Chapter 307: The plan
Margaret sat alone in the dimly lit room, her once-beautiful features twisted with bitterness as she stared at the faded, ornate mirror in front of her. The reflection that greeted her was almost unrecognizable—haunted eyes, deep lines etched into her face from years of anger and resentment. She traced the lines with a trembling finger, her thoughts spiraling into the past, to the time before everything went so horribly wrong.
There was a time when Margaret had been the center of attention, basking in the wealth and influence that came with being the wife of a powerful man. She had been respected, even feared, in the circles she moved in. People listened when she spoke, they sought her approval, her favor. But all of that had been stripped away, ripped from her grasp by the very person she had once thought she could control—her niece, Abigail.
"That little witch," Margaret muttered under her breath, her voice laced with venom. Abigail had always been a quiet girl, seemingly harmless, but Margaret knew now just how deceiving appearances could be. That girl had played her for a fool, manipulating everyone around her while Margaret had been too blind to see it. And the price she paid for her naivety was high.
It had all started to crumble when Abigail had her committed to that dreadful psychiatric hospital. Margaret shuddered at the memory—the cold, sterile walls, the patronizing doctors who treated her like she was insane. But she wasn’t crazy, she knew that much. She was just angry. Angry that the life she had worked so hard to build was crumbling around her because of a girl she had underestimated.
Her fall from grace had been swift and brutal. Once she had been released from the hospital—thanks to the efforts of her past lover, Dominic—she found herself isolated, her influence gone, her wealth squandered in futile legal battles and Abigail’s ruthless financial maneuvers. The empire that had once belonged to her husband was now firmly in Abigail’s grasp, and Margaret was left with nothing but the clothes on her back and the venom in her heart.
"I should have seen it coming," she whispered to herself, clenching her fists until her knuckles turned white. "I should have crushed her before she ever had the chance to turn on me."
But it was too late for regrets. The damage had been done. And now, all she had left was her hatred, burning bright and fierce, fueling her every waking moment.
A soft knock on the door pulled Margaret from her dark thoughts. She straightened in her chair, her eyes narrowing as Dominic entered the room, his tall, imposing figure casting a shadow over her.
"There you are," he said, his voice smooth as silk, but with an edge that always sent a shiver down Margaret’s spine. He walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, his touch both comforting and possessive. "Still brooding, my love?"
Margaret looked up at him, her bitterness hardening into resolve. "I’m not brooding, Dominic. I’m planning."
He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "Planning, are we? And what might that entail?"
"Abigail," she spat the name like a curse. "She ruined me, took everything from me. She’s going to pay for it."