Chapter 3 - WHAT MARTHA HAD BEEN TRYING TO TELL THEMMartha remained in the hospital under observation.
David sat beside her bed.
For hours, she didn't speak.
Then her eyes opened.
“David?”
He leaned forward.
“I'm here.”
She looked terrified.
“Emily?”
“She is okay.”
Martha began crying.
“Thank God.”
David took her hand.
“Mom…”
She looked away.
“I know what you think.”
“I thought you were having some kind of breakdown.”
“I was.”
“What?”
Martha swallowed.
“I was terrified.”
David's eyes filled with tears.
“Why didn't you tell me clearly?”
“I tried.”
“I know.”
“I told you.”
“You did.”
“But you didn't listen.”
David lowered his head.
“You're right.”
Martha stared at him.
“I called the bakery.”
“When?”
“Two days ago.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to make sure the cake was safe.”
David looked confused.
“They told me it was.”
“So what happened?”
Martha's hands trembled.
“A delivery truck brought the wrong flour.”
She looked toward him.
“I overheard two employees arguing.”
“What did they say?”
“They said someone had told them not to mention it.”
David's expression hardened.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
Martha looked exhausted.
“I went back the next day.”
She pulled a folded paper from beneath her pillow.
David opened it.
It was a handwritten list.
Supplier.
Delivery number.
Batch code.
Employee names.
Dates.
Everything.
His eyes widened.
“You investigated this yourself?”
Martha nodded.
“I knew you wouldn't believe me.”
David's throat tightened.
“I should have.”
“Yes.”
The word hit him harder than anything else.
Martha wasn't angry.
She was disappointed.
“I spent seventy-five years protecting my family.”
She whispered.
“And yesterday, my own son thought I was hurting it.”
David cried.
“I am sorry.”
Martha reached for his hand.
“I don't blame you.”
“I do.”
She squeezed his fingers.
“Then stop.”
He looked at her.
“Make sure Emily is safe.”
“I will.”
Martha closed her eyes.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“The bakery wasn't the only place that received that flour.”
David froze.
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
She pointed toward the papers.
“That's why I wrote everything down.”
David looked at the batch number.
He called Rachel.
She confirmed the shipment had gone to multiple bakeries.
Some schools.
Several restaurants.
And one major hospital cafeteria.
David stared at the list.
His mother hadn't destroyed a birthday.
She had potentially uncovered a public safety disaster.
Then his phone rang.
It was the bakery manager.
“Mr. Carter?”
“Yes?”
“We found something.”
“What?”
“The delivery records.”
“What about them?”
“The shipment wasn't an accident.”
David's blood ran cold.
“What do you mean?”
May you like
Rachel whispered,
“Someone changed the labels before the flour was delivered.”
Related Stories
