Chapter 2 - The Ambush in the Lobby

Margaret Bennett sat in the drawing room of her sprawling Gold Coast estate, sipping Earl Grey tea from a porcelain cup. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting warm light over the priceless antiques that filled the room. She looked exactly like what she was: a queen untouched by the suffering of the peasants below her.

The heavy oak doors of the drawing room slammed open with such force that Margaret dropped her teacup, shattering it against the Persian rug.

Lucas walked in. He bypassed the terrified butler and marched directly to the center of the room.

“Lucas! What on earth is the meaning of this?” Margaret demanded, standing up, trying to regain her composure. “Where are your manners?”

“I left them at the hospital, alongside my wife’s poisoned blood,” Lucas said, his voice eerily calm as he unbuttoned his suit jacket.

Margaret adjusted her pearls, lifting her chin in defiance. “I have no idea what you are talking about. If that baker girl of yours is sick, it is simply her weak constitution. I always told you she wasn't built for our world.”

“She’s stronger than you will ever be,” Lucas shot back. He pulled a small digital recorder from his pocket and tossed it onto the glass coffee table.

“What is that?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“That,” Lucas said, “is a full, uncoerced confession from Clara Higgins. The actress Richard hired to play a nurse. She was very cooperative once Marcus explained that she was facing twenty years for attempted murder. She outlined the entire plan, Mother. How you paid her to inject Emma with coagulants. How you wanted to induce a medical crisis so Emma would die, leaving you with the baby—a 'pure' Bennett heir, untainted by Emma's influence.”

Margaret stared at the recorder. For a long moment, the room was completely silent. And then, the matriarch of the Bennett family did something truly chilling.

She laughed.

It wasn't a hysterical laugh. It was a soft, condescending chuckle.

“Oh, Lucas. You always were so dramatic,” Margaret said, walking over to the fireplace. “Yes. I did it. And I would do it again. That girl is a parasite. She doesn't belong in our family. She was going to raise a Bennett heir with the mindset of a poverty-stricken bread-maker. I had to protect our legacy.”

“You tried to murder my wife,” Lucas said, staring at her as if looking at a stranger.

“I was performing a necessary pruning of the family tree,” Margaret countered smoothly. “And what are you going to do about it? Take that recording to the police? The Bennetts own half the police force in this city. A good lawyer will have that confession thrown out as coerced. You can't touch me, Lucas. You never could.”

“You’re right, Mother. The police might be bought,” Lucas said, turning toward the door.

He paused, looking back over his shoulder. “Which is why I didn't go to the police. I went to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. And I went to the Wall Street Journal.”

Margaret froze.