Till Death Do Us Part

Chapter One: A Perfect Beginning

The night was drenched in moonlight, casting a silver glow over the grand estate nestled deep in the countryside. A perfect night, as it should be—after all, everything about James Holloway was perfect. His charm, his wealth, his effortless way of making a woman feel as though she were the only person in the world. And now, he had a new wife to bring into his perfect life.

Margaret Holloway—formerly Margaret Wallace—stood in the center of the candlelit ballroom, watching the guests filter out. The wedding had been a dream: the vows exchanged beneath a canopy of white roses, the music humming through the air like a spell, and James, her perfect husband, holding her close as they swayed through their first dance.

Yet, beneath the lace of her gown, Margaret felt a weight pressing against her chest, something just shy of dread. She told herself it was only nerves. After all, marrying a man like James—so handsome, so intelligent—was like stepping into a fairytale. He had given her everything: security, devotion, the promise of a life beyond her modest beginnings.

From across the room, James caught her gaze and smiled. That smile—warm, reassuring, practiced. Beside him stood his daughter, Lillian, a striking young girl of sixteen. She was ethereal in the way porcelain dolls were, delicate and haunting. Lillian had been reserved throughout the evening, always watching, always lingering just close enough to James to remind Margaret that she was part of the package.

“Happy, my love?” James whispered as he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Margaret turned, leaning into him, forcing away her unease. “Of course. Everything was perfect.”

“Good,” he murmured against her ear. “I want nothing more than for you to be happy.”

Lillian appeared beside them, smiling up at her father before shifting her gaze to Margaret. Her pale blue eyes studied her in that way she always did—curious, almost clinical.

“You looked beautiful tonight, Margaret,” Lillian said, her voice soft, almost too measured for a teenager. “Welcome to the family.”

Margaret smiled, though something in Lillian’s tone sent a shiver down her spine.

"Thank you, Lillian," she replied, though her voice sounded hollow even to herself.

James chuckled, pressing a kiss to his new wife’s temple. “It’s late. Let’s get you upstairs, darling.”

As he led her through the grand halls of their estate, Margaret caught a glimpse of a large, gilded portrait at the end of the corridor. It was an oil painting—an older one, its details softened with time—but unmistakably a wedding portrait. A beautiful woman stood beside James, her smile frozen in time, her eyes dark and full of secrets.

Margaret halted, her throat tightening. “Who is that?”

James followed her gaze. His grip on her arm stiffened, but only for a second.

“My late wife, Evelyn.” His voice was smooth, unbothered. “Lillian’s mother.”

Margaret swallowed. Of course. She had asked before, but James never spoke of Evelyn in detail. Just that she had passed in a tragic accident years ago, leaving him and Lillian to fend for themselves.

She forced a smile, allowing herself to be led away.

But as she turned the corner, she could have sworn Lillian was still standing by the portrait, staring at it—not with sadness, but with something else. Something far too knowing.

Margaret told herself it was just her imagination.

It was their wedding night. The beginning of her new life.

Everything was perfect.

For now.


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Chapter Two: A House Full of Ghosts

Margaret awoke to the sound of soft humming.

She stirred beneath the silk sheets, momentarily disoriented. The events of the night before flooded back—the ceremony, the toasts, James’ lips on hers. Her wedding night had been everything she’d dreamed of, and yet… something in her still felt restless.

The humming continued, distant but distinct. A melody, soft and sweet, drifting through the walls.

Margaret sat up. The sound was coming from the hallway.

Pulling on a robe, she stepped onto the cool marble floor and padded toward the door. The house was dark, save for the dim sconces lining the corridors. The painting of Evelyn loomed at the end of the hall, watching.

Then she saw her.

Lillian.

The girl was standing in front of the portrait, her back to Margaret, humming the same eerie tune.

Margaret hesitated. “Lillian?”

The girl turned slowly, her face eerily serene in the low light. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Margaret forced a chuckle. “Something like that. And you?”

Lillian tilted her head, stepping closer. “I like to walk the halls at night. It helps me think.”

Margaret swallowed. “What were you humming?”

Lillian smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “A song my mother used to sing.”

A chill ran down Margaret’s spine.

“I should get back to bed,” she murmured, stepping backward.

Lillian nodded, watching her retreat with an expression that Margaret couldn’t quite decipher.

