Margaret was at the end of the corridor.Not running, not frantic — that wasn't Margaret. She was walking with the composed, deliberate energy she brought to everything, pearls and all, like she'd simply decided to visit and the two Gerald's men currently trying to redirect her were a minor inconvenience she intended to resolve through sheer force of will.Which, knowing Margaret, wasn't entirely unreasonable."Mrs. McKinney." Gerald's man — the taller one, Damien — was using his professional voice, the one that was firm without being aggressive. "I need you to stop right there.""I need to see my son," Margaret said. Same tone she used to request more tea. "Please move.""Ma'am—""I said please," Margaret said, which somehow made it more alarming rather than less. Neo stepped out of the family room doorway.Margaret saw him.Something in her face — the composure, the pearls, the twenty years of holding things together — shifted. Not collapsed. Margaret McKinney didn't collapse. But
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