“No, they are still in the fridge. The kids wanted to eat them last night, but I told them only after lunch today. Why? What is wrong with them?”

Now she was alert, worried.

I felt a momentary relief flood my body.

Thank God.

“Emily, Ryan called me in a panic, telling me not to let you guys eat the chocolates. He said they are spoiled or something. Do not let anyone touch them.”

“Spoiled? Susan, they look perfectly fine, and they are from a super expensive brand. I saw that when you brought them yesterday.”

Emily was confused, and so was I.

“I know, but there is something very wrong with this. Ryan was desperate. Throw them away, please. Or better yet, keep them untouched until he explains what is going on.”

A few minutes later, Ryan called me back.

His voice was a little calmer, but still tense.

“Mom, did Emily answer?”

“Yes, they did not eat them. The chocolates are still in the refrigerator. Ryan, for the love of God, explain to me what is happening.”

My voice came out louder than I intended, mixing fear with frustration.

He took a deep breath on the other end of the line.

“Mom, I did not send those chocolates.”

His words took a few seconds to make sense in my brain.

“What do you mean you did not send them? You just asked me if I liked them.”

“I asked because I saw the picture you sent yesterday. When I saw that box, I got confused because I had not sent anything. I thought maybe it was from one of your friends, but when you did not reply anymore, I got worried, and I could not sleep all night thinking about it.”

He paused between sentences as if measuring every word.

“But then who sent them?”

My voice came out weak, fear starting to really set in.

“I do not know, Mom, but I have a terrible feeling. I am heading there right now to get those chocolates and take them to be analyzed. Do not let anyone touch them.”

“Analyzed? Ryan, do you think there is something wrong with the chocolates? Like poisoned?”

The word came out of my mouth before I completely processed the idea.

More silence.

“I do not know, Mom, but I prefer to be sure. Stay away from them. I’m going to call Emily now and tell her the same thing.”

He hung up, and I stood in the middle of my living room trying to process what was happening.

Someone had sent me a box of extremely expensive chocolates anonymously on my 60th birthday.

And now my son was in a panic, believing they might be contaminated.

Who would do something like that?

Who would want to hurt me?

I am a retired teacher. I live a quiet life. I have no enemies.

The idea was absurd.

But the desperation in Ryan’s voice was too real to ignore.

I sat on the couch and started to shake.

If those chocolates really were poisoned, I had given them to my daughter-in-law and my grandchildren.

If they had eaten them, no, I could not even think about it.

The mere possibility made me nauseous.

Ryan arrived at my house two hours later.

He had left New York City and driven straight to my house.

When he opened the door, I saw that his face was pale with deep circles under his eyes.

Emily was with him, and the kids had stayed with her mother.

“Where is the box?”

That was the first thing he asked without even saying hello.

“Did you bring it from your place?” I asked Emily.

She nodded.

“It is here.”

She held up a plastic bag where the box of chocolates was carefully wrapped.

Ryan took the bag as if he were holding a bomb.

“I am taking this to a private lab in the city. A friend of mine works there and said he can run a quick analysis.”

“Ryan, you are scaring me. Explain to me exactly what you think is happening.”

I held his arm, forcing him to look me in the eyes.

He sighed heavily.

“Mom, do you remember mentioning anything about money recently? About inheritance, investments, anything like that?”

“Not that I recall. Why?”

Emily interrupted.

“Susan, Ryan thinks someone might be trying… might be trying to hurt you, too.”

She could not finish the sentence.

“To rob me?” I finished, incredulous.

“But I do not have that much money. I have this house paid off and modest savings. I am not rich.”

“How much do you have in savings?” Ryan asked directly.

“I do not know exactly. Maybe $100,000. Why?”

Ryan and Emily exchanged a look.

“Mom, that is not a small amount of money. And with the house, you have considerable assets.”

He paused.

“Who is your heir?”

“You are. Obviously, you are my only son.”

I answered, but then something clicked in my mind.

“Ryan, you are not thinking that—”

“No, Mom. Of course not,” he interrupted me quickly. “But someone might know about your financial situation. Someone who would benefit from your death.”

The world seemed to spin around me.

Someone wanted to kill me.

That was what my son was insinuating.

Someone had planned this.

Bought expensive chocolates, poisoned them, and sent them on my birthday.

And I innocently had given them to my daughter-in-law and my grandkids.

The children.

My voice failed.

If they had eaten them.

Emily started to cry.

“Do not think about that, Susan. They did not eat them. Everything is fine.”

But everything was not fine.

Nothing was fine.

I sat on the couch because my legs would not hold me up anymore.

Ryan knelt in front of me.

“Mom, I promise you we are going to find out who did this. But first, I need to confirm if there really is something wrong with the chocolates. It could be my paranoia. It could be that they are perfectly normal.”

