CHAPTER 7: THE FALL OF THE SOCIALITE
Across the secure detention facility, Margaret Sterling sat in her own holding cell with her arms tightly crossed over her chest. Her hair was unstyled, her face devoid of makeup, and her expression twisted into a mask of bitter, unyielding resentment.
An assistant federal prosecutor entered the room, sliding a proposed plea document across the table with a pen resting neatly on top. "Sign this, Margaret, and we'll recommend twenty years instead of life without parole for your cooperation," the prosecutor offered plainly.
Margaret sneered, looking down at the papers with utter contempt before pushing them away with a flick of her wrist. "You think you've won, don't you?" she rasped out, her voice dripping with venom. "Claire Whitmore is just a naive little girl playing in a world she doesn't understand."
"Claire Whitmore dismantled your entire criminal operation in less than twenty-four hours using evidence your own granddaughter recovered," the prosecutor countered sharply. "Your son has already confessed to every single detail of the poison plot."
Margaret’s jaw twitched slightly at the mention of Daniel's confession, her narcissistic loyalty finally shattering completely. She had raised a weak, pathetic fool who couldn't even execute a simple deception without getting caught by a child.
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"He ruined everything," Margaret muttered under her breath, her eyes flashing with pure hatred. "I built that family's reputation from nothing, and he let a little girl destroy it all."
The prosecutor picked up the paperwork, shaking his head with quiet disgust before turning toward the heavy exit door. "Your reputation died the moment you tried to murder an innocent mother in broad daylight," he said over his shoulder.
