Chapter 22 - The Rotor Over the Water
Dawn broke over the San Juan Islands not with the gentle, golden promise of previous mornings, but under a heavy, bruised canopy of gray clouds that rolled in from the Pacific. Margaret had not slept. She had spent the remaining hours of the night securing the cottage, checking the perimeter alarms, and transferring all her vital digital assets to a cold storage drive tucked securely against her collarbone. At 5:42 AM, the tranquil silence of the archipelago was brutally shattered by the low, concussive thrum of a helicopter engine. The sound tore through the mist, growing louder and more aggressive until a black commercial floatplane materialized out of the fog, banking sharply before descending toward the private dock belonging to the neighboring estate—a dock currently deserted, but close enough. Margaret stood on the balcony, fully dressed in a tailored charcoal trench coat and sturdy leather boots, her expression carved from granite. As the pontoon skis of the aircraft slapped violently against the choppy gray water, a single figure in a sodden, expensive designer trench coat flung the cabin door open before the engine had even fully wound down. It was Victoria. But she looked nothing like the impeccably styled bride who had screamed obscenities and struck Margaret across the face at the destination wedding a year and a half ago. Her hair was stringy and unwashed, her face gaunt beneath smeared foundation, her eyes wide, wild, and bloodshot with a manic desperation that bordered on feral. She stumbled onto the wooden planks of the dock, slipping once on the wet algae before catching herself with a choked, hysterical sob. She looked up at the cottage, spotting Margaret standing motionless on the balcony like an executioner waiting for dawn. Victoria let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-shriek, her voice carrying easily across the narrow strip of water between them. "Did you really think you could bury me, you old bitch?!" Victoria screamed, waving a fist in the air as the wind whipped her clothes around her skeletal frame. "You ruined my life! You took my wedding, you took my status, you took everything! And now I’m going to take *you*!" Margaret didn't flinch. She slowly raised her phone, tapped a single icon on the screen, and waited.
