Chapter 8
Two weeks before the trial, Margaret’s lawyer called.
He wanted to meet.
Said he had a plea deal we’d be stupid to refuse.
Liam and I met him at the DA’s office.
The lawyer was a slick guy in a $5,000 suit, all smiles and handshakes.
He laid the deal out on the table.
“Margaret will plead guilty to embezzlement and conspiracy,” he said.
“10 years in prison, with time off for good behavior. She’ll serve 5, max. She’ll sign over all rights to the estate, leave the country when she gets out, never contact either of you again. Jason will plead guilty to assault, serve 3 years. In exchange, you drop the attempted murder and murder charges. No trial. No drama. It’s over.”
Liam laughed.
A cold, hard sound.
“Are you kidding me?” he said.
“They tried to kill my wife and my baby. They killed my dad. And you want us to let them out in 5 years? To go live in some tropical island with the money they stole?”
The lawyer’s smile didn’t falter.
“Think about it, Mr. Carter,” he said.
“A trial will be messy. All the dirty laundry of your family aired in public for months. Your wife will have to testify. Relive every second of being poisoned. Is that really what you want to put her through? What about the baby? She’ll be born in the middle of all this.”
He leaned forward.
“Take the deal. Walk away. Be done with it.”
Liam looked at me.
He didn’t say anything.
He just waited for me to decide.
I stood up.
I leaned over the table, looking the lawyer right in the eye.
“Tell Margaret no,” I said.
My voice was steady.
Stronger than I’d ever heard it.
“Tell her we’re going to trial. Tell her she’s going to spend the rest of her life in prison for what she did to my husband’s father. For what she did to me. For what she almost did to my daughter. There is no deal. There is no walking away. Justice will be served.”
The lawyer’s smile dropped.
He stood up, gathered his papers.
“You’ll regret this,” he said.
“Margaret has friends. She has resources. This won’t end the way you think.”
He left.
The DA looked at me, impressed.
“Good for you,” she said.
“He was bluffing. They have no cards left to play. The trial starts in two weeks. We’re ready.”
That night, we got a letter at the house.
No return address.
Liam opened it, his face going white.
He handed it to me.
It was from Margaret.
Written in her neat, slanted handwriting.
You think you’ve won?
You think a court can stop me?
If I go down, I’m taking you with me.
That little girl you’re so excited about?
She’ll never see her first birthday.
I’ll make sure of it.
I dropped the letter like it was on fire.
My hands were shaking.
Liam pulled me into his arms, holding me tight.
“I’m calling the police,” he said.
“And the judge. We’ll get a permanent restraining order. No contact, ever. She’ll be in a maximum-security prison, 23 hours a day. She can’t hurt you. She can’t hurt the baby. I won’t let her.”
The judge granted the restraining order two days later.
The prison put Margaret on suicide watch, and on a no-contact list.
She couldn’t send letters, make calls, or have visitors except her lawyer.
The guards were told to watch her 24/7.
The night before the trial started, I lay in bed, Liam’s hand on my stomach.
The baby was kicking hard, like she knew something big was happening.
“Are you ready?” Liam whispered.
“To tell everyone what she did to you?”
I nodded.
I laced my fingers through his.
May you like
“I’m ready,” I said.
“I’m not scared anymore. Not of her. Not of anything.”