“But you do not think they are, do you?”

I looked into his eyes and saw the truth.

“No, Mom. I do not think so.”

He left with Emily right after taking the box of chocolates. He promised to call me as soon as he had the results.

I was left alone in my house with a heavy silence and even heavier thoughts.

I spent the rest of Sunday in a state of shock.

I could not do anything but sit staring at the walls, my mind going in circles.

Who would do this to me?

I tried to make a mental list of everyone I knew, looking for someone who might have a motive.

My neighbors? Impossible.

Mrs. Henderson next door is a 75-year-old lady who can barely leave the house. The couple on the other side are busy professionals who barely wave at me.

There was no animosity there, just polite indifference.

My former co-workers, that did not make sense either.

I retired two years ago on good terms with everyone. There were no disputes, fights, or resentments that I knew of.

Family, I do not have much.

My parents have already passed. I am an only child. Robert, my late husband, had a brother who lives in Texas and whom I have not been in contact with for years.

Ryan is my only son.

There were no close cousins, aunts, or other relatives who could be interested in my money.

So, who?

Night came, and I had not eaten anything all day. I did not feel hungry, just a hollow feeling in my stomach that was not physical.

I tried to sleep, but it was impossible.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, imagining increasingly terrifying scenarios.

What if the chocolates really were poisoned?

What if I had eaten them, as was the intention of whoever sent them?

I would have died alone in this house, and they probably would have thought it was natural causes, a heart attack, maybe.

My body would have been found days later. When Ryan finally decided to visit me, or when the neighbors noticed the smell.

The image was so horrible, it made me get out of bed.

I went to the kitchen, made some chamomile tea, and sat at the table.

I looked at my house with different eyes.

This house, which was my refuge, my safe place, suddenly seemed vulnerable.

Anyone could send something through the mail.

Any delivery driver could bring death wrapped in pretty paper.

My cell phone rang in the middle of the night, startling me.

“Mom, I got a preliminary result. Are you sitting down?”

My heart skyrocketed.

“I am. Tell me.”

“There is arsenic in the chocolates. A lethal amount.”

His voice was controlled, but I could feel the tension behind every word.

My world collapsed.

My most absurd suspicions had been confirmed.

Someone really had tried to kill me.

“Arsenic.”

I repeated the strange word in my mouth.

“Mom, I am calling the police right now. This is attempted murder. You cannot stay there alone.”

Ryan was in protective mode, already planning the next steps.

“The police.”

My mind was processing slowly.

“But how are they going to find out who did this?”

“They will investigate. They will trace who bought the arsenic. Where did the chocolates come from? Who made the delivery? There are ways to find out, Mom.”

He made it sound simple, but I knew it would not be.

“I do not want to stay here alone,” I admitted, my voice coming out small and scared.

“I know. I am coming to get you early tomorrow morning. You are going to stay at my place until we sort this out. Pack a bag with clothes for a few days.”

After hanging up with Ryan, reality finally hit me with full force.

Someone had put poison in expensive chocolates, packaged everything beautifully, and sent it to me as a birthday gift.

That person expected me to eat them, expected me to die.

And it almost worked.

If not for my impulsive decision to share with Emily and the kids, I would have eaten those chocolates probably Friday night after dinner while watching television.

I would have savored every single one, happy with what I thought was a generous gift from someone who cared about me.

And then how long would it take?

Does arsenic act fast?

Would I have felt pain?

Would I have realized I was being poisoned?

Or would I think it was a sudden heart attack?

Those questions tormented me.

I spent the night awake.

Every little noise made me jump.

The wind hitting the window sounded like someone trying to get in. The normal creaking of the house sounded like stealthy footsteps.

I was paranoid, but I had plenty of reasons to be.

Ryan arrived at 7:00 in the morning with Emily.

They had dropped the kids off at school and came straight to get me.

I was already ready with a small suitcase packed.

I looked at my house before leaving, wondering when I would feel safe there again.

During the drive to the city, Ryan explained that the police would come to interview me that same day.

They needed all the information.

When did I receive the chocolates? Did I see the delivery driver? Was there any clue as to who might have sent them?

“Mom, you have to think hard. Anyone you fought with recently? Any argument at the supermarket? On the street, anything?”

Ryan was driving too fast, his hands tense on the steering wheel.

“No, son. I live a very quiet life. I do not fight with anyone.”

It was frustrating not having any leads to offer.

“And money? Did anyone ask to borrow money and you refused? Any situation like that?”

Emily turned from the front seat to look at me.

I thought carefully.

“Not recently. About six months ago, a former coworker asked to borrow $500. I lent it to her, and she already paid me back.”

“Who?” Ryan asked immediately.

“Vera. You know her. But it was not her. I am sure she needed the money for her husband’s surgery. She paid me back as soon as the insurance reimbursed them.”