A Widow's Poison, A Wife's Rebellion novel Chapter 70

That evening, Molly prepared a late supper for Starla. She ate a little, then went to sleep in one of the guest rooms. Fairfax was out, though she didn't know or care where.

Just as she was going to bed, her phone rang. It was Garret. “Miss, it’s done.”

“And the estate?” Starla asked. The two smaller villas were a minor inconvenience for Harriet; their destruction was merely a statement. The real blow was the Vista Bay estate. It was Harriet’s sanctuary, the place where she kept her most valuable and sentimental possessions.

Harriet had tried to send a warning by trashing her home in Maple Heights. This was Starla’s response.

“The entire estate was engulfed,” Garret reported. “By the time the fire department extinguishes the flames, there will be nothing left but the frame.”

“Good,” Starla said. “Leave no traces.”

“Don’t worry,” Garret assured her. He had handled countless situations like this for Yardley over the years. Covering their tracks was his specialty. He couldn't help but notice the same ruthless streak in Starla that he saw in her brother.

Not long after she hung up, Fairfax returned. He found her room, pushed the door open, but didn’t enter. He stood silhouetted against the light from the hallway, his expression unreadable.

Starla had a habit of playing a round of a game on her phone before bed. The sound of virtual gunfire and explosions filled the quiet room. She was propped up against the headboard, her eyes glued to the screen. From the moment he opened the door, she hadn’t even looked up.

The rage that had been building in Fairfax all night finally erupted. He strode into the room, snatched the phone from her hands, and slammed it onto the floor. The sounds of battle abruptly ceased.

Only then did Starla raise her head, her eyes filled with an unnerving coldness. She threw back the covers, got out of bed, picked up the vase from the nightstand, and with the same violent motion, smashed it on the floor.

Fairfax stared at her, stunned into silence. She bent down, retrieved her broken phone, and inspected the damage. It was ruined.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” he demanded, his voice tight with fury, unnerved by her dead-calm demeanor.

“This phone cost twelve thousand dollars,” she said, her voice flat. “I’ll have my lawyer add it to the list of assets you need to compensate me for in the divorce settlement.”

That was what she had to say? That was it? Her detached, business-like tone sent him over the edge.

“How did you do it?” he roared, the question of the Vista Bay fire and the trashed villas finally bursting out of him. “Are you insane?”

He knew everything. An incident of that magnitude had already made news, and Harriet would have been screaming for blood.

Starla gave him a cool, appraising look but said nothing.

“Did Herbert help you?” he accused, the name adding fuel to his fire.

“My house in Maple Heights,” she said, her voice cutting through his anger, “was trashed within an hour of Harriet’s plane landing. Did you know that?”

He froze, his face stiffening.

She casually tossed the broken phone into the trash can. “I thought you would ask me why I did it,” she said, turning back to face him. “But from the sound of it, you think I’m the one who started this fight.”

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