Chapter 10 - The Dead Woman
Finding Margaret required doing something Gregory would never expect.
Nothing.
I did not search.
I did not ask crew members.
I simply waited.
At 2:14 a.m., someone knocked on my hidden cabin door.
Three quiet taps.
Pause.
Two more.
Elena had arranged that signal.
I opened it.
Margaret Hartman stood outside.
She was sixty-three.
Elegant.
Thin.
Terrified.
“May I come in?”
I stepped aside.
She entered and immediately checked the bathroom, balcony, and closet.
Someone who had spent years afraid never entered a room without checking exits.
I understood that instinct.
“You’re Ashlynn.”
“Yes.”
Margaret looked at me for a long moment.
“You remind me of who I was before Howard.”
We sat.
“Why are you here?”
“To stop my son.”
“Gregory?”
“Both of them.”
Her eyes filled with pain.
“Howard taught Gregory that love and ownership were the same thing.”
“You knew about Claire.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you help her?”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
“Howard found out.”
Margaret pulled back her sleeve.
A faded surgical scar ran along her wrist.
“They had me declared incompetent.”
I said nothing.
“For eleven years, Howard controlled my money, communication, travel, and medical decisions.”
“The Margaret Foundation.”
Her eyes widened.
“You found it.”
“It’s a trust.”
“It contains everything I owned before marrying Howard.”
“How much?”
“Enough that Howard could never afford to let me regain control.”
That explained something.
Money.
Not just abuse.
Control had a financial reward.
Margaret continued.
“I escaped two years ago with help from Dr. Samuel Voss.”
“Claire’s letter mentioned him.”
“He hid me.”
“Why come back?”
“Because Gregory contacted Howard six weeks ago.”
The fake medical report.
Margaret nodded.
“They were planning to do to you what they did to me.”
“Why me?”
She looked down.
“Your employer.”
I frowned.
“What about it?”
“You work in corporate acquisition analysis.”
“Yes.”
“Your company is reviewing Hartman Maritime.”
My stomach tightened.
The confidential project.
I had never told Gregory details.
“You think he married me for access?”
“I think that was why Howard chose you.”
I felt sick.
“Chose?”
Margaret reached into her coat.
She handed me a photograph.
Gregory at a restaurant.
Howard beside him.
Across the table sat my former supervisor.
The photograph had been taken nine months before Gregory and I supposedly met by chance.
Margaret whispered.
“Your marriage was arranged before you knew you were being courted.”
Then footsteps stopped outside my cabin.
Margaret’s face drained of color.
A man’s voice came through the door.
“Mother.”
May you like
Gregory had found us.
---
