“Then I give him more tomorrow,” Margaret replied, calm and cold. “By Monday I’ll be a widow and we’ll be rich.”
She laughed.
That laugh sounded exactly like Sophie had described: horrible, young with cruelty, like something inside Margaret had finally stopped pretending to be human.
In the van, Marcus was listening. Detective Morrison was listening. Police cars were staged down the street.
At dawn, they moved.
I was sitting at the kitchen table when the knock came. Margaret answered the door in her robe, hair messy, face already forming confusion.
“Margaret Whitmore?” Detective Morrison asked.
“Yes,” Margaret said sharply. “What is this?”
“You’re under arrest for attempted murder and conspiracy to commit fraud,” Morrison said. “You have the right to remain silent.”
Margaret’s face flicked toward me. Her eyes widened when she saw me standing, steady, alive.
Shock flashed first. Then fury. Then hatred so pure it looked like it could set the kitchen on fire.
“You,” she spat. “You knew.”
Detective Morrison stepped in, cuffs ready. “Hands behind your back.”
Margaret tried to pull away. “This is insane! He’s lying!”
Then she saw Sophie.
Catherine had brought Sophie over quietly before dawn, and Sophie stood beside me holding my hand, her face pale but determined.
Margaret’s mouth opened. Her eyes narrowed on Sophie like a predator recognizing the weak spot in its plan.
“The brat heard me,” Margaret hissed. “That little brat heard me.”
Something in my chest turned to steel.
“Don’t you dare call her that,” I said, and my voice surprised me with how calm it was. “Sophie saved my life.”
Margaret’s eyes burned into mine. “She ruined everything.”
“No,” I said. “You did.”
They led Margaret out in cuffs while she screamed, not fear but rage, shouting about money and betrayal as if she were the injured party.
An hour later, Dr. Prescott was arrested at his home. The police found what they needed: prescription records, messages between him and Margaret, financial transfers, notes about dosages. His smile vanished quickly when handcuffs replaced his stethoscope.
The evidence was overwhelming: recordings from the hotel, recorded calls from my study, the pills collected and tested, financial records showing Margaret’s cash withdrawals and payments to Prescott, emails discussing my life insurance policy and will.
Three weeks later, the Crown laid charges that made the newspapers flinch.