“Since we’re laying bare family secrets,”
Margaret said, her voice carrying across the devastated room,
“let me add one more.”
Victor’s head snapped up.
“Margaret, don’t.”
“Eleanor didn’t die in an accident.”
The room went completely still.
“She lost control of her car on a rainy night. That’s true.”
Margaret’s voice was steady.
“But do you know why she was driving at midnight in a storm?”
Victor, no answer.
“Because you told her you were going to send Sabrina away to boarding school. You said you couldn’t stand looking at another man’s child anymore.”
Gasps rippled through the room.
“Eleanor was driving to her sister’s house—to Ruth—to beg her to take Sabrina in. She was going to leave you. Finally, after years of threats and manipulation, she’d had enough.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know because she called me that night.”
Margaret’s voice trembled.
“She was crying so hard I could barely understand her. She said, ‘Margaret, he’s going to take my baby away. I can’t let him. I’d rather die than let him hurt her anymore.’”
The room was frozen.
“And then her car went off the road.”
Margaret wiped her eyes.
“She didn’t lose control, Victor. She lost hope.”
Victor looked like he’d been struck.
“Ellaner spent eight years in a loveless marriage protecting a daughter you never wanted. She was 29 years old when she died, and the last words she ever said to anyone were about keeping Sabrina safe.”
“That’s not—that’s not fair.”
“Fair?”
Margaret’s voice rose for the first time.
“You want to talk about fair? That little girl grew up motherless in a house full of people who resented her existence. You don’t get to talk about fair.”
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