There was an awkward pause. “And… what about that foundation you mentioned? Is that really something you want to do right now? Maybe it’s better to rest a bit before starting new projects.”
Ah, so that was it. The money. Always the money. “It’s all in motion, Rachel. In fact, I’m going to sign the final documents with Nora right now.”
Another pause, longer this time. “How much… how much are you putting into that foundation, Mom?”
I closed my eyes, controlling the wave of pain that threatened to swallow me. “Thirty million,” I answered calmly, a lie I knew would make her desperate. “It’s a good start for the work I want to do.”
I could hear her sharp intake of breath. “Thirty million? But Mom, that’s… that’s almost everything! You can’t!”
“I have to go, dear. The taxi is here.” I hung up before she could protest further. Now I knew exactly what my life was worth to my daughter and her husband: somewhere between seventeen and forty-seven million dollars.
Three hours later, the lab called. The report was ready. The technician handed me the sealed envelope, his hands trembling slightly. In the car, I opened it. The analysis was clear and devastating: Propranolol, in a concentration ten times higher than the normal therapeutic dose. A dose that, according to the technician’s note, could cause severe bradycardia, hypotension, and possible cardiac arrest in individuals with pre-existing cardiovascular conditions. Exactly what I had: hypertension and a slight heart murmur. Conditions that Rachel knew perfectly well. Conditions that would make my passing seem tragically natural. A perfect, untraceable plan.
I drove straight to Nora’s office. When I entered, she was already waiting for me behind her imposing oak desk. I placed the lab report on the desk without a word.
She read it quickly, her face remaining impassive except for a brief, sharp tightening of her lips. “Propranolol,” she said finally. “An interesting choice. Difficult to detect in a routine autopsy. Clever.”
“She studied nursing for two semesters before dropping out,” I explained, the memory now feeling sinister. “She must have learned just enough.”
Nora leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled. “So, what do you want to do, Helen? We can go to the police with this. It’s an open-and-shut case.”