Chapter 8 - The Fall of Margaret Cole
Dawn broke over the Ashley River in ribbons of pale gold and lavender.
A single black transport van was parked at the side entrance of Cole Manor. Two private movers were loading three modest suitcases into the back.
Margaret Cole walked down the stone stairs for the final time.
She wore an ordinary gray woolen coat, no jewelry, and her hair was pulled back without its usual immaculate styling. The grand entrance halls, the crystal chandeliers, the priceless oil paintings that she had spent her life guarding like a dragon over gold—all of it was gone.
Standing by the iron gates, watching the morning mist rise from the river, were Nathan and Elena.
Margaret stopped before the car. She looked toward them, her lips trembling, perhaps wanting to speak, perhaps wanting to curse them.
Neither of them moved. Neither of them said a word.
The driver closed the rear door, the engine started with a low rumble, and the van rolled down the gravel driveway, disappearing through the wrought-iron gates and out of their lives forever.
Elena let out a long, slow breath, watching the red taillights vanish. "It doesn't feel real."
Nathan turned to his sister, reaching out and gently taking her hand. "It's real, Elena. The nightmare is over."
"Thirty-four years," she murmured, tears shining in the morning sun. "My mother lived thirty-four years in fear of that woman."
"Our mother," Nathan corrected gently. "Rebecca was our mother. And she was braver than any Cole who ever walked through that door."
Elena smiled through her tears, squeezing Nathan’s hand tightly. "What happens to this place now?"
Nathan looked up at the massive white columns, the grand brick facade that had stood as a monument to arrogance and theft for over a century.
May you like
"Whatever you want," Nathan said. "It belongs to you now."
***
