Page 63 of Willowbrooke
“Daddy was grooming me to be his successor—George didn’t care about anything but himself. But then I found out he was still planning to leave everything to him! And why? Because he’s a man.” Margot paced around the solarium, still wearing her gown from the gala.
“I was stupid to think that George would give me my fairshare outright, looking back, but I was young, and I trusted him. I thought he’d be glad that Daddy got what he deserved. I hadn’t intended to have to take care of Mommy too, but she was too suspicious, and she favored George as well—she was part of the problem. So I had to get her before she could turn me in.
“But then I met Ted, and at the beginning, things were so good. I had money of my own, so I wasn’t worried about George being selfish. I knew Ted would take care of me. And then Christine had to come along and ruin everything.” Margot rounded the bed and took a seat on the end, moving Leo’s limp body to accommodate her.
His fearful eyes continued to follow her every move.
“Your mother and I were best friends for a time. She shared everything with me. We’d have the best time gallivanting around town. Being a housewife and mother bored her to tears. But I got sloppy and shared a little too much with her after one drink too many. I’ll admit, I didn’t think she was smart enough to put the pieces together, but then I found her diary one day, and there it was, on paper, that she was getting ready to go to the police.
“My life would have been ruined. George would have disowned me. Ted would never have forgiven me. I saw her walking near the cliff the next day, and I don’t know what came over me. I just—pushed her.” Margot smiled as if recalling a nice memory, rather than a murder. “It was easier than I’d thought—certainly easier than the others. She wasjust there one minute and gone the next. Simple.” Margot laughed humorlessly.
“Things were good for years after that. I was happy with Ted, until he started cheating on me—keeping things from me. He left the country before I could do anything about it—cut me off financially—made me look like a fool—that bastard.
“George helped me—let me move into the cottage. But being back at Willowbrooke, not having a penny to my name without a man’s signature, just reminded me that my legacy had been stolen from me,” she spat bitterly, getting up again to continue pacing.
“When he got cancer, I thought my prayers had been answered. He’d told me years before he was going to cut you out of the will—wanted you to make your own money. I would be set. I just had to wait him out. But then one night, over drinks, he told me he’d changed his mind and didn’t want to disinherit you. I was going to lose everything for good.
“But I came up with a plan. I thought if I could lure you back here, that George would be reminded why the two of you had fallen out in the first place. You reminded him so much of Christine—but he only wanted her. He never wanted a child—she did. He gave her a baby to keep her happy, and then when she was gone, you were this awful reminder that he’d never get her back. He was never meant to be a father—but he sure liked the idea of having an heir—typical man, wanting his line to be carried on.
“What I hadn’t expected was for you to show up and prove to him how you’d grown—how you’d matured. I didn’t think he’d be impressed with your business—become fond of you, after all those years he kept you at arm’s length. I suppose that was an error—to underestimate your charm and humility. Both of those traits definitely came from your mother. There isn’t a West in existence who was either of those things.
“And when you broke up with Quinn—that poor girl—I think that sealed it. George saw you making decisions for yourself, not for others, and I knew I’d made a mistake bringing you back. My inheritance would be stolen from me again.”
Margot walked to the window, peering out into the darkness, before returning to Leo’s side.
“The nurse wasn’t hard to convince; she had debts. And it was easy to set it up to make William look like a potential suspect. Getting rid of her last week was a bit more challenging; however, I have a far-reaching network of contacts. But George—” Margot shook her head. “That asshole had one last card up his sleeve—he’d never changed the will in the first place like he’d told me. You were always the only person to inherit everything. All my plans—and I was still penniless.
“And speaking of pennies…she was a complication I didn’t see coming.”
I froze at the mention of my name. Having searched thebathroom top to bottom, albeit in the dark, the best weapon I could find was a pair of scissors. It would have to do—the next best thing was a curling iron. I made my way closer to the door, listening more intently, trying to formulate some kind of plan of action for how to disarm Margot.
The bed was on wheels, but no doubt the brakes were engaged. I wouldn’t have time to drag Leo into the bathroom and lock both doors. I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to get a swing at Margot before she got a shot off at me, or worse, Leo.
“At first I was resigned to thinking I might be able to manipulate you into turning everything over to me—you were so broken after losing this man that was a father to you in name only.” She spat the words, as if him having any kind of affection for his father was nothing but a weakness, even though she was guilty of the same crime. “But then you started spending his money without abandon to restore the house like George wanted. At the rate you were going, I wasn’t sure I’d have an inheritance left.
“And Penny—that stupid girl.” Margot shook her head. “Leo, rule number one: you don’t fuck the help—I thought you knew better. And the two of you, thinking you could keep it a secret from me, while you follow her around moon-faced. How convenient for her to lose her housing so she’d have to stay here.” Margot threw her hands in the air.
“You know she’s taking you for a ride, right? It’s always the same with people like her. You thought Quinn wantedyour money? Well at least Quinn comes from a good family, and has funding of her own. She would have been a good match—marriage is like business. You don’t understand that you should find a partner that brings something to the table. What does that girl have? Nothing,” Margot spat.
“I will give her credit for finding Christine’s journal. I should have known to check the library—it was an oversight, but I got it back easily enough. She didn’t want George to know that we were friends—he thought I had a bad influence on her—I imagine that’s why she used that little code for me. Me? A bad influence? She was lucky I took her under my wing.”
“Did you know the pink room was mine growing up?” Margot asked Leo, who was incapable of responding. “There’s a false back to the closet that leads to the green room next door. I did try to scare Penny away. It was too easy to sneak up from the basement and torment her. Of course I didn’t realize I’d be chasing her right into your welcoming arms, dear nephew.” She rolled her eyes. “You could have avoided all this heartbreak if she’d just heeded my warnings. Maybe I should have tried to scare her a bit more seriously.” Margot laughed.
But Margot’s laugh was interrupted by a chirp coming from my phone.
I stared down at the device in horror, and I knew this was my one chance to do something—anything.
I heard Margot stomp toward the door before yankingit open, at which time I seized the opportunity to lunge at Margot, knocking her off her feet. The gun clattered to the ground, landing near Leo in the hospital bed.
My phone skittered across the floor as a result, and as it passed her, she realized with terror that I had been recording her.
We both clambered for the phone. It had all the evidence needed to put her away. Whoever got to the phone first would decide her fate. Unfortunately, it was Margot who reached it. Grabbing it from the ground, she pushed past me and took off running.
Briefly, my eyes met Leo’s. They were wide in terror.
I looked down, the gun catching my attention as its polished metal shone in the light. Without thinking, I picked it up and gave chase, following Margot as she headed for the basement.
Margot thundered down the stairs, well ahead of me. It was pitch-black, and I didn’t have the time or thought to turn on any lights, I just ran on instinct. I knew where she was going—the tunnels. It seemed so obvious now; ofcoursethey led to the cottage.
