I mean, it’s still early. Let’s enjoy it a little longer. But Edward could see she was fighting something.
Her hands were trembling more visibly now, and she seemed to have difficulty focusing her gaze. Small beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, despite the pleasant temperature of the room. Her phone vibrated on the table, and Edward managed to see part of the message before she quickly snatched it.
The words not yet and wait were visible on the screen, sent by a contact saved only as M. No work, she explained, hurriedly putting the phone away. You know how clients are, always urgent. But Edward no longer believed her explanations.
With each passing minute, the terrible possibility that a six-year-old child had saved his life became more real. And if that were true, it meant the woman he had loved for two years had planned something unimaginable against him. An hour had passed since dessert, when Isabella began to show more worrying signs.
Her hands trembled visibly as she tried to pick up her water glass, and Edward had to lean forward to hear her words, which came out increasingly low and slurred. Edward, she murmured, her eyes struggling to maintain focus. I don’t think I’m feeling very well.
His heart pounded, a complex mix of panic and confirmation taking over his feelings. On one hand, seeing the woman he loved suffer distressed him. On the other, the terrible reality that she had tried to do the same to him created a whirlwind of emotions he could barely process.
Let’s get out of here, Edward said, discreetly signalling the waiter. You need some fresh air. But before he could stand up, Isabella grabbed his arm with surprising strength for someone in her condition.
No, she whispered urgently. We can’t go yet. I need, I need to stay here.
Her insistence on remaining in the restaurant, even while feeling unwell, confirmed Edward’s darkest suspicions. She was waiting for something or someone. Perhaps she was waiting for the effects to manifest in him, or perhaps there was a larger plan underway.
Isabella’s phone vibrated again, and this time Edward managed to see the full message before she could hide it. Where’s the result? It should have happened by now. It was from the same contact, M, who had sent the previous message.
I- Isabella, Edward said, his voice filled with an authority she had never heard before. Who is M? She looked at him with glazed eyes, struggling to process the question. I don’t know what you’re talking about, she murmured.
But her attempt to lie was pathetic in her weakened state. Edward took her phone before she could react, scrolling through recent messages. What he found chilled his blood.
Detailed conversations about the plan, references to substance in the cake, and most shockingly, discussions about his fortune and how it would be divided after his accidental death. My God, Edward murmured, the pieces finally fitting, together into a terrifying picture. How long have you been planning this? Isabella tried to deny it, but her protests came out incoherently.
The effects of the substance in her system made it impossible to maintain any facade. Tears began to stream down her face, a mixture of fear, regret, and desperation at being discovered. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she whimpered.
You weren’t supposed to- How did you know? A six-year-old girl, had more courage and honesty than the woman I loved. Edward replied, his voice trembling with restrained emotion. A child you probably wouldn’t even consider human saved my life.
The restaurant around them continued its nightly energy. Completely oblivious to the personal drama unfolding at the corner table, Edward realized he needed to act quickly. Isabella was clearly in medical danger, and regardless of what she had tried to do, he couldn’t just let her die.
I’m calling an ambulance, he said, picking up his own phone. No, Isabella managed to gather her strength to protest. You can’t- They’ll find out.
I’ll go to jail. You should have thought of that before you tried to poison me. Edward replied coldly, but dialed 911 nonetheless.
While speaking to the dispatcher, explaining that his companion had suddenly fallen ill, Edward watched Isabella deteriorate. Her skin was pale and sweaty, her breathing irregular, and she seemed to have difficulty maintaining consciousness. The maitre d’ approached the table, clearly concerned about the situation.
Is there a problem, Mr. Miller? He asked, but Edward noticed nervousness in his voice. Can we help in any way? Edward studied the man’s face, noticing signs of anxiety that went beyond normal professional concern. You’re part of this too, aren’t you? He asked directly.
The maitre d’ paled, confirming Edward’s suspicions. I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir, he stammered, but his nervous eyes betrayed him. How many people are involved in this conspiracy? Edward stood up, his imposing height intimidating the smaller man.
