Chapter 8 - What She Tried to Erase —
I started toward the stairs.
Julia caught my arm.
“Don’t go into a room alone with her.”
The security supervisor came with us.
At the top of the staircase, Margaret stood outside Ethan’s study holding a wastebasket.
Behind her, the shredder was still running.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Disposing of private family documents.”
Julia took out her phone.
“I’m documenting what we can see from the hallway. You have notice that financial records related to these transactions must be preserved.”
Margaret smiled without warmth.
“Then stop me.”
Nobody touched her.
That seemed to irritate her more than a fight would have.
Rosa appeared from the back stairs.
“I backed up the household files.”
Margaret turned.
“What?”
“Mr. Whitmore asked me to years ago. Before he passed. Invoices, repairs, account statements. The computer does it every Friday.”
Richard.
Even dead, he was still trying to keep the house from collapsing.
Margaret’s expression changed.
“You had no right.”
“I did what my employer asked.”
“I am your employer.”
Rosa straightened.
“You haven’t paid me in six weeks.”
The hallway went quiet.
Downstairs, dishes clattered into crates.
Margaret looked at Ethan, waiting for him to defend her.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs.
He didn’t move.
Julia asked Rosa to preserve the backup without opening, deleting, or forwarding anything until its ownership and access could be sorted out.
Then we left.
I did not sleep at Briar House.
Ownership didn’t make the rooms feel safe yet.
At the hotel, I lined my shoes beside the bed and stared at the space where Ethan’s would once have been.
For the first time all day, I cried.
Not neatly.
Not bravely.
I cried for the children we hadn’t had, for the woman who kept believing patience would turn into kindness, for seven years spent making myself easier to live with.
At 1:14 a.m., my phone lit up.
An unknown number.
There was a link.
The headline read:
BITTER EX CRASHES PREGNANT BRIDE’S WEDDING CELEBRATION.
Below it was a video of me setting the envelope on the table.
Cut off before Margaret opened it.
A second message followed.
Margaret’s voice, recorded.
May you like
“Let’s see who believes you now.”
—
