My Stepmother's Betrayal

The rain hadn't stopped since the night Sophia and I met Emily. It was as if the sky itself was mourning with me, pounding the city in endless grey sheets.

I sat in Sophia's car, a block away from the small private clinic Dr. Patel had told me about. The windshield wipers squeaked back and forth, but they did nothing to calm the storm inside my chest.

Beside me, Sophia fidgeted with her phone, eyes darting to the rear-view mirror every few seconds. "I still don't like this, Nina," she said, her voice low but fierce. "What if it's a trap?"

"He treated my mom when she was scared," I murmured, my voice tight. "He's the only person left who might tell me the truth."

Sophia turned to me, her eyes fierce with worry. "You're not going in there alone. I don't care what he said."

I managed a thin smile. "I need you out here, Soph. If something goes wrong, I'll need a quick escape." I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Please."

She sighed, then pulled me into a quick hug. "Two minutes. If you're not out, I'm coming in with a bat."

I laughed — the sound hollow but real — and opened the door into the cold, soaking night.

Dr. Patel's clinic looked nothing like the sterile hospital I'd spent so many nights in with Mom. The waiting area was small, the paint peeling in spots, a single flickering bulb casting odd shadows across the walls.

A figure stepped out from the hallway, and I almost didn't recognise him from the LinkedIn photo I'd found. His hair was more grey than black now, his face gaunt and deeply lined, eyes darting nervously past me.

"Nina Orakwue," he whispered, as if saying my name too loudly might bring the walls down. "Come, quickly."

I followed him into his cramped office, past towers of disorganised files, outdated charts, and a faint scent of antiseptic mixed with damp.

"Thank you for answering me," I said, my throat tight. "I know you tried to help her."

Dr. Patel let out a shaky breath, dropping into the creaking chair behind his desk. "Your mother was one of the bravest women I've ever met. She came to me when she first suspected she was being poisoned."

The word hit me like a slap. "Poisoned. So it's true."

He nodded, sliding open an old metal drawer. "She asked me to run tests — privately, without alerting your father or… Mirabel."

My stomach turned at the sound of her name.

"She showed up at my clinic one evening, pale, vomiting, bruises that didn't match any illness. She'd already been to her usual hospital, but they told her it was stress, an ulcer, anxiety — lies."

He pulled out a battered folder and pushed it towards me. "This is why she trusted me."

I flipped open the file with trembling hands. Inside were lab reports with my mother's name typed neatly across the top. Words leapt off the page — arsenic detected, traces of thallium, suspected chronic poisoning.

My mouth went dry. "How did they… I mean… they were living under the same roof."

Dr. Patel's expression darkened. "Your mother believed your father and Mirabel were in this together. Small doses in her drinks, her food — mixed just right so it mimicked other conditions."

I felt tears burn behind my eyes. I wanted to scream, to tear the pages apart, to make it not true. But the truth was there, in black and white, in my mother's own bloodwork.

"Why didn't you go to the police?" I demanded.

His shoulders sagged. "She was afraid for you. She said they'd come for you if they knew she was investigating. We planned to gather enough evidence to expose them, but… she died before she could return for the final test results."

He handed me a small, cheap USB drive sealed in a plastic bag. "Everything is backed up here. Keep it safe. If they know you have this—"

His voice cut off at the sound of footsteps creaking in the hallway outside.

I snapped the folder shut, my pulse pounding. I checked my phone — a message from Sophia, just two words: Black car.

"They're here," I whispered.

Dr. Patel's face went pale. He pointed towards the back door. "Take the fire exit. Don't look back. And Nina — if I disappear, don't come back here. You understand?"

I nodded, clutching the folder and USB to my chest like a lifeline.

As I slipped out of the office, I heard Patel's office door creak open again. Voices, muffled but sharp — and then silence.

The back alley was slick with rainwater. I sprinted toward Sophia's car parked down the block. But halfway there, headlights flared to life — blinding me.

A sleek black car lurched forward, blocking my path. Tires screeched against wet asphalt.

I froze. A figure stepped out — umbrella up, heels clicking against the pavement. Even in the dim light, I'd know that silhouette anywhere.

Mirabel.

She looked immaculate, as always. Her lips curved into that sickeningly sweet smile that never reached her eyes.

"Going somewhere, dear?" Her voice was soft, deadly. "Why don't we talk about what you have in that folder?"

My breath caught in my throat. Behind her, another figure stepped out of the car — my father.

I backed away slowly, my mind screaming Run. But there was nowhere to go — the car blocked the alley, the buildings loomed like prison walls.

"I know what you did," I spat, my voice shaking with rage. "And I'm going to prove it."

Mirabel stepped closer, raindrops sliding off her umbrella. "Nina, Nina… you should've stayed quiet."

I clutched the folder tighter, my mother's voice echoing in my head: If anything happens to me, don't trust her.

I turned, ready to bolt — but my father's hand clamped down on my arm, pulling me back into the shadows.

Through the roar of the rain, I heard Sophia's voice — faint but frantic. "Nina!"

I caught her silhouette at the end of the alley — but between us stood my father, Mirabel, and a secret they'd kill to keep buried.