6
578words
"Is this old man senile? Does he not understand the current situation?"
"These people just don't listen. Now they've ruined their alliance with the Thorpes. The Crawford family is doomed."
"Exactly. Mr. Maxwell is the family's beloved youngest son, and Miss Whitmore is the pampered only daughter of her family."
My grandfather ignored them. He brought Maxwell to stand before me.
"Eleanor, tell me everything they did to you. Grandfather will make it right."
I glanced at the chaotic pond, now churning with the flailing bodies of Cassandra and the servants, and a slow smile spread across my face.
"Grandfather, let's have them pulled out first."
He shot me a look of displeasure, thinking I was going soft. I just gave him a reassuring glance.
I am no saint.
Cassandra had already lost consciousness from swallowing water.
But instead of CPR, my grandfather's bodyguards took turns slapping her face until she coughed, sputtered, and finally came to.
The first thing she did upon waking was charge at me, her face swollen like a pig's.
"Eleanor Crawford! You hit me!"
I calmly picked up the power saw from the ground and looked at her.
She froze, a flicker of fear in her eyes, and instinctively covered her hands.
"What are you doing? I'm telling you, if you lay a single finger on me, the Whitmores and the Thorpes will never let you get away with it!"
I flicked the switch on the saw. The bodyguard next to me understood immediately.
He grabbed her hand and held it out for me.
Ignoring her threats, I brought the saw down on her index finger.
"I touched you," I said calmly, as a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the garden.
"What are you going to do about it?"
"Without an index finger, you can't go around accusing people of stealing your rings anymore, can you?"
Her severed finger rolled to a stop at Maxwell's feet. The color drained from his face.
He shut his eyes as if looking at something repulsive and tried to back away, but the guards held him fast.
He fumbled for his phone, his hands trembling, muttering to himself.
"This is insane! Just wait until my grandfather gets here, you'll all be sorry..."
Before he could finish, my grandfather pulled out his own phone and dialed.
"Hello? Benjamin, my friend! How are you enjoying your visit to my home?"
The voice on the other end was warm and sycophantic.
My grandfather let out a cold snort.
"Nathaniel Thorpe, you have many grandsons. You certainly know how to pick them."
Nathaniel Thorpe was no fool.
He immediately recognized the sarcasm and his voice dropped several octaves.
"Was it Maxwell? Did he offend you, my friend? Don't worry, I'll be right over to deal with him!"
"If he had offended me, it would be one thing. You've known me for most of your life; you know I'm lenient with the younger generation."
Nathaniel's voice was now laced with pure dread. He swallowed hard.
"Then... did he offend Miss Crawford?"
"He had the audacity to say my Eleanor was responsible for her parents' death!"
Anyone who had been with my grandfather in the old days knew that since my parents' death, I had been the absolute center of his world.
And the one unbreakable taboo in the Crawford family was any mention of my parents' accident.
Maxwell had just stomped all over it.
