“I thought it would only hurt you a little.”
Sophia looked at this woman – who until recently had been so terrifying and all-powerful – and felt only emptiness.
No hate, no fear.
Pure, utter exhaustion.
“Lucy, call the police,” she said quietly.
Eleanor threw herself at her.
“No, wait a minute. We can work something out. I’ll give you money. Lots of money.” But don’t call the police.
“Too late,” Sophia replied.
Much too late.
The police arrived within twenty minutes.
They took Eleanor away in handcuffs, disoriented and screaming about injustice and conspiracies.
Sophia stood on the sidewalk, wrapped in a coat one of the police officers had given her, watching the flashing blue and red lights of police cars illuminate the night street.
Lucy put her arm around her.
“How do you feel?”
“I don’t know. Empty.”
“It’s normal. It’s a shock.”
“I need to call Alex.”
“The police have already notified him. He’s on his way.”
Sophia closed her eyes.
Her husband would arrive soon, and then she would have to tell him that his mother was a poisoner—that the woman he had admired all his life had tried to kill his wife.
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