How many employees of this restaurant? Knew my girlfriend was trying to kill me. The murmur from nearby tables subsided as other customers began to realize something was wrong. Whispers spread through the room, and Edward realized he would soon have an audience for the unfolding drama.
Isabella moaned softly, her head lolling forward as she fought unconsciousness. Edward felt a pang of pain in his chest, seeing her like, this not for the woman who had tried to kill him, but for the image of the person he thought she was. In the back of his mind, a single image reassured him.
The large, brave eyes of a girl who had risked everything to save a stranger. In a world full of betrayal and greed, at least there was still pure innocence and kindness. The sound of the ambulance siren echoed through the busy streets before stopping in front of the gilded lily.
Edward watched through the restaurant windows as paramedics disembarked from the vehicle with medical equipment, preparing for what they believed was just another routine medical emergency. They had no idea they were about to get involved in a thwarted murder attempt. Isabella had lost consciousness completely, her limp body in the chair supported only by the upholstered.
Backrest. Edward felt a complex mix of emotions observing her in that state. Anger at the betrayal, sadness for the lost love, and a basic human concern he couldn’t completely suppress.
The paramedics entered the restaurant with professional efficiency, carrying a foldable stretcher and a medical bag. The elegant ambiance of the gilded lily contrasted bizarrely with the unfolding medical emergency, creating a surreal scene that captured the attention of all present customers. What happened? asked the lead paramedic, a middle-aged man with experienced eyes that had seen it all.
He knelt beside Isabella, checking her vital signs with quick, precise movements. She suddenly felt unwell, Edward explained, technically telling the truth. It started with a headache and dizziness, then rapidly worsened.
The paramedic frowned as he examined Isabella. Low blood pressure, dilated pupils, irregular breathing, he muttered to his partner. Looks like poisoning.
Did you consume alcohol or any substances? Edward hesitated for a moment, realizing he was on the threshold of a decision that would change everything. He could simply say he knew nothing, let the doctors figure it out on their own. Or he could tell the truth and face the consequences of an accusation no one would believe.
We ate the same meal, he finally said, but I feel fine. Udine. As the paramedics prepared Isabella for transport, Edward noticed suspicious movement in his peripheral vision.
The maître d’ was talking rapidly with two men in suits he hadn’t seen before. They gestured nervously towards the table where everything had happened, clearly concerned about the turn of events. One of the men took out his phone and made a quick call, speaking in low but urgent tones.
Edward managed to catch a few words. Problem. Plan failed.
Damage control. It was obvious the conspiracy went far beyond Isabella and a few restaurant employees. Sir, will you accompany the patient to the hospital? The paramedic asked, interrupting Edward’s observations.
Of course, he replied, but his eyes remained fixed on the suspicious men. She’s my girlfriend. As the stretcher was prepared, Edward discreetly photographed the men with his cell phone, trying to document faces that might be important later.
He noticed one of them was watching him too, and their eyes met for a tense moment. The transport to the ambulance was quick, but Edward felt each second stretch as he processed the magnitude of what he had discovered. It wasn’t just a greedy girlfriend trying to inherit his fortune.
There was an organized network behind the assassination attempt, people who had invested time and resources in the plan. At the hospital, Edward watched the doctors take Isabella to the emergency room, while a nurse led him to a waiting area. The sterile environment and typical hospital sounds created a surreal atmosphere after the elegance of the restaurant where it all began.
Mr. Miller? A voice behind him made him turn. Two NYPD detectives stood in the doorway, their serious faces suggesting this wasn’t a courtesy visit. That’s me, Edward replied, feeling his stomach clench.
Detective Thompson and Detective Rodriguez, they introduced themselves, showing their badges. We need to talk to you about tonight’s events. The hospital is required to report suspected cases of poisoning.
Edward realized the moment of truth had arrived. He had evidence of the conspiracy on Isabella’s phone, but he also knew his story would sound completely absurd. A millionaire saved by a six-year-old homeless girl who managed to uncover a murder plot.