Chapter 9 - MARGARET’S VERSION
Margaret agreed to speak only because her attorney believed refusing would look worse.
She sat across from Cole in a gray interview room.
I watched through the glass with Cassandra.
Margaret denied poisoning Richard.
“He had terminal cancer.”
Cole nodded.
“We know.”
“He was taking dozens of medications.”
“We know.”
“I prepared his supplements because his hands shook.”
“Did you know one tested positive for dangerous contamination?”
“No.”
“Did Richard?”
Margaret paused.
“I don’t know.”
Cassandra whispered beside me.
“She’s lying.”
Cole placed the lab report on the table.
“Michael Bennett ordered this test.”
Margaret’s expression flickered.
“You remember Michael?”
“Of course.”
“What did you think of him?”
“He was ambitious.”
“He was an auditor.”
“He enjoyed making problems.”
Cassandra inhaled sharply.
Cole continued.
“Did Preston investigate him?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did you know he had documents showing unauthorized company transfers?”
“No.”
“Did you know your husband planned to report the transfers?”
Margaret looked at him.
“My husband was dying.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Margaret smiled faintly.
“You have a very dramatic theory.”
“I haven’t given you one.”
That smile disappeared.
After the interview, Cassandra confronted her mother in the hallway.
“Did Dad know?”
Margaret turned.
“Go home.”
“Did Dad know what Preston was doing?”
“Your father knew his son was imperfect.”
“Did he know you were helping him?”
Margaret’s face hardened.
“You have no idea what it takes to keep a family business alive.”
Cassandra stared at her.
“You always say family when you mean control.”
Margaret stepped closer.
“Your father would be disgusted by what you’re doing.”
Cassandra’s eyes filled.
Then steadied.
“No.”
She held up the original trust.
“He already knew exactly what you were.”
Margaret looked at the document.
For the first time, something cracked.
Not grief.
Rage.
“You think fifty-one percent makes you him?”
“No.”
Cassandra’s voice remained calm.
“It makes me the person you couldn’t erase.”
Margaret walked away.
Then Cassandra’s phone buzzed.
A message from the Vale Hospitality accounting department.
They had found a payment made seven years earlier.
$250,000.
From a Preston-controlled vendor.
To a private medical consulting company.
May you like
The company no longer existed.
Its director had been Richard Vale’s oncologist.
