Chapter 11 - The bargain
Margaret entered the central processing floor alone.
Her security team stayed behind.
Smart.
A powerful executive knows witnesses matter.
She wore a cream coat.
Perfect hair.
No visible panic.
Exactly the woman from magazine covers.
I watched from behind a steel partition.
“Rachel.”
Her voice softened.
“You look like Laura.”
I hated her instantly for saying my mother’s name like family.
“You ordered Derek to hurt me.”
“I ordered him to frighten you.”
“That distinction matters only to people who outsource cruelty.”
Her face tightened.
Good.
Nicole remained beside me.
Margaret looked at her.
“You always were dramatic.”
Nicole laughed.
“You kept me locked in a room.”
“I kept you alive.”
“There it is again. Margaret’s version of mercy.”
Margaret turned toward me.
“Your mother stole proprietary information.”
“My mother exposed crimes.”
“She stole documents containing national-security-sensitive contracts.”
“Then why not call authorities?”
Silence.
Because authorities might see what else was inside.
I continued.
“You wanted the drive.”
“Yes.”
Finally.
No theater.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Margaret studied me.
Then looked at my stomach.
I moved protectively.
She noticed.
“I would never hurt a child.”
Nicole actually laughed.
Margaret’s eyes hardened.
“Your mother has spent ten years teaching you to see monsters everywhere.”
“My mother spent ten years letting me think she was dead.”
That landed.
Margaret stepped closer.
“Exactly.”
She wanted me angry at Laura.
Division.
Classic.
Then Margaret offered a deal.
Walk away.
New identity if necessary.
Money.
Protection.
Derek prosecuted through private evidence.
Nicole left behind.
My mother forgotten.
“No.”
“You haven’t heard the amount.”
“I don’t care.”
“Everyone cares.”
“That may be why you’re losing.”
Her smile disappeared.
Then she said something unexpected.
“I’m not the person your mother should fear most.”
“Who is?”
Margaret looked toward the dark factory entrance.
“My son.”
Nicole froze.
“Your what?”
Margaret had a son.
Nobody publicly knew.
Born before her rise at Carroway.
Raised under his father’s surname.
Worked quietly inside security operations.
My stomach tightened.
“What’s his name?”
Margaret stared at me.
“Derek.”
The world stopped.
My boyfriend.
My abuser.
The father of my unborn child.
May you like
Was Margaret Cole’s son.
And suddenly our entire relationship looked like an assignment that had gone much deeper than surveillance.
