CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

In a way, this is almost funny. I've spent much of the past few weeks suspecting that Cecilia might be involved. Of all the suspects I've considered, she's been the most enduring.

But every time, I've found a way to convince myself that I'm wrong, and it couldn't possibly be her. Now she's pointing a handgun at my chest, and the cold irritation in her tone and body language tells me that a portion of the metal she holds will be lodged comfortably behind my ribcage in a few minutes.

Well, stupid is as stupid does, and I've been stupid as hell.

"Why?" Cecilia asks. "Seriously. Why the hell is my life any of your business?" When I don't answer, her eyes narrow, and she says, "I'm actually looking for an answer. Why did you have to stick your old, witchy nose into my life?"

A strange calm settles over me. Perhaps knowing that I'm about to die gives me courage. Either way, I feel bold enough to say, "Your children deserve to know what happened to their father."

"Oh, for God's sake. They're kids. They're going to bounce back from this. They'll bounce back from fucking anything. Sammy's eight, he'll barely even remember Johnathan. The older two would have mourned him and then gotten over it. You're the reason they started caring."

"They always cared. He was their father."

"Yeah, they cared that he was dead, they didn't care about why! You put that thought in their heads!"

"No, they came to me."

I regret saying that the instant the words leave my mouth. Cecilia frowns, and her eyes narrow. "What?"

"I just mean that they reached out to me for help."

"So help them! Hold them! Cry with them. Talk to them. Read them fucking bedtime stories. Don't go digging around like you're Miss Marple trying to figure out whodunit?"

Hearing her use the word causes a bubble of laughter to rise in my throat, but I stifle it and continue to watch her warily. "I couldn't do that. It's not fair to Johnathan."

"Oh," she chuckles and nods. "Right. Not fair to Johnathan. Well, he's what matters, right? He's the great Johnathan Ashford, and the world begs for the chance to fall down and worship him.

"Let me tell you a little bit about Johnathan Ashford. Johnathan Ashford was a moody, petulant, irritable, spoiled child who treated his wife like property and his kids like irritants."

"The children didn't seem to think so."

"The children are children , Mary. For God's sake. You think Elijah's worldly wise enough to understand that his father was hard on him because he didn't feel a need to be engaged in his life and not because he was teaching Elijah to ‘be a man?' You ever think that maybe Isabella liked talking to her dad because she's thirteen and wants everything she says to be validated? I guarantee you that half the time, Johnathan didn't even hear what she said. And Samuel? He's eight years old. What the hell could he possibly know?"

"He can know that his father is dead."

"But he can't know that he's better off without him."

"That's not your call to make."

"Yes it is!" she hisses. "Yes. It is! Those are my children!"

"Johnathan's children too."

She fires the weapon, and I shriek and drop to the ground. Behind me, glass shatters, but I don't turn around to see what she's shot.

" My children," she says. Tears are streaming down her face now. "I carried then. I nursed them. I changed their diapers. I taught them how to walk. I taught them how to talk. I dressed them for school. Half the time, I made their meals too because the wonderful Michelin Star chef Johnathan got me as a wedding present can't be bothered to do his fucking job half the time.

"When they got hurt, I put the bandaids on. When they were afraid, I held them at night and sang them to sleep. When they needed help with their homework, I took crash courses online so I could remember how to do long division. I took care of them, not Johnathan, but do I get credit for that? No. They only see him. Their absentee, aloof, irritable, moody bastard of a father."

"They love you too, Cecilia."

"It's not just them!" she says. "Damn it, I matter too!"

Tears well in her eyes, and the gun trembles. I take a few hesitant steps forward, and she lifts the gun. I stop and say, "Of course you do."

"Don't patronize me! I just… God, I hate it! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! I hate it!"

She's shrieking by the end, pumping the gun up and down with the force of her emotion. I need to move quickly. She's working herself into a frenzy, and if she gets all the way there, she'll kill me.

"I just wanted my own life! One that wasn't dependent on Johnathan! One where I could make my own choices and not have to worry about how it affected my royalty husband."

"Why didn't you leave him?"

The question is designed to keep her talking, but I am genuinely curious to hear her answer.

"And go where? You see how the kids worshipped him. They're the only good things he gave me, and…" her lip trembled. "Why didn't they love me?"

"They do love you. The happiest I've seen Isabella and Samuel is when you were playing with them in the snow. It's the first time I thought that Isabella might recover from Johnathan's loss. As for Elijah, he'll come around. You know that Richard's a child now, so he won't be around anymore."

She chuckles. "Got that right. The last thing I need is some dickweed who never left college thinking that because I let him screw me, I'm going to jump into his arms and let myself get carried off to become someone's wife again."

I start walking toward her again, talking so she doesn't focus on my movement. "You can have the life you want! Everything I did, Cecilia, I did for those children. I worried that their father's killer might kill them."

"I would never . They're my life."

"I know that now. So your secret is safe with me."

Her eyes narrow, and she looks at me. I stand still, and she says, "You're just trying to convince me not to kill you."

No point in trying to lie about that. "Well, yes. I'd really appreciate not getting shot in the chest."

She laughs, and I join her. When she shakes her head and lowers the gun, I resume my steady approach. "Yeah, that makes sense." She lifts the gun again, and I swear inwardly but stop once more. I'm about four yards from her. If I can close to within two, I might be able to rush her and take the gun. She's younger than me, but I'm taller and heavier. I can use that to my advantage.

