“Your daughter isn’t sick, sir.”
Gregory froze completely as the words sank in.
“And she’s not going blind,” the boy continued, his gaze steady and unwavering, “someone is taking her sight away from her.”
A cold sensation spread through Gregory’s body as his mind struggled to process what he was hearing. “What are you talking about?” he asked sharply, unable to hide the tension in his voice.
The boy did not hesitate or look uncertain, and his next words landed even harder. “It’s your wife,” he said quietly.
Silence settled heavily between them, and the sounds of the park seemed to disappear.
Gregory felt his heart pounding violently in his chest as he stared at the boy. “Explain that,” he demanded, his voice lower now but filled with urgency.
“She puts something in the girl’s food every single day,” the boy said calmly, as if he was stating something obvious.
Anger rose quickly inside Gregory, but it could not push away the memories that suddenly surfaced. He remembered the timing of Daisy’s symptoms and how they often worsened after meals, and he thought about how his wife, Amanda Fletcher, always insisted on preparing Daisy’s food herself.