar’s shrieking tore through the sprawling house like a siren.
“Help! Oh God! Help me! Something bit me! Ahhhh!”
Heavy thudding footsteps echoed across the hardwood floor of the master suite as Edgar bolted out into the hallway, thrashing wildly. A second later, Kristina’s bedroom door flew open down the hall, and my mother-in-law emerged wrapped in a silk robe, feigning a look of absolute, Academy-Award-winning horror.
“Edgar! Edgar, what happened?!” Kristina shrieked, rushing toward her son as he collapsed near the landing of the stairs.
I stepped out from the shadows of the foyer, my face a mask of cold, calculated calm. I switched on the grand chandelier overhead, flooding the hallway in harsh, unforgiving light.
Edgar was clutching his right hand, blood already welling from two deep, dark puncture wounds on his index finger. His face had already begun to turn an alarming shade of pale gray, sweat pouring down his forehead as the neurotoxic venom rapidly entered his bloodstream.
“A snake! There’s a snake in the bed!” Edgar gasped, his eyes wide with sheer panic as he looked at me. “Nora—call 911! Call an ambulance right now!”
I didn’t move. I slowly crossed my arms over my chest, looking down at my husband with eyes as cold as the Arizona desert at midnight.
“Nora! What are you standing there for? Are you insane? Call the police! Call the hospital!” Kristina screamed at me, her hands hovering uselessly over her son, though her eyes darted toward the master bedroom with unmistakable dread. She knew exactly what was in that bed. She had put it there to kill me.
“Oh, don’t worry, Edgar,” I said, my voice cutting through his panicked wails with icy precision. “I wouldn't dream of letting you die. After all... you’re the sole beneficiary of my twenty-five-million-dollar life insurance policy.”
Edgar froze, his breathing hitching. The color drained even further from his face—though whether it was from the venom or the terrifying realization in my words, I couldn't be sure.
“What... what are you talking about?” Edgar choked out, his voice trembling as he clutched his swelling hand.
“I’m talking about the papers you and your mother were so eager to cash in on,” I replied smoothly, pulling my phone from my pocket. “Don’t worry, I’ll call the paramedics. We wouldn't want you to miss out on your future with Heather Perkinson, would we?”
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Kristina’s jaw dropped. She lunged forward, her face contorted in rage. “You—you witch! You knew!”
“I knew enough,” I snapped, tapping 911 on my screen, before looking down at Edgar as he writhed in agony on the carpet. “Let’s see if twenty-five million dollars can buy you an antidote, darling.”
