THE POISON WAS PATIENT

CHAPTER 8

Fifteen days had passed since Mr. Malhotra's death.

Fifteen nights of broken sleep.

Fifteen mornings of waking up with the same terrifying question—

Who had poisoned her husband?

For fifteen days, Anita had barely been able to sleep. Every sound in the house startled her. Every unfamiliar car outside made her heart race.

But today had been different.

For the first time since his death, she had managed to sleep peacefully for a few hours in the afternoon.

And now, as evening slowly settled over the house, Anita finally felt a little calmer.

She was sitting alone in the garden.

A book rested in her hands, although she hadn't read the same page properly for the last ten minutes.

Beside her, on the small table, sat a cup of coffee.

The garden was quiet.

Almost too quiet.

Then—

Ding... Dong.

Anita looked toward the house.

She hadn't been expecting anyone.

She placed the book beside her and reached for her coffee.

Before she could take another sip—

Ding... Dong.

The second ring was louder.

Anita sighed and stood up.

She walked toward the front door.

Her footsteps echoed through the empty house.

She unlocked the door.

And froze.

A woman was standing outside.

She was dressed in an impeccably elegant saree, wearing black sunglasses and carrying a small, expensive-looking handbag. Her posture was straight, her expression unreadable.

But Anita knew her.

She hadn't seen her in years.

And she certainly hadn't expected to see her here.

It was Mrs. Malhotra.

Her husband's mother.

Anita's heart sank.

The woman who hadn't come to see her son when he was dying.

The woman who hadn't attended the prayers after his death.

The woman whose family had never accepted Anita.

And now, fifteen days after her son's death...

She was standing at Anita's door.

Anita stared at her.

"Why did you come here?"

Mrs. Malhotra didn't answer.

Instead, she looked past Anita.

Into the house.

Her eyes slowly travelled across the living room, the staircase, the hallway.

She wasn't looking at Anita.

She was looking for something.

Without asking permission, she stepped inside.

Her heels made a slow, deliberate sound against the marble floor.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Anita shut the door behind her.

"Ma."

The woman continued walking.

"Mrs. Malhotra."

She stopped.

Slowly, she turned around.

Her sunglasses were still on.

"I want to talk to you."

Anita crossed her arms.

"About what?"

Mrs. Malhotra removed her sunglasses.

Her eyes were cold.

"Business."

Anita almost laughed.

"Business?"

"Yes."

"Your son has been dead for fifteen days, and that's what you've come here to discuss?"

Mrs. Malhotra's expression didn't change.

"Let's not waste each other's time."

Anita's jaw tightened.

"You didn't come when he was sick."

Silence.

"You didn't come when he died."

Still nothing.

"You didn't even come to his prayers."

Anita stepped closer.

"But now you suddenly remember that you have a son?"

Mrs. Malhotra's eyes narrowed.

"Be careful, Anita."

"No."

Anita's voice trembled, but she didn't step back.

"I've been careful for fifteen days."

Her eyes filled with anger.

"Careful while sleeping alone in this house. Careful while answering the police. Careful while wondering who wanted my husband dead."

She pointed toward the door.

"And now you walk into my house and expect me to listen to you?"

Mrs. Malhotra sighed.

"My son is dead. Let us not make this more difficult than it already is."

Anita stared at her.

"You want something."

"Of course I do."

"What?"

Mrs. Malhotra looked directly into her eyes.

"The company."

Anita's expression changed.

"What?"

"Hand over the companies."

For a moment, Anita couldn't believe what she had heard.

"You came here for the company?"

"Yes."

"After everything your family did to him?"

Mrs. Malhotra's expression hardened.

"My son made mistakes."

"He built those companies himself!"

"He was my son."

"And you tried to destroy him!"

The room fell silent.

Anita's breathing became heavier.

Mrs. Malhotra's eyes suddenly became strangely calm.

"Give me the company papers."

"No."

The answer came instantly.

Mrs. Malhotra stared at her.

"I don't think you understand your position."

"I understand it perfectly."

Anita stepped closer.

"This is my husband's property now."

"Then you are going to make this difficult."

"I don't care."

A faint smile appeared on Mrs. Malhotra's lips.

It wasn't a kind smile.

It was the kind of smile that made Anita's stomach twist.

"Perhaps you should."

Mrs. Malhotra slowly reached into her expensive handbag.

Anita watched her hand disappear inside.

"What are you doing?"

No answer.

Mrs. Malhotra pulled something out.

For a second, Anita couldn't understand what she was looking at.

Then she saw it.

A gun.

The barrel was pointed directly at her forehead.

Anita's eyes widened.

Her breath stopped.

The book she'd been carrying earlier suddenly felt like a lifetime away.

"What... are you doing?"

Her voice barely came out.

Mrs. Malhotra's hand remained perfectly steady.

"I'm giving you one last opportunity."

"Put the gun down."

"Where are the papers?"

"I don't have them."

Mrs. Malhotra's expression didn't change.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying!"

The gun moved a fraction closer.

Anita's heart hammered against her chest.

Mrs. Malhotra leaned forward.

"Then perhaps you need a little motivation."

Anita stared at the gun.

And then something struck her.

If Mrs. Malhotra really wanted the company...

why had she brought a gun?

Why come herself?

Why now?

And why was she so certain that Anita had the papers?

Anita slowly looked at her.

"You knew..."

Mrs. Malhotra's eyes narrowed.

"Knew what?"

"You knew my husband was going to die."

For the first time—

Mrs. Malhotra's face changed.

Just for a second.

But Anita saw it.

Fear.

Anita's voice became quieter.

"You knew."

The old woman said nothing.

Anita took one trembling breath.

"Did you poison him?"

The room went completely silent.

Then Mrs. Malhotra whispered,

"Give me the papers..."

Her voice was no longer cold.

It was desperate.

"...and you might survive long enough to find out."

Anita's blood ran cold.

Because suddenly she understood.

The woman standing in front of her wasn't asking for the company.

She was trying to erase something.

Something that was hidden inside those papers.

Something Mr. Malhotra had apparently been protecting until the day he died.

And whatever it was...

Mrs. Malhotra was willing to kill again to get it.