Chapter 8
We stayed at Elaine's house for three days.
I read every one of Marcus's letters.
They were chilling.
At first, they were full of charm and manipulation. He tried to win Elaine back, to convince her he'd changed, that he was a different man.
But as the years went on, the tone changed.
The letters became angrier. More bitter.
And always, always, he talked about Thomas.
*Thomas thinks he won. He got the girl, the house, the land, the respect. But I know the truth. I know what he did. And one day, everyone will know.*
*He's not better than me. He's just better at hiding who he really is.*
*When I get out of here, I'm going to make sure everyone knows the truth about Thomas Hale. And then I'm going to take everything he left behind.*
The last letter, written just a month before his release, was the most disturbing.
*I found out about Linda's daughter. Emily. She's my blood too. Thomas's blood. The perfect combination of everything I hate and everything I want. When I get out, I'm going to find her. And I'm going to use her to get what I deserve.*
I closed the letter, my hands shaking.
"He's been planning this," I said. "For years. He knew about Emily. He knew about the diamonds. He's been waiting for his chance."
Elaine nodded. "He's not going to stop, Margaret. Not until he gets what he wants. Or until someone stops him."
I looked at Emily. She was sitting on the porch, looking out at the ocean. She looked so young, so vulnerable.
And yet she was the strongest person I knew.
"We need to go back," I said. "We can't run forever. And we can't let Marcus win. We have to face him."
Elaine was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, "I'm coming with you."
I looked at her, surprised.
"You don't have to do that."
"Yes, I do," Elaine said. "Marcus is my responsibility too. I let him into our lives once. I'm not going to let him destroy what's left of our family."
She reached across the table and took my hand.
"We're sisters, Margaret. We should have been fighting together all along."
I squeezed her hand. For the first time in forty years, I felt like I had my sister back.
We left the next morning.
The drive back was different. Not just because there were three of us now, but because something had shifted.
I wasn't running anymore.
I was going back to face my past. To fix what was broken. To protect the only family I had left.
When we arrived at the house, something was wrong.
The front door was open.
Emily stopped the car. We all sat there, staring at the open door.
"He's been here," Emily said.
I nodded. "Stay in the car. Both of you. I'll call the police."
But before I could reach for my phone, we saw movement inside the house.
A figure appeared in the doorway.
It wasn't Marcus.
It was David.
My grandson.
He'd been released on bail somehow.
He stood there, holding something in his hand.
A baseball bat.
"Grandma," he called out. His voice was slurred, angry. "I know you're in there. Come out and face me. You ruined my life. You ruined everything."
He was drunk. Or high. Or both.
Emily started to open the door.
"No," I said. "Wait."
But it was too late.
David saw us.
His face twisted with rage.
May you like
He started running toward the car.
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