As she slipped back into bed beside James, she told herself there was nothing to be afraid of.

But deep down, a whisper of doubt had taken root.

Something was wrong in this house.

She just didn’t know it yet.

Chapter Three: The Cracks in Perfection

Margaret couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

In the days following the wedding, the unease that had pricked at the edges of her consciousness grew sharper, more insistent. It wasn’t just the eerie stillness of the house, nor the way Lillian always seemed to be watching her, waiting. It was something deeper—something in the air, in the very walls of this place.

James was perfect. Too perfect.

He never lost his temper, never faltered in his patience or affection. He anticipated her every need with a devotion that should have reassured her—but instead, it unsettled her. It was as if he had learned her, memorized her, like an actor playing a role he’d perfected a dozen times before.

Then there was Lillian.

Margaret had never met a teenager like her. Lillian moved through the house like a specter, quiet and knowing, her words always carefully chosen, her presence just a little too poised. At times, Margaret could almost believe she wasn’t a child at all.

And maybe she wasn’t.

The thought came unbidden, sending a chill down Margaret’s spine. But that was ridiculous.

Wasn’t it?


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Chapter Four: Whispers of the Past

Margaret needed answers.

One evening, while James was away on business and Lillian was in her room, Margaret made her way to the study. It was a grand space, lined with bookshelves and heavy oak furniture—James’ sanctuary.

She hesitated before opening the drawer of his desk. This was her husband. What was she expecting to find?

But when she pulled it open, a cold dread settled in her chest.

Documents. Photographs. Neatly organized, as if waiting to be discovered.

One picture stood out immediately—James and another woman, locked in an embrace. She was beautiful, with dark eyes and a knowing smile. The name on the back read Evelyn.

His first wife.

Margaret rifled through more papers, heart pounding. An old newspaper clipping caught her eye:

LOCAL WOMAN DIES IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT.

She scanned the article. Evelyn Holloway had drowned. A terrible accident, no foul play suspected.

But beneath that clipping, another. And another.

Car Crash Claims Life of Young Bride.
Freak House Fire Kills Local Woman.
Boating Accident Leaves Widow and Daughter Behind.

The pattern was undeniable.

Margaret’s breath came in shallow gasps as she reached the bottom of the stack. A single sheet of paper, crisp and white.

An insurance policy.

Her name was on it.

A chill ran through her.

She had to get out of here.

As she turned to leave, the floor creaked behind her.

Margaret spun.

Lillian stood in the doorway, watching.

Smiling.

“You shouldn’t be in here, Margaret,” she said softly.

For the first time, Margaret saw it—the thing that had been lurking behind Lillian’s too-perfect mask.

Not the innocence of a child.

But something else. Something ancient.

Something monstrous.

And suddenly, Margaret knew.

She wasn’t James’ daughter.

She was his partner.

And she was already too deep to escape.


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Chapter Five: A Beautiful Cage

Margaret didn’t sleep that night.

She lay beside James, his breath slow and even, his arm draped protectively over her waist. It should have been comforting. Instead, it felt like a shackle.

Her mind raced, replaying the newspaper clippings, the insurance policy, Lillian’s knowing smile. You shouldn’t be in here, Margaret. The words echoed in her head.

She needed to leave. Now.

But how?

James had mentioned a business trip next week. That would give her time. She’d pack a small bag, hide it, and when he left—she’d be gone.

If she could make it that long.


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Chapter Six: The House of Lies

The next morning, James was as charming as ever, pressing a kiss to Margaret’s forehead before heading out.

“Take it easy today, darling,” he said. “You’ve been so tense lately.”

Margaret forced a smile. “I think I just need some fresh air.”

He touched her cheek, his eyes soft. “Then take a drive. Go shopping. Anything to help you relax.”

Relax.

Right.

Margaret watched him leave, then turned to find Lillian standing in the hallway, watching her.

“Morning,” Margaret said, forcing her voice to stay steady.

Lillian tilted her head. “You didn’t sleep.”

A statement, not a question.

Margaret swallowed. “A lot on my mind.”

Lillian just smiled. “You’ll get used to it.”

To what?

Margaret didn’t ask. She just turned and walked away.


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Chapter Seven: The Truth Begins to Unravel

Margaret spent the day in town, using the time to make a phone call.

