Chapter 93
Margaret's POV
"Your home? You're nothing but a mistress who got lucky. Don't confuse temporary tolerance with permanent acceptance."
The slap came before I could stop myself. My palm connected with Laura's cheek with a satisfying crack that echoed through the room. A red handprint bloomed across her pale skin, and for a moment, I felt a surge of vindication.
Emma's scream pierced the air. "Bad woman! You hit Mommy!"
The little brat actually lunged at me, her small fists pounding against my legs. I grabbed her wrist firmly, my patience finally snapping.
"That's enough!" I barked. "Take this child to her room immediately. She needs to learn some manners."
"No!" Emma shrieked, clinging to Laura's dress. "I won't go!"
"In this house, you will do as you're told," I said coldly, nodding to the maid. "Lock the door. She can stay there until she learns to behave properly."
---
"Stop this immediately."
Grandmother Aria's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. I turned to see her standing in the doorway, her silver hair perfectly styled despite her recent hospital stay, her cane tapping against the floor with authority.
Damn it. Of all the times for her to make an appearance.
"Mom," I began.
Aria's eyes flicked between Laura's reddened cheek and my defensive stance. I could see her calculating, processing, judging.
"Margaret," she said quietly, "what exactly is happening here?"
Laura stepped forward, tilting her face so the handprint was clearly visible. "I'm finding it very difficult to stay in this house, Grandma Aria. The hostility is... overwhelming."
Playing the victim. How predictable.
"You struck her," Aria stated flatly, her gaze boring into me.
"She was being disrespectful, taking things that weren't hers—"
"You hit someone in this house. That makes you wrong, regardless of the circumstances." Aria's voice carried the weight of decades of authority. "You will apologize. Now."
My mouth fell open. "Mom, you can't be serious. This woman has been—"
"I don't care what she's done before. But we are family now, and family members treat each other with respect. You will say you're sorry."
The humiliation burned in my throat like acid. Laura stood there with that smug little smile, Emma clutching her hand, both of them waiting for my submission.
"For Emma's sake," Laura said sweetly, "perhaps you should set an example. When someone does wrong, they should acknowledge it. Don't you think?"
I'm going to destroy this bitch.
But with Aria watching, I had no choice.
"I'm sorry, Laura," I forced out through gritted teeth. "You win."
---
Laura's smile widened as she took Emma's hand. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's give the grown-ups some space to talk."
They walked out together, Emma shooting me one last defiant glare over her shoulder. The moment they were gone, I whirled on Aria.
"Mom, you're killing me! Do you understand that? I have no authority left in this house! No respect!"
"Lower your voice," Aria said calmly, settling into her favorite armchair. "Sit down. We need to discuss this situation."
I collapsed onto the sofa, my hands shaking with suppressed rage. "She's taking over everything. The staff listen to her, and Richard—"
"There's nothing we can do," Aria interrupted. "She has leverage that can threaten us."
"So I'm supposed to just accept this? Let this bitch live here so brazenly?"
"You should endure it. For a few more months." Aria's eyes glittered with something I couldn't quite read. "If the company goes public successfully, arrangements will be made for Laura to... return to her and Richard's residence."
A few months. I could survive a few months if it meant getting rid of her permanently.
---
Alone in my room that evening, I swept my arm across the tea service, sending delicate porcelain crashing to the floor. The sound was satisfying, but it did nothing to ease the burning resentment in my chest.
Grace would never have let this happen.
The thought came unbidden, and I hated myself for it. But it was true. Grace had always been able to sense my moods, to anticipate my needs. She would prepare coffee for me without being asked, adjust the temperature when I seemed uncomfortable, find ways to make me happy even when I was determined to be miserable.
Grace had made this house feel like a home. Now it felt like a battlefield.
I pressed my hands to my temples, trying to push away memories of Grace. She'd been the daughter-in-law I'd never appreciated until she was gone.
And now we had Laura instead. Laura with her calculating smiles and her bratty daughter and her complete lack of respect for anyone but herself.
How did everything go so wrong?
---
By evening, the stress had taken its toll. My chest felt tight, my breathing shallow, and a sharp pain kept shooting down my left arm. When I tried to stand from my dressing table, the room spun violently.
"Help," I gasped, but my voice came out as barely a whisper.
The maid found me collapsed on the carpet twenty minutes later.
The doctor arrived within the hour, his expression grave as he checked my pulse and blood pressure. "Mild myocarditis," he announced. "Brought on by extreme stress and emotional trauma. You need complete rest."
Richard appeared in the doorway, his face pale with concern. When he saw me lying there, weak and fragile, something shifted in his expression.
"Mom?" His voice cracked slightly. "Are you okay?"
Tears I'd been holding back for days finally spilled over. "Raising children... it's never easy. But I suppose I deserve this. I've failed as a mother, haven't I?"
"No," Richard said quickly, sitting on the edge of my bed and taking my hand. "No, Mom. You haven't failed. Tell me what you need. Anything."
I looked into his eyes—my son's eyes—and saw the little boy who used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms. The boy who'd promised to always take care of me.
"I need you to divorce Laura."
The words hung in the air between us like a challenge. Richard's face went through a dozen emotions—shock, anger, guilt, resignation.
"Mom..."