Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO PACKED MY SCHOOL LUNCHES WAS PART OF IT
Margaret knew everything.
My allergies.
My class schedule.
Which boyfriend broke my heart at nineteen.
How my mother took her coffee.
She was the person I called when my father forgot birthdays.
Now her credentials sat inside a conspiracy involving hundreds of millions of dollars.
I did not want to believe it.
So I did something new.
I did not decide before evidence.
Margaret agreed to meet.
Neutral location.
A church courtyard in Midtown.
No weapons visible.
Nico stayed across the street.
He hated that.
I enjoyed it.
Margaret arrived wearing a beige coat.
She looked exactly like herself.
That was the cruel part about betrayal.
Villains rarely dress appropriately.
“Evie.”
“Don’t call me that.”
She stopped.
“You know.”
“I know your credentials were used.”
Her shoulders dropped.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked toward Nico’s car.
“Because I let them.”
My throat tightened.
“Andrew?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Fourteen years.”
My stomach turned.
Before my mother died.
“Why?”
Margaret started crying.
“Your father had an affair with me.”
I stared.
No.
Not that.
Anything but something so ordinary.
“How long?”
“Two years.”
“Did Mom know?”
“Yes.”
Of course.
My mother had lived inside secrets from every direction.
Margaret continued.
“When James ended it, Andrew found out.”
“He blackmailed you?”
“At first.”
“With what?”
“The affair. Then company files I had already given him.”
“Why did you give him anything?”
“He said he was trying to protect your father from a hostile takeover.”
Lie layered on guilt.
Classic.
Margaret helped him access executive systems.
Then she tried to stop.
He threatened me.
Then threatened you.
I believed that part.
“What did he do to Mom?”
Margaret’s face collapsed.
“He canceled the trial.”
“You knew?”
“After.”
“And said nothing.”
“Yes.”
I walked away three steps.
Nico began crossing the street.
I raised one hand.
Not yet.
“Why are you telling me now?”
“Because Andrew is planning something for your birthday.”
“My birthday is four months away.”
“No.”
Margaret shook her head.
“Saturday.”
“This Saturday?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“He moved the timetable because you married Nico.”
My pulse jumped.
“Moved what?”
“The transfer.”
My trust.
The forty-two percent.
But I was not twenty-five.
“How?”
Margaret looked ashamed.
“Your birthday in the trust isn’t your twenty-fifth.”
“What?”
“It’s tied to another date.”
I stopped breathing.
“What date?”
“Your mother’s death anniversary.”
That was in six days.
My father had lied about when my shares vested.
Why?
Margaret answered.
“Because your mother changed the trust before she died.”
“What did she change?”
“She gave you control at twenty-four years, eight months, three days.”
“Why that exact date?”
Margaret looked toward me.
“Because it’s the day she expected Andrew to move.”
My mother had predicted the attack nine years ago.
Then Margaret handed me a flash drive.
“Everything I saved.”
I took it.
“Why help now?”
“Because I loved you even while I was failing you.”
I hated that answer because it could be true.
Then a shot cracked.
Margaret fell.
Nico crossed the street running.
Chaos exploded.
I dropped beside her.
Blood across her coat.
She gripped my wrist.
“Not Andrew.”
“What?”
Her breathing broke.
“He’s not the one giving orders.”
“Who?”
She looked toward Nico.
Then whispered:
“His mother.”
Nico’s mother had been dead for six years.
May you like
And yet Margaret died with one final sentence:
“Lucia Caruso is alive.”
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