Chapter 3 - THE CONFRONTATION
Margaret froze. The Pyrex dish in her hands tilted, nearly spilling its contents on the hardwood floor.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Clara. Grief is making you hysterical."
"Is it?" I stepped closer, invading her personal space. "Or is it making me clear-headed? I opened the workshop, Margaret."
All the color drained from her face. Her perfectly manicured hands gripped the glass dish so tightly her knuckles turned white. "You broke his rule."
"His rule to hide his captive second family?" I yelled, the anger finally boiling over. "You knew! You knew he was keeping a woman and a child locked in a shed on my property!"
Margaret’s shocked expression slowly morphed into a cruel, calculating sneer. She set the casserole down on the entry table. "Oh, grow up, Clara. Thomas was a man. You couldn't give him children. Elise was young, dumb, and desperate. He gave her a roof, and she gave him a legacy. It was an arrangement."
"She thinks I'm dead, Margaret! He held her prisoner with fear!"
May you like
"She's a naive idiot," Margaret snapped. "And now that he's gone, they are my problem. The trust is under my name. You are going to sign the deed to this farm over to me by Friday, or I will call the sheriff, tell them you've been keeping hostages in your backyard, and watch you go to prison for kidnapping."
She smiled, a cold, reptilian stretch of her lips. "Checkmate, Clara."
