MARGARET

​I walked out of the clinic, checking my nails to make sure they hadn't been chipped in the scuffle. My heart was still racing, but not from fear. Boy, it isn't from fear. It was the adrenaline of the win. From my huge win.

Ezra was dead, the poison was blamed on him alone, and I was free. And it fucking calls for celebration.

​"Margaret." The cold voice hit me like a bucket of ice water. And even without looking, I knew who the voice belonged to.

I stopped and looked up. It was my brother, Marcus. He was standing in the middle of the hallway, his arms crossed...