"I got the poison from Simon," she said. "I didn't tell him what I was going to use it for, but I can't imagine he's stupid enough not to know." I think back to my interactions with the crooked pharmacist, and I have to agree. "I put it in his after-sex coffee." She chuckles. "He always had to have coffee after sex. It was his ‘thing.' Fuck if I know why, but after he finished, I had to waddle my little ass downstairs and make him a cup of dark roast. It had to be dark roast, and it had to be out of the French press. The last two years, I didn't even bother getting dressed to go make it. I kept hoping one of the kids would walk in and ask why I was naked in the kitchen making coffee at eleven at night so I could tell them that their father couldn't bang Mommy without drinking coffee after."

She laughs, an unhinged, brittle sound. She's past the point of no return. I need to move now.

"You don't need to tell me this," I say soothingly, hoping once more that she'll focus on my words and not my approach. "It's over now. You've gotten rid of him. You can move on and have your life again."

"I know," she says. "But I can't tell anyone about this. Obviously, I can't tell Richard."

That brings me up short. "You can't?"

"Of course not. He thinks Elena killed Johnathan."

I blink in surprise. "What?"

She grins at me. "You're wondering why he changed the cause of death. Well, I asked him to. I told him the kids couldn't handle knowing that their father was murdered. I told him that Elena would never get close enough to us to hurt us and that I would be letting go of my stake in the company anyway. I meant that part, too. I just want Elena to sweat a little. Johnathan was right about that. It's fun watching her throw tantrums."

My head spins again. "So Richard thought that…"

"I told him that Johnathan was having an affair with Elena. Sorry to ruin your picture-perfect image of him, but he did have an affair with her. I caught her on top of him, and unless there's a family friendly reason to be naked and straddling a man, they were definitely having sex. Granted, that was twelve years ago, and I'm pretty sure all the canoodling stopped when she tried to steal the company from him.

"Anyway, the point is, I told Richard that Elena poisoned him when he wouldn't give her the company, and she put the cyanide in his after-sex coffee. I had to restart things with Richard and hold out the candle that he and I could finally be together, which, as you've seen, has backfired tremendously. But I'll deal with that later."

Seeing the shock in my face, she laughs. "Don't worry. I won't kill him. I didn't wear his ring, and I remembered to take my birth control, so no chance of kiddies that can complicate things. I'll just take the kids and go somewhere else. I thought I'd keep the house, but since Theresa's a thief, and you're a nosy bitch, I think I'll have to downsize. Maybe California. Some nice bungalow in Malibu. What the hell even is a bungalow? It sounds like some kind of tent. Oh well.

"Anyway, I have to kill you. I've told you too much. I'm sorry. I really was going to let you leave, it's just… I've had a really bad day, and I needed someone to talk to. And I don't think you were going to let this go. I think you were going to tell the cops about me, and I can't let that happen. I'll tell the kids… Fuck, I don't know. I'll figure it out."

I rush her then. Her eyes widen, and she fires the gun, but not before I catch her wrist and push it up to the ceiling. I wrestle with her and try to throw her to the ground, but she shrieks and scratches me hard across the face. I can feel her nails tear through my skin, and I cry out in pain.

She snarls and pulls. She's smaller than me, but she has strength born of youth and insanity. She pulls me off balance, and I fall to the ground. I still hold the gun, but the barrel ends up pointed straight at my head. I cry out and shove it to the side. The next gun shot sends a bullet into the floor of the garage, and also bursts my right eardrum.

I cry out again, but I can't hear myself. I can't hear anything. I feel blood trickle from my ear, and for a moment, all I can do is keep the gun pointed away.

Cecilia plants her heel on my chest and tries to pull her hand away, but I kick up and knock her off balance, then throw her over my shoulder.

She lands on her side, and scratches at me again. I duck my head, so the injuries are less severe this time, but still wince as her nails slide over my forehead.

I need to get on top of her. She's going to have more stamina than me, and it's evidently a mistake to count on superior physical strength. If only I had thought to take some self-defense classes.

I roll on top of her and try to wrestle the gun away, but she has a death grip on it. She swipes at me with her claws again, but this time, I grab her wrist and use my weight to force her arm down. I get my knee over her hand and use both of mine to try to pull the gun away.

God, how is she so strong? I struggle with all of my might, but she still maintains her grip. I lift my knee, thinking to press it into her face and cause her to release the gun, but with a snarl, she grabs my ankle and rolls me back over. She lifts the handgun and slams the butt into my nose.

My good ear hums, and I taste copper in my mouth. My vision fades, and she easily dislodges my limp hands from the weapon. She points the gun at me, and I close my eyes. I feel cold white fingers grip my shoulder and stare into the black, empty gaze of death.

"Drop the weapon!"

I can barely hear Richard's voice, and at first, I don't believe it. Then I hear it again. "Drop it, Cecilia! Damn it, I will shoot you!"

I open my eyes and see Cecilia staring in utter disbelief at the doorway. Richard stands there, gun drawn, tears streaming down his face, but clear resolve in his eyes. "Drop it!" he commands again.

Cecilia's lip trembles. For a moment, I think she'll kill me anyway. Then she tosses the gun to the side.

I release the breath I've been holding and offer a silent prayer of thanks when Cecilia gets off of me and turns around to allow Richard to handcuff her.

There will be a great deal of pain to deal with—both mine and others—but for the moment, I allow myself to be grateful that I'm alive and that Johnathan Ashford's murderer is in custody.

I did it, Annie.