The Man Standing In The Driveway

“Isabella!” Luca shouted, dropping the phone.

He grabbed his daughter by the shoulders, frantically checking her face, her eyes, her pulse.

Isabella looked up at him, confused and frightened.

“Daddy, what’s wrong? I feel fine,” she whimpered.

“Emma,” Luca turned to me, his eyes wild with terror. “Did you see her drink it? Did she have hot chocolate tonight?”

Answer One: Bianca had poisoned Isabella’s evening drink before the dinner party even started.

I looked at the empty blister pack in my shaking hand.

My mind raced backward through the evening. The kitchen had been chaotic. I was frosting the cake. Bianca had come in, poured a mug of hot chocolate, and ordered me to take it up to Isabella’s room.

“I brought the mug upstairs,” I said, my voice trembling. “I set it on her nightstand.”

“We have to get her to a hospital,” Victor said, pulling out his car keys. “If it’s a fast-acting neurotoxin, they might be able to pump her stomach in time.”

Luca scooped Isabella into his arms. The little girl began to cry, sensing the absolute panic in the room.

We sprinted down the stairs. The remaining guests had fled, leaving the mansion eerily quiet. Plates of half-eaten food and spilled wine littered the dining room.

We burst through the front doors into the freezing rain.

Victor’s black sedan was parked in the driveway. Luca threw open the back door, gently placing Isabella inside.

“Drive,” Luca ordered Victor, jumping into the back seat beside his daughter.

I slid into the passenger seat, my hands shaking so violently I couldn’t buckle my seatbelt.

Victor slammed on the gas. The car tore down the long gravel driveway, fishtailing wildly before hitting the main road.

“Bella, sweetheart, stay awake,” Luca pleaded, holding her face in his hands. “Look at me. Keep your eyes open.”

“Daddy, I’m tired,” Isabella slurred. Her eyelids were drooping, her skin turning an unnatural shade of pale.

“No, no, no,” Luca choked out. “Emma, call the hospital. Tell them we have a pediatric poisoning. ETA ten minutes.”

I pulled out my phone, my fingers slipping on the screen.

But as I looked back at Isabella, a sudden, jarring memory struck me.

Open Two: Did Isabella actually drink the hot chocolate?

I remembered placing the mug on the nightstand.

I remembered Isabella sitting on the floor, crying because her father had forgotten her birthday.

And then I remembered what I did next.

“Wait,” I whispered.

Luca looked up, frantic. “What?”

“The mug,” I said, my heart pounding against my ribs. “When I went into her room… she was upset. She accidentally knocked the mug off the nightstand with her elbow.”

Luca froze. “She spilled it?”

“It shattered,” I said, the memory becoming crystal clear. “It soaked into the rug. I cleaned it up. I didn’t want Bianca to yell at her, so I made her a new drink.”

Reversal: Isabella never drank the poisoned hot chocolate.

“What did you make her?” Victor demanded from the driver’s seat, swerving around a slow-moving truck.

“I went back to the kitchen and got her a carton of apple juice from the staff fridge,” I said, a wave of immense relief washing over me. “She drank the juice. Not the hot chocolate.”

Luca let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. He pulled Isabella tightly against his chest, kissing the top of her head repeatedly.

“She’s not poisoned,” Luca whispered, tears streaming down his face. “She’s just exhausted.”

Isabella, completely oblivious to the fact that she had just avoided death, rested her head against her father’s chest and closed her eyes, peacefully falling asleep.

We were safe. The threat was neutralized.

But Victor didn’t slow the car down.

“Victor,” Luca said, wiping his face. “Turn around. We don’t need the hospital.”

“Yes, we do,” Victor said grimly, his eyes locked on the rearview mirror.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

Victor nodded toward the mirror.

I turned around and looked out the back window.

Two massive black SUVs with their headlights off were speeding down the wet highway, weaving recklessly through traffic, gaining on us fast.