The ballerina knocked over the turkey and shouted: “Don’t eat it! She’s poisoned!”

The female lead – a 26-year-old ballerina – was always looked down upon by her husband’s family because her dancing career “doesn’t make money”.

Before dinner, she suddenly fainted in the living room but when she woke up, she still tried to sit down and eat to create a peaceful family atmosphere.

Just as she brought the turkey to her mouth, her 9-year-old niece suddenly stood up, threw the turkey to the ground, and shouted:
“Don’t eat it! I saw my aunt take the blue pill before dinner!”

Everyone panicked.

### The First Turkey Fell
Greenwich, Connecticut – November 27, 2025

The Georgian house on Round Hill Road was ablaze with Waterford chandeliers. The 14-foot-long dining table was polished walnut, Irish linen, Tiffany silverware, Riedel wine glasses. The scent of a 28-pound turkey roasted in herb butter mingled with the scent of a Diptyque Figuier candle.

Claire Ashford, 26, a former rising star of the American Ballet Theatre, sat at the end of the table – the “outsider” seat, even though she had been married to Alexander Ashford for nearly three years.

Eleanor Ashford, her mother-in-law, 64, a former chairwoman of the Greenwich Charitable Trust, always proudly reminded her daughter-in-law that she was “just a dancing girl” – a profession she said “couldn’t afford to keep a cat.”

Claire wore a pearl-gray silk dress, her hair pulled back in a low ballet bun, a simple pearl necklace around her neck. She smiled little, spoke little. From the moment she entered the house at 3 p.m., she felt dizzy and her legs were shaking, but she still tried. The following week was her debut performance as Odette/Odile in Swan Lake at the Kennedy Center – a performance that would determine whether she would be promoted to principal dancer. She couldn’t let anything get in the way, not even her health.

At exactly 5:47 p.m., while the family was taking a family photo in front of the fireplace, Claire suddenly collapsed. Everyone thought she had low blood sugar. Eleanor just frowned: “She always exaggerates to get attention.”

Claire woke up after 10 minutes, her face pale, saying she was just sleep deprived. She refused to go to the hospital, only asking for a glass of water. Eleanor personally brought it out for her – a clear, odorless, tasteless glass.

Now, at 7:42 p.m., the meal officially began.

Alexander raised his glass: “Thank you all for coming. Especially thank you, Mom, for preparing such a wonderful party.”

Just as Claire brought the first piece of turkey to her mouth, a childish scream rang out.

“DON’T EAT IT! SHE’S POISONED!”

Alexander’s niece, Olivia, 9, a ballerina at Greenwich Dance School, jumped up from her chair and threw the turkey onto the floor with both hands. The heavy thing rolled twice, splattered with sauce on Eleanor’s evening gown.

Olivia screamed, pointing at Claire:

“I saw it! Before dinner, while everyone was in the living room, Auntie went into the bathroom downstairs and took the blue pill from the little bottle! I was standing outside the door and saw it! She’s going to die!”

The whole table fell silent.

Alexander stood up: “Olivia, enough!”

Eleanor paled, clutching her chest: “Oh my God, she’s been watching too much Netflix.”

But Olivia didn’t stop. The child ran to Claire’s leg, sobbing:
“Claire, don’t die! You still have to dance Swan Lake!”

Claire dropped her fork, her hands shaking. She slowly pulled out from her skirt pocket a small, cobalt blue bottle – French label: Méthocarbamol 750mg – a powerful muscle relaxant she had been secretly taking for the past three months to relieve the pain of torn muscles from overtraining.

“It’s not poison,” Claire whispered, her voice so weak it was almost inaudible. “It’s painkillers… I tore my thigh muscles in August… I took it so I could continue training…”

Alexander breathed a sigh of relief, turned to scold the child: “Olivia, you scared everyone to death!”

But Olivia shook her head vigorously:
“No! I saw Grandma put something in Claire’s glass of water at 5:50! She said it was diet sugar but it wasn’t! I saw Grandma take it from the white bottle in her handbag!”

The air froze.

Eleanor laughed – a dry, high-pitched laugh: “Children have terrible imaginations.”

Alexander frowned at his mother: “Mom?”

Eleanor took a step back, her back hitting the wine cabinet. Her smile faded.

Claire suddenly collapsed on the table, her glass of red wine spilling everywhere. She convulsed slightly, white foam coming out of her mouth.

Alexander screamed, hugging his wife. Olivia cried out.

The police and ambulance arrived just 11 minutes later – thanks to a 911 call from the cook who had heard everything from the kitchen.

Greenwich Hospital Emergency Room, 9:14 p.m. that same evening.

Blood test results came back: Cyclobenzaprine – a powerful muscle relaxant – was eight times higher than the allowable dose. If Claire had waited another 20 minutes, she would have fallen into a deep coma, her respiratory muscles would have paralyzed, and she would have died.

In the waiting room, Eleanor sat motionless on a plastic chair, her eyes red. Alexander stood before his mother, his voice trembling:

“Why?”

Eleanor looked up, finally speaking the truth – her voice hoarse from crying:

“Because she’s going to ruin your life. Next week she’s going to be a principal dancer, going on a world tour, you’re going to have to follow her, leaving the company your father built. I can’t let this family fall apart over a pair of dancing shoes.”

She pulled out a white bottle of medicine from her bag – the label had been erased.

“I got it from Mrs. Sullivan’s medicine cabinet – she has chronic back pain. I thought… if she just hurts her feet for a few weeks, she’ll miss the show, then she’ll come home and be a proper wife. I’m not going to kill her… I just want her to stop…”

Alexander backed away as if she’d been slapped in the face.

Olivia stood behind the door, listening. She quietly walked in, placing her tiny pointe shoes on her grandmother’s lap.

“If you do this… you’re killing Claire’s dream.”

Eleanor covered her face, sobbing like a child for the first time.

Claire survived. The surgery

The right thigh muscle was created in nine hours. The doctor said she would never dance a grand jeté perfectly again – but she could still teach ballet, and she could still perform on stage in other roles.

American Ballet Theatre postponed the premiere for a year, reserving the role of Odette/Odile for Claire when she was ready to return – even if it was just for one night.

Eleanor was indicted for “Attempted second-degree manslaughter.” In June 2026, she received a seven-year suspended sentence and 500 hours of community service – at the same ballet school where Olivia was studying.

And the turkey that year was left untouched.

It lay cold in the middle of the walnut floor all night, a reminder that sometimes people poison each other not with drugs, but with the control disguised as love.