sit in on the reading of the will; it’s going to be a matter of routine anyway. Mr Murphy knows us well enough not to insist on your being there and Tom left everything to you. It’s the least he could have done.’ Maggie’s voice couldn’t hide its bitter edge.
‘Oh, really love, do you think so? If I could just take a rest…’
‘Of course, everything is going to be fine.’ Maggie tried to inject upbeat energy into her voice when all she felt was drained beyond belief.
A short time later the car pulled off the main road in the small village outside Dublin and swept through the gates of a large, welcoming country house. Maggie took a deep comforting breath. The first glimpse of the house through the trees that lined the short drive never failed to lift her spirits. It had been their own family home—her father and mother’s. It was the one thing her stepfather hadn’t got his hands on. A link back to happier days, the memories of which she knew had helped her mother get through the worst times. It was here she and her mother had moved back to six months ago, after that…Even now she couldn’t bring herself to think of that night. The pain in her heart was still acute, despite her attempts to ignore it, deny it. The awful humiliation was still vivid.
Luckily her mother had listened to her and they’d left London almost immediately. By the time Tom had realised that his plan hadn’t worked he’d been too caught up with his business to come after them. And now he was gone for good. Dead. She brought her mother up to her bedroom and was almost at the door when she called her back.
‘What is it, Mum?’ Maggie walked over and sat down.
Her mother’s eyes were suddenly bright and serious. ‘Promise me you’ll never speak of what happened to us…what Tom did to us…I couldn’t bear the shame.’
She was used to this recurring plea of her mother’s. ‘Of course not…you know I never have; why would I now?’
Her mother grabbed her hand with surprising strength. ‘Promise me, Margaret.’
‘I promise.’ She pressed a kiss to her mother’s forehead and left again. It was a promise she wouldn’t find hard to keep; she had no intention of talking or thinking about Tom Holland ever again if she could help it. Maggie went back downstairs and heard the sound of a car. The solicitor. After hanging up her coat, she quickly smoothed back her hair, opening the door with a smile as the bell sounded. She had always liked the small man with twinkling eyes. Unlike the rest of Tom Holland’s coterie of hangers-on and staff, his local Dublin solicitor had also been her father’s solicitor.
She showed the older gentleman into the front room. ‘I hope you’ll excuse my mother; she’s not feeling the best.’
He turned to face Maggie, ‘Nothing serious, I hope?’
‘No,’ she quickly assured him, knowing of his genuine concern. ‘She’s just tired and drained from the past few days. But if you need her here—’
He put up a hand. ‘Actually, maybe it’s better if she doesn’t hear what I have to say.’ Suddenly he couldn’t meet Maggie’s eyes and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. A sliver of fear made her stop breathing for a second. It was too good to be true that Tom Holland was gone. She knew it.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Maggie let’s sit down. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.’
She moved numbly to a chair and watched as the solicitor sat down near a table and put down his briefcase. He didn’t take out any papers. She struggled to stay calm, despite his bleak face.
‘What…what is it?’
He looked up at her finally, his hands stretching out, palms up, empty. ‘I’m afraid that you and your mother have been left with nothing.’
Her heart started to beat normally again, as she relaxed. It wasn’t too bad. She and her mother hadn’t ever received much from Tom and she had been supporting herself for years since college and was building a modest income from her paintings.
‘Well, that’s not the end of the world, is it? But…but where did it all go?’
They were talking about millions of pounds after all. Mr Murphy sighed; he hated being the bearer of bad news. ‘It would appear that one of his adversaries finally brought him down, lock stock and barrel—the timing is most unfortunate. A tycoon in the UK that your stepfather attempted to take over some time ago has been steadily buying up stock, taking over his companies and on the day Tom had the heart attack the last of his businesses crumbled—a freak coincidence.’
That would explain his absence, why he hadn’t followed them home, demanded her mother return to London, punished them. Despite the dire news, Maggie couldn’t help the spike of satisfaction that rushed through her; she only wished she could have seen his reaction when he had found out.
‘Well, there’s nothing to be done now; at least we have our house.’
The words fell into the space between them and Maggie watched with growing dread as she saw Mr Murphy’s eyes flicker away guiltily and his hand went to his collar as if he needed air.
‘Mr Murphy, we do have this house, don’t we? It’s my mother’s.’
He shook his head slowly, as if he couldn’t even bring himself to articulate the words. At Maggie’s desperate look he had to. He cleared his throat and it sounded harsh in the silence of the room.
‘My dear…nearly a year ago in London your stepfather persuaded your mother to sign over this house in his name as collateral. God knows how he persuaded her; maybe she didn’t understand what she was doing…I’m afraid it was tied up with all of his other assets. It now belongs to—’
Just then the sound of a car outside the window stopped his words. Maggie couldn’t move; she was in shock. She couldn’t even begin to figure how her mother had done such a thing; this house was sacrosanct. Rage and disbelief warred inside her as the information sank in.
Mr Murphy was looking out of the window. ‘That’s him. The head of the corporation. He came to see me personally and insisted on coming here today to see you and your mother. I’m so sorry, but he refused to be dissuaded.’
When the doorbell rang and Maggie didn’t move, Mr Murphy finally got up to answer it. She was numb, barely aware of the sound of the door opening, footsteps approaching, the deep timbre of a voice answering something the solicitor had said. Maggie looked up and suddenly her world stopped turning. She felt herself standing slowly as if moving through treacle, her limbs sluggish and unwieldy.
Caleb Cameron. Larger than life, his huge frame filling the doorway. He cocked his head slightly and a mocking smile touched his lips. His eyes captured Maggie’s and she couldn’t look away. They were glacial, moving over her, stripping her. The man who had turned her world upside down that night six months ago was back…apparently to turn it upside down again. She fought strenuously against the shocking pull she could feel in every cell as she reacted to his commanding aura. The room seemed to tilt slightly on its axis as she unconsciously sucked in a breath, her need for oxygen necessary but secondary to the shock after shock that she was reeling from.
Unable to tear her eyes away from his in morbid fascination, she didn’t notice the solicitor precede Caleb into the room and gesture towards her. ‘This is Margaret Holland. Maggie, this is Caleb Cameron, he’s the man who has taken over all of your
