Chapter 14 - The Quiet Dusk
Later that evening, long after the guests had departed and the warm lights of the mansion had been dimmed to a soft twilight glow, Margaret walked alone through the quiet corridors of the second floor.
She stopped outside the west wing nursery—the room where her life had been forever altered on a freezing night in 1994.
The room was no longer a nursery. It was a sunlit library filled with children’s books, soft beanbag chairs, and colorful murals painted on the walls.
Margaret walked over to the large bay window and looked out at the ocean.
The moon was full, casting a long, shimmering silver path across the dark, undulating surface of the water. The wind outside blew gently through the pine trees, creating a soft, rhythmic whisper that sounded like a lullaby.
She felt no pain in her torso where the three silver scars remained etched into her skin. She felt no anger toward the family that had tried to crush her. She felt only the deep, vast, unshakeable peace of a warrior who had fought her battle, saved her children, and won her freedom.
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She leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window, taking a long, slow breath of the clean ocean air.
"Rest now, Arthur," Margaret whispered into the quiet night. "The house is safe."
