Chapter 127: Suspecting Her Own Son

As night fell, John, who was hiding alone in his room, appeared to be reading a book by the bedside, but in reality, his mind had already begun to wander.

Directly across from his room, his mother was lying in her room as usual. John had no idea what she was doing or whether she had drunk the water he had given her. However, according to her usual habit, she would drink a glass of water before going to sleep, which not only ensured a comfortable sleep but also kept her body well-hydrated.

The water he had given her over the past few days had all been consumed without any suspicion.

John had reason to believe that tonight would be no different. His mother would drink the entire glass of water he had laced with hallucinogens, fall into a deep sleep, and remain unaware of what he would do during the night.

Although John felt extremely guilty and regretful after each incident, once it came to the moment of decision, he seemed to forget everything. The past events drifted by like smoke before his eyes. He would still drug her, after all, his mother was so enchanting!

With this thought in mind, John kept track of the time. It was almost nine-thirty in the evening. He put the book he was holding aside, lifted the quilt, and quietly got out of bed. He gently opened the door but did not immediately push open his mother's bedroom door.

Although this was the third time he had done this, John was still very cautious. When he stepped out of his room, he first turned his head to check the living room next door. He made sure that the water glass on the coffee table was completely empty before he felt relieved and approached his mother's bedroom door.

At that very moment, or rather, the second John opened his door, Grace, who was lying in the room opposite, tensed up. Her eyes, which had been gradually closing, suddenly snapped open, gleaming with an inexplicable luster and spirit.

Clearly, Grace, who had poured out the water, was not asleep. In fact, she had been lying in bed pretending to sleep ever since she entered her room, much like John's own wandering thoughts.

While John was preoccupied with Grace, Grace was also keeping an eye on him.

The moment John opened his door, the light from his room spilled out through the crack in the door, landing right on Grace's bedroom door. The bright light, coupled with the sound of the door opening and closing, clearly indicated that her son, who had been studying in his room, had come out.

The instant she saw the light, Grace's closed eyes flew open. She lay on her side, her gaze fixed unblinkingly on her bedroom door.

Lying alone in her room, Grace's mind kept replaying the doctor's words from that morning, like a movie. The doctor had suspected that she might have taken an overdose of medication, which essentially meant that she might have been drugged.

Of course, this was Grace's own speculation. After all, she had never taken any medication, let alone antiallergic drugs. She had never taken them even once, so how could she have dizziness and somnolence?

Moreover, every time she woke up, she couldn't remember anything from the previous night, which was truly strange!

With this thought in mind, Grace had once suspected that she might have been drugged.

But when she thought about it, the only person she had contact with and who had the opportunity to drug her was John, whom she regarded as her own son.

But would John do that? What would he gain from drugging her? Did he have the courage to do it? And... anyone else could potentially harm her, but her own son would never harm her!

After all, he was the one who had risked his life to save her! The one who had protected her without regard for his own safety in front of the criminals!

This bond, this mother-son relationship, how could it possibly lead to harm? Moreover... the boy had no reason to do it. What benefit would he gain from drugging her? He lacked nothing.

To be honest, at first, Grace had not suspected John at all. In fact, when the thought of her son possibly drugging her crossed her mind, she had laughed at herself and wanted to slap herself for even considering it.

But who would have thought that when she saw the bottle of water her son handed to her, her mind replayed, like a movie, the scenes of her son giving her water over the past few days.

One or two times might mean nothing, but when the occurrences were strung together, it no longer seemed so innocent. After all, apart from these few days, her son had never given her water before. It was only recently that he had done so frequently.

And when she thought back, each time he gave her water, his expression was unnatural. He would quickly say a few words, leave the water, and then leave. And every morning when she woke up, the last thing she did before going to sleep was to drink water.

So, after much thought, Grace quietly poured the water down the drain. Then, she lay back in her bedroom and waited quietly.

Throughout the process, Grace kept telling herself that she was being paranoid, that she didn't trust her own son. How could she even consider such a thing about her own son?

This thought, like a storm, assaulted Grace's mind. Belief and disbelief kept swirling in her head.

For a moment, she actually forgot the pain of her husband's infidelity and instead focused all her attention on her son. The subtle influence was so strong that she didn't even realize it herself.

She had originally closed her eyes, intending to clear her mind and sleep, but as soon as she heard the door to her son's room open, she immediately opened her eyes. As her eyes opened, she grabbed the quilt, her eyes fixed on the door where the light was shining.

With her son's footsteps approaching, Grace felt an unprecedented tension. She clutched the quilt tightly with both hands, her ears perked up, and her gaze completely focused on the door not far away.

As the shadow drew near, Grace thought her son John would enter her room, but he suddenly turned and walked towards the living room. Seeing this, the tension in Grace's heart suddenly eased. She let out a sigh of relief, slowly turned over, and lay on her back, staring straight at the ceiling.

At that moment, outside the door, John had wandered around the living room and dining area. After confirming that his mother had drunk the water and gone to sleep, his excited heart gradually returned to normal. He eagerly approached his mother's bedroom door, without knocking, and pushed it open.

This was the third time, so there was no need to knock. At that moment, Grace was still lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, completely unaware that her son was approaching.

By the time she realized it, John had already reached the door. With a click, her bedroom door was pushed open from the outside...