Chapter 6 - The Velvet Trap
The evening shadows lengthened across the linoleum floor, painting long, bars of gray across my bedsheets. At exactly 7:15 PM, the heavy oak door swung open with a soft, practiced click.
Margaret entered alone. She had changed out of her daytime emerald dress into a sleek, charcoal-gray wool coat that smelled faintly of expensive autumn rain. She locked the door behind her with a single, deliberate turn of the deadbolt—a sound that echoed in the quiet room like a gavel falling in a courtroom.
"The nurses are occupied on the third floor for shift change," Margaret announced softly, walking toward the bed with the measured, predatory gait of a cat stalking a wounded bird. "And Ethan is tied up with corporate restructuring meetings downtown. We have thirty uninterrupted minutes, Clara."
I stared up at her, keeping my breathing shallow and my expression deliberately blank, mimicking the helpless invalid she expected to see.
Margaret stopped beside the bed, looking down at my immobilized form with an undisguised sneer. She reached out, her gloved fingers resting lightly on the metal frame of my headboard.
"You’ve been talking to that detective, haven't you?" she asked, her voice dropping into a silky, dangerous cadence. "Mason thinks he’s clever. He’s been asking questions about Emily. About the insurance payout. About the balcony railing."
My heart pounded against my ribs, but I forced my voice to remain raspy and weak. "Emily... didn't fall... did she, Margaret?"
Margaret chuckled—a dry, chilling sound devoid of any humor. "Emily was just like you, Clara. Emotional, ungrateful, and entirely unsuited for the Morgan name. When she threatened to divorce Ethan and take half the estate, she made a terrible mistake. Just like you did when you looked through his phone."
She leaned closer, her breath hot against my cheek. "Ethan is destined for greatness. He cannot be weighed down by fragile little women who don't know their place. When I pushed you from that balcony, I felt a distinct sense of déjà vu. It was remarkably easy. Just a quick shove to the side where the railing meets the brick, and gravity does the rest."
Beneath the heavy plaster cast, my right thumb hovered over the tiny, concealed emergency switch. Keep her talking, Mason had said. Make sure she says enough.
May you like
"You... and Ethan... you're both murderers," I whispered, injecting just enough defiance into my tone to egg her on.
Margaret’s eyes flashed with sudden, blinding fury. She reached down, grabbed a standard hospital bed pillow from the spare chair, and pressed it firmly over my face.
