CHAPTER 7
Abigail's heart stopped.
Marcus's hands were on her arms. Firm. Unyielding.
“Let go of me,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
He didn't let go. If anything, his grip tightened.
“Now, that's not very friendly. I just wanted to say hello. Spencer has told me so much about you.”
He leaned in. His breath smelled like cigarettes and whiskey.
“I also couldn't help but notice you were standing outside the supply closet for quite a while. Did you hear something interesting?”
Abigail's mind raced. She had to think. She had to act.
“I was just... I was looking for a nurse. Spencer needs something.”
Marcus smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.
“Is that right? Because it looked to me like you were listening. And if you were listening... then you probably heard some things that weren't meant for your ears.”
He glanced toward the supply closet. The door opened.
Victoria and Spencer stepped out.
Spencer's face fell when he saw her.
“Mom? What are you still doing here?”
Abigail looked at her son. Really looked at him.
The mask was gone. The loving son. The sick patient.
In his place stood a stranger. Cold. Calculating. Dangerous.
“You knew I was there,” she said. Her voice shook. “You said those things on purpose. You wanted me to hear.”
Spencer exchanged a look with Victoria. Then he laughed. A short, bitter sound.
“Always so sharp, Mom. Even when you're terrified.”
He stepped closer. “Yes. We knew you were there. We've known for days that you've been recording us. That you've been talking to lawyers. That Naomi has been feeding you information.”
Abigail's world tilted.
“How...”
“Because nothing happens in this hospital without me knowing about it. The nurses talk. The orderlies talk. Everyone has a price, Mom. Even your precious Naomi.”
No. Not Naomi.
“You're lying.”
“Am I?” Spencer nodded toward Marcus, who pulled out his phone and pressed play.
A woman's voice filled the hallway. Naomi's voice.
“I told her everything. About Victoria. About the business. She's meeting with a lawyer named Arthur Chen. She's planning to claim the lottery tomorrow.”
Then Spencer's voice, from the recording.
“Good. And she believes you're on her side?”
“Completely. She thinks I'm her savior. She has no idea I'm working for you.”
The recording ended.
Abigail felt sick.
Naomi. The woman who had seemed so genuine. So trustworthy.
Another liar. Another player in this terrible game.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why would you do this to me?”
Spencer's face hardened.
“Because you were never going to give me what I deserved. Not really. You'd dribble it out. A little here. A little there. Always with strings attached. Always making me feel like I owed you something.”
He gestured to himself. To the hospital room. To the life they'd built.
“I gave you purpose, Mom. After Dad died, you had nothing. No one. I gave you someone to take care of. Someone to love. And what did I get in return? A bunch of hand-me-downs and lectures about responsibility.”
Victoria stepped forward, linking her arm through his.
“Your son deserves better, Mrs. Riley. He deserves to be wealthy. To be comfortable. To not have to scrape by for every dollar.”
Abigail stared at them. At the two people who had orchestrated her destruction.
“So what now? You've revealed yourselves. What's the next step?”
Marcus tightened his grip on her arms.
“The next step is simple. Tomorrow morning, you're going to go to the lottery headquarters. You're going to claim that prize. And then you're going to sign every last penny over to Spencer.”
“And if I don't?”
Spencer's eyes went cold.
“Then we have a problem. A big problem. And I really don't want to have to solve it the hard way.”
Abigail thought of Arthur. Of the police. Of the safe in his office.
She thought of Plan B. Of Marcus knowing people.
She had to play for time.
“And if I do this? If I sign everything over? What happens to me?”
Spencer smiled. The loving son was back, just for a moment.
“Then you get to live, Mom. Simple as that. You get to go back to your little house. You get to pretend none of this ever happened. And you never have to see me again. Isn't that what you want? To be free of your burden?”
The words cut deeper than any knife.
Her own son saw himself as a burden.
Or maybe he just wanted her to see him that way.
“Let me think about it,” she said.
Marcus laughed. “You don't get to think about it. You either agree, or—”
“Let her think,” Spencer said, cutting him off. He looked at Abigail. “She needs time to process. To understand that this is the only way.”
He leaned in. His voice was soft. Intimate.
“I'll give you until tomorrow morning, Mom. Eight o'clock. Either you do exactly what we say, or... well. I think you heard Plan B. And you know I'm not bluffing.”
He stepped back.
“Now go home. Get some rest. And think very carefully about your choice.”
Marcus released her arms.
Abigail turned and walked away. Her legs felt like jelly. Her mind was a storm.
She didn't look back.
When she reached her car, she locked the doors and fumbled for her phone.
Arthur answered on the first ring.
“Abigail? What's wrong? You sound—”
“They know. Everything. They've known all along. Naomi was working for them. She fed me information to make me trust her. To lead me exactly where they wanted.”
Arthur was silent for a moment. Then he swore.
“Are you safe? Are they with you?”
“I'm in my car. I'm leaving the hospital. But they gave me an ultimatum. Tomorrow morning, I have to claim the prize and sign everything over to Spencer. Or they'll... they'll hurt me.”
“Okay. Listen to me carefully. Do not go home. They might be waiting for you there. Come straight to my office. We'll figure this out.”
“What about the police?”
“Not yet. Not until we have them in a position where they can't talk their way out of it. If we call the police now, they'll just deny everything. They'll say you're confused. That you're grieving your husband and the stress made you imagine things. And with Naomi on their side, they might even make it stick.”
Abigail's hands trembled as she drove.
“So what do we do?”
“We stick to the plan. But we change the ending. Tomorrow morning, you will go to the lottery headquarters. You will claim the prize. And you will make it look like you're going to sign it over to Spencer.”
“But—”
“Let me finish. The money will go into the trust. Just like we planned. Irrevocable. Untouchable. And when Spencer and Victoria and Marcus show up to collect? The police will be waiting. And we'll have every word of their threat recorded.”
“How? They didn't say anything while I had the pen.”
Arthur's voice was calm. Steady.
“Because I had your car bugged this morning. After our conversation. I had a feeling something like this might happen. Every word they said to you in the parking lot—if they said anything there—is recorded. And if they call you tonight? Every word of that call will be recorded too.”
Abigail thought of the conversation in the hallway.
“They didn't say anything in the parking lot. They confronted me inside the hospital. In the hallway.”
“Did you have your phone on you?”
“Yes. But it was in my purse.”
“Was the voice recorder on?”
Abigail froze.
She had turned it on before she went in to see Spencer. She always did.
And she had never turned it off.
“Yes,” she breathed. “It was on. The whole time.”
Arthur let out a breath.
“Good. That's everything we need. Their threats. Their admission of fraud. Their conspiracy. All on tape.”
He paused.
“Now, get to my office. We have a long night ahead of us. And tomorrow, we end this.”
Abigail drove through the dark streets, her mind racing.
Naomi had betrayed her.
Spencer had threatened her.
And twenty million dollars was on the line.
But for the first time since this nightmare began, Abigail felt something she hadn't felt in a long time.
Hope.
Because she had the evidence. She had the truth.
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And tomorrow, she was going to take back her life.
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