Chapter 2 - The Architect of Ruin
I walked back into the house,
the floorboards creaking under my boots.
I could hear the kettle whistling in the kitchen,
a domestic sound that now felt like a warning siren.
Evelyn was there,
her back to me,
stirring a pot of oatmeal.
"Oh,
Samantha,
you're up early,"
she said,
not turning around.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Like the dead,"
I replied,
my voice steady.
I watched her hand as she reached for a small vial in the spice cabinet.
She moved with practiced grace,
tipping a few drops into a blue ceramic mug.
My mug.
"Here,
dear,
have some tea,"
she said,
turning with a forced smile.
"You look a bit pale after last night."
I took the mug,
the warmth of it seeping into my palms.
"Thank you,
Evelyn,"
I said,
looking her directly in the eyes.
"You're always so thoughtful."
I carried the tea to the dining table and sat down.
Travis was already there,
reading the financial news on his tablet.
He didn't look up,
but I could see the smug tilt of his mouth.
Big Tom entered a moment later,
the floor shaking under his heavy boots.
He was a man who took up too much space,
both physically and metaphorically.
"Friday is coming fast,
Sam,"
he boomed,
reaching for the coffee.
"Ready to be a lady of leisure?"
"I've been thinking about the ranch,"
I said,
stirring the poisoned tea.
"My grandmother always said the land has a way of revealing the truth."
Big Tom paused,
his eyes narrowing.
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"Just that I've been doing some reading,"
I continued.
"Into the harvests of 2021."
"The numbers don't seem to add up,
Tom."
"We billed for three thousand tons of hay,"
"But the irrigation records show we only watered half that acreage."
The silence in the room became brittle.
Travis finally looked up,
his eyes cold.
"Don't worry your pretty head about the hay,
Sam."
"You’re an accountant,
not a farmer."
"That’s exactly the problem,"
I said,
leaning forward.
"As an accountant,
I noticed that the missing hay matches the exact amount of cash"
"that was deposited into your offshore account in the Caymans."
Big Tom slammed his fist on the table.
"Watch your tongue,
girl!"
"This is my house!"
"No,"
I said,
standing up and pouring the blue mug onto his expensive rug.
"This is my grandmother’s house."
"And I think the arsenic is starting to make me very,
very grumpy."
The look of shock on Evelyn’s face was worth every cent of my inheritance.
I walked out of the room before they could react,
the sound of their frantic whispering following me like a swarm of hornets.
May you like
I had just declared war,
and I had never felt more alive.
