Chapter 8 - Margaret's Trial
Margaret entered court dressed like she was attending church.
Pearls.
Navy dress.
Hair perfect.
She smiled at reporters.
Then she saw me.
The smile disappeared.
The prosecution began with money.
Forged loans.
Offshore transfers.
Fake companies.
Then romance.
Target lists.
Background reports.
ASHFORD NEXT.
Then violence.
The slap.
The lake plan.
The attempt to remove me from my own mansion.
Finally, Victoria testified.
That destroyed Margaret.
Victoria described the entire structure.
“How did Margaret refer to wealthy romantic partners?” the prosecutor asked.
Victoria hesitated.
“Acquisitions.”
A murmur filled the courtroom.
“And Claire Ashford?”
“The retirement acquisition.”
My stomach turned.
Margaret's attorney attacked Victoria as a liar.
She was.
That was the problem with criminal conspiracies.
Everyone was a liar.
So prosecutors relied on records.
Emails.
Transfers.
Documents.
Recordings.
Margaret's own words.
One recording came from the video call I had already seen.
Victoria:
“Once she's out, we sell the mansion and disappear.”
Daniel:
“She'll never know you're alive.”
Then Margaret:
“Claire doesn't need to know anything until the papers are filed.”
Her voice was calm.
Routine.
As though stealing my home was administrative housekeeping.
I testified on day six.
Margaret's attorney asked:
“Mrs. Whitmore—”
“Ms. Ashford,” I corrected.
He paused.
“Ms. Ashford.”
That felt good.
He tried to suggest I had willingly supported Margaret.
“You gave her ten thousand dollars every month?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Almost five years.”
“So she did not steal that money.”
“She obtained it while participating in a fraudulent relationship designed to gain access to my assets.”
“That's your interpretation.”
“No.”
I looked toward the evidence table.
“That's what her spreadsheet says.”
A juror almost smiled.
The defense never recovered.
Margaret testified.
Rebecca whispered:
“Of course she is.”
On the stand, Margaret blamed everyone.
Victoria was greedy.
Daniel weak.
Edward vindictive.
I was spoiled.
My father corrupt.
Finally, the prosecutor asked:
“Mrs. Whitmore, is there anyone besides yourself responsible for your current circumstances?”
Margaret looked at me.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Claire.”
The prosecutor waited.
“How is Claire responsible?”
“She should have known her place.”
The courtroom became completely silent.
My cheek almost remembered the slap.
Maybe Margaret did too.
The prosecutor simply said:
May you like
“No further questions.”
The jury convicted her.
