Arthur drove up the long, winding driveway. The house loomed ahead. It was dark. Except for the grand foyer. The front doors were wide open. Eleanor was waiting. Arthur stopped the car. He looked at me. “Good luck, Mrs. Theresa.” He whispered. I took a deep breath. I opened the door and stepped out into the cold night air. I walked up the stone steps. I entered the grand foyer.
The marble floors gleamed in the dim light. A massive crystal chandelier hung above. And standing at the top of the grand staircase was Eleanor. She was wearing a black silk gown. She looked elegant. Powerful. Untouchable. “Terry.” She said, spreading her arms. “You look terrible, dear.” I stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Where is he?” I asked. “In the library.” Eleanor said. “He’s resting.” “Come. Let’s get you a drink.”
She turned and walked down the stairs.
She linked her arm through mine.
Her touch felt like ice.
We walked into the library.
It was a massive room lined with leather books.
A fire crackled in the fireplace.
But Ernest wasn’t there.
I looked around.
“Where is my husband?”
I asked.
Eleanor smiled.
She walked over to a mahogany desk.
She poured two glasses of scotch.
“He’s not here, Terry.”
She said.
“Because he’s dead.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“What are you talking about?”
I asked.
“I saw him.”
I said.
“He’s alive.”
Eleanor laughed.
A cold, cruel sound.
“Oh, Terry.”
She sighed.
“You always were so gullible.”
She handed me a glass.
I didn’t take it.
“Ernest has been dead for three months.”
Eleanor said.
“I paid the doctor. I paid the mortician.”
“I swapped the body with a John Doe.”
“I needed you to believe he was dead.”
“Why?”
I asked.
My voice was trembling.
“Because the life insurance doesn’t pay out if it’s a suicide or a disappearance.”
Eleanor said.
“It only pays out for a natural death.”
“We needed the death certificate.”
She took a sip of her drink.
“But the real prize wasn’t the insurance.”
“It was your trust fund.”
She stepped closer to me.
“Your parents left you fifty million dollars, Terry.”
“But it was locked in a trust.”
“If you died, it would pass to your next of kin.”
“To me.”
The pieces finally fell into place.
She didn’t just want Ernest’s money.
She wanted my inheritance.
“So you poisoned him.”
I said.
“To get the death certificate.”
“We tried.”
Eleanor admitted.
“Digitalis is so hard to trace.”
“But the old man was stubborn.”
“He kept fighting it.”
“So we had to accelerate the timeline.”
“We staged the heart attack.”
She smiled.
“It was perfect.”
“Except for you.”
She glared at me.
“You wouldn’t just quietly fade away.”
“You started asking questions.”
“You started digging.”
“So I had to deal with you too.”
She reached into her desk drawer.
She pulled out a small syringe.
It was filled with a clear liquid.
“I was going to wait a few days.”
She said.
“Let the grief drive you mad.”
“But since you’re here…”
She stepped toward me.
“Let’s just finish it.”
PART-8
I backed away.
My back hit the heavy oak door.
It was locked.
I was trapped.
Eleanor advanced.
The needle gleamed in the firelight.
“Why, Eleanor?”
I asked.
My voice was steady.
I needed to keep her talking.
Arthur was listening.
The police were on their way.
I just needed time.
“Why what, Terry?”
Eleanor asked.
“Why do you hate me so much?”
Eleanor stopped.
She looked at me.
Her eyes were full of venom.
“Hate you?”
She whispered.
“I don’t hate you.”
“I despise you.”
She took another step.
“You were always the favorite.”
“Mom and Dad loved you more.”
“They gave you the trust fund.”
“They gave you the beautiful life.”
“And what did I get?”
“Nothing.”
“I had to work for every single penny.”
“I had to scrape and claw and beg.”
“And then you married Ernest.”
Her face twisted in anger.
“He was supposed to be mine.”
“I loved him first, Terry.”
“Before you even met him.”
“He rejected me.”
“He chose you.”
The revelation hit me like a physical blow.
Eleanor had been in love with Ernest.
For decades.
“It wasn’t about the money.”
I whispered.
“It was about him.”
“It’s always about the money!”
Eleanor screamed.
She lunged at me.
I dodged.
The needle sliced through the air.
It tore the fabric of my blouse.
I grabbed a heavy brass candlestick from the table.
I swung it at her.
It connected with her shoulder.
She cried out and dropped the syringe.
It shattered on the floor.
Eleanor stumbled back.
She clutched her shoulder.
Her face was contorted in rage.
“You stupid bitch!”
She yelled.
She pulled a small pistol from her clutch.
She pointed it at me.
“I will kill you.”
She said.
“I will kill you, and I will kill your sons.”
“Charles and Hunter know.”
I said.
I held my ground.
“They know everything.”
“They know you used them.”
Eleanor laughed.
A manic, hysterical sound.
“Those pathetic little boys?”
She sneered.
“They are exactly where I want them.”
“I told them you were going to frame them for the murder.”
“They are going to kill you, Terry.”
“They are waiting outside.”
My blood ran cold.
Was she telling the truth?
Had Charles and Hunter betrayed me again?
No.
I remembered the look in Charles’s eyes.
I remembered his tears.
They were broken.
But they were done taking orders.
“You’re lying.”
I said.
Eleanor cocked the hammer of the gun.
“Am I?”
Suddenly, the grand doors of the library burst open.
Wood splintered.
The lock shattered.
Charles and Hunter stood in the doorway.
They were breathing heavily.
They were holding guns.
Eleanor turned to them.
“Kill her!”
She screamed.
“Kill your mother!”
Charles and Hunter didn’t move.
They looked at Eleanor.
Then they looked at me.
“No.”
Hunter said.
His voice was cold as steel.
Eleanor’s eyes went wide.
“What?”
“We know you’re broke, Eleanor.”
Hunter said.
“We know you played us.”
Charles stepped forward.
His gun was pointed directly at Eleanor.
“And we know you poisoned Dad.”
Eleanor backed away.
She swung the gun toward them.
“You ungrateful little brats!”
She screamed.
“I made you!”
“I gave you purpose!”
“You gave us nothing but debt and lies.”
Hunter said.
He kept his gun steady.
“Drop it, Eleanor.”
Eleanor looked at me.
Then she looked at my sons.
She realized she was surrounded.
She was alone.
Her hand shook.
The gun wavered.
“Eleanor, drop the gun.”
I said softly.
She let out a sob.
A pathetic, broken sound.
The gun slipped from her fingers.
It clattered onto the hardwood floor.
She fell to her knees.
She covered her face.
And she wept.
The great, untouchable Eleanor.
Brought to her knees by her own greed.
Just then, the sound of sirens filled the night air.
Red and blue lights flashed through the windows.
The police had arrived.
