Chapter 4 - THE POISON IN HER BEDROOM
Clara swung the candlestick.
Daniel ducked.
It struck the wall.
He grabbed her wrist.
“Stop!”
“Get away from me!”
Daniel twisted her arm.
Clara cried out.
Then drove her knee into him.
Daniel stumbled backward.
She ran for the door.
He caught her dress.
Fabric tore.
Clara grabbed the bedside lamp and hurled it.
Daniel covered his face.
The lamp shattered.
Clara unlocked the door.
She ran into the hallway.
“HELP!”
Guests below looked up.
Daniel appeared behind her.
“Clara!”
She screamed louder.
“Don't touch me!”
The police officer rushed upstairs.
Daniel stopped instantly.
Clara pointed at him.
“He attacked me.”
Daniel stared in disbelief.
“She attacked me.”
The officer looked at the broken lamp.
Then at the bruise forming around Clara's wrist.
“Mr. Bennett, step away from your wife.”
Eleanor appeared.
“This is absurd.”
The officer raised a hand.
“Mrs. Bennett, please.”
Eleanor's face tightened.
Clara looked directly at her.
“And I want the bottle beside my bed tested.”
Eleanor froze.
Only for half a second.
But Clara saw it.
Daniel saw it too.
The police officer entered the bedroom.
He picked up the small brown bottle.
“What is this?”
“My pregnancy tonic.”
Clara stared at Eleanor.
“I believe someone has been poisoning it.”
The room went silent.
Eleanor laughed.
“This has become ridiculous.”
“Then the test will prove me wrong.”
The officer bagged the bottle.
Daniel looked furious.
Eleanor looked worse.
For the first time, Clara knew she had frightened them.
That evening, police asked Daniel to remain at the estate.
They did not arrest him.
There was no physical proof of what happened at the cliff.
Not yet.
Clara knew accusations weren't enough.
She needed evidence.
At midnight, she climbed out of her bedroom window.
She moved across the terrace.
Then descended an old servants' staircase.
Margaret was waiting near the chapel.
Her arm had been placed in a makeshift sling.
“You shouldn't be here.”
Clara hugged her.
“Neither should you.”
Margaret smiled.
“Yet here we are.”
They entered the abandoned chapel.
Dust covered the pews.
Margaret pointed toward the altar.
“Third floorboard.”
Clara knelt.
She lifted it.
Beneath was a metal box.
“Key.”
Clara froze.
She touched her neck.
Nothing.
Her pockets.
Nothing.
Then she remembered the cabin.
“I lost it.”
Margaret's face fell.
“Victor.”
“Probably.”
Clara grabbed a fireplace poker.
She forced it beneath the box lid.
Metal groaned.
Again.
Again.
The lock snapped.
Inside were documents.
Letters.
Photographs.
A sealed envelope.
And a small leather journal.
Clara picked up the will.
Thomas Bennett's signature was at the bottom.
Margaret had told the truth.
Clara read quickly.
Then stopped.
“What is this?”
Margaret looked over her shoulder.
Clara pointed at a paragraph.
“This doesn't say Daniel inherits when he has a child.”
Margaret became pale.
“What?”
“It says…”
Clara read again.
“The first legitimate grandchild of Thomas Bennett inherits controlling ownership of Bennett Holdings at birth.”
Margaret stared.
Clara looked down at her stomach.
“My baby.”
“Yes.”
“Daniel doesn't inherit.”
“No.”
“My baby does.”
A floorboard creaked behind them.
They turned.
Eleanor stood at the chapel entrance.
Victor was beside her.
He held a pistol.
Eleanor smiled.
“Thank you.”
Clara grabbed the documents.
Eleanor extended her hand.
“I've spent twelve years looking for that box.”
Margaret stepped in front of Clara.
“You murdered Thomas.”
Eleanor shrugged.
“Thomas was weak.”
“You poisoned him.”
“He planned to destroy his own family over money.”
Clara stared at her.
“You mean your money.”
Eleanor's smile disappeared.
“Give me the will.”
“No.”
Victor raised the gun.
Eleanor sighed.
“Clara, you're pregnant.”
“You didn't care about that yesterday.”
“Yesterday I needed you dead.”
“And tonight?”
“Tonight I only need the document.”
Clara held the will behind her.
Eleanor approached.
“You don't understand what you're holding.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“No.”
Eleanor glanced at Margaret.
“She hasn't told you everything.”
Margaret stiffened.
Clara looked at her.
“What haven't you told me?”
Eleanor smiled again.
“Ask her why Thomas trusted her enough to hide his will.”
Clara frowned.
“Margaret?”
The old maid said nothing.
Eleanor continued.
“Ask her who Daniel's real mother was.”
Daniel's real mother?
Clara stared at Margaret.
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
Eleanor laughed softly.
“Go on.”
Margaret finally whispered.
“Daniel isn't Eleanor's son.”
Clara felt the world tilt.
Eleanor's smile vanished.
Margaret continued.
May you like
“He never was.”
And before Clara could ask whose son he really was, Victor pulled the hammer back on his pistol.