She found the number at the bottom of one of the newspaper clippings: Linda Marshall, sister of Hannah Marshall-Holloway, deceased.

Margaret took a deep breath and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Linda?”

A pause. “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Margaret. I… I think I need your help.”

Another pause. Then, “Is this about James?”

The blood drained from Margaret’s face.

“Yes.”

A shaky exhale. “Meet me. Somewhere public. I’ll tell you everything.”


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Chapter Eight: The Sister’s Warning

They met at a quiet diner on the edge of town.

Linda looked tired. Worn down. Like someone who had spent years screaming into the void, unheard.

She wasted no time. “You need to leave him.”

Margaret’s hands shook around her coffee cup. “I think he’s done this before. Multiple times.”

Linda’s jaw tightened. “Not think. Know. My sister—Hannah—she was his wife before Evelyn. And before Hannah? There was another. And another.”

Margaret’s stomach turned. “I found the insurance policies.”

Linda nodded grimly. “They always die in accidents. Always just after he takes them to that house.”

Margaret shivered. “And Lillian?”

Linda’s expression darkened. “That’s the worst part.”

Margaret leaned in.

Linda pulled something from her bag. A birth certificate.

Hannah’s.

Margaret frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Look at the mother’s name.”

Margaret scanned the document. Evelyn Holloway.

Her breath caught. “That’s not possible.”

Linda slammed another document on the table. Another birth certificate. Another supposed daughter. Different names.

But the mother’s name was always the previous wife.

Margaret’s pulse pounded. “What are you saying?”

Linda’s voice was barely a whisper. “Lillian isn’t a child.”

Margaret shook her head. “But she looks—”

“She has a condition,” Linda interrupted. “A rare disorder that makes her age slowly. She’s not sixteen, Margaret. She’s much older.”

Margaret’s vision swam.

Lillian wasn’t James’ daughter.

She was his partner.

And Margaret was next.


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Chapter Nine: The Cage Closes

Margaret drove home in a daze. She needed to leave. Now.

But as she stepped inside, she stopped.

James was waiting.

And he was smiling.

“Where have you been, darling?”

Margaret forced herself to stay calm. “Just out for a drive.”

He nodded. “Good. I worry about you, you know.”

Margaret’s heart pounded. “I think I need to visit my sister for a few days.”

James’ smile didn’t falter, but his eyes darkened. “That’s not a good idea.”

Margaret swallowed hard. “Why not?”

Lillian appeared beside him. “Because we just became a family. And families stick together.”

Something cold slid down Margaret’s spine.

James reached into his pocket and pulled out… her car keys.

“I had your car serviced today,” he said smoothly. “Can’t have you driving something unsafe.”

Margaret’s stomach twisted.

She was trapped.


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Chapter Ten: A Desperate Escape

That night, Margaret knew she had to act. She stuffed essentials into a bag and crept downstairs.

But as she reached the door, a voice stopped her.

“Leaving so soon?”

She spun.

Lillian stood on the staircase, eyes glinting in the dim light.

Margaret’s breath hitched. “I—”

“James won’t like that,” Lillian murmured.

Margaret’s fingers trembled around the doorknob. “Why are you doing this?”

Lillian stepped closer. “Because love lasts forever.”

Margaret bolted.

She yanked the door open, but a hand clamped onto her wrist.

James.

His grip was iron.

Margaret screamed.

Chapter Eleven: The Abyss Stares Back

Margaret thrashed in James’ grip, her pulse hammering against her throat.

“Margaret, Margaret,” he murmured, his voice like silk. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Let me go!” She struggled harder, but he was so much stronger than he looked.

Lillian stepped closer, watching with eerie calm. “You should’ve listened, Margaret. You should’ve let things be.”

Margaret’s blood ran cold.

Then—without thinking—she did the only thing she could.

She bit James.

Hard.

He cried out, loosening his grip just enough. Margaret wrenched free, stumbling back. She didn’t think—she ran.

Through the hallway, past the grand staircase, toward the kitchen.

She needed a weapon. Something—anything—

She yanked open a drawer and grabbed the first thing she saw. A knife.

James followed at a leisurely pace, rolling his shoulders, the perfect husband slipping away, revealing something much darker beneath.

Lillian lingered at the doorway, tilting her head. “This won’t end well for you.”

Margaret gripped the knife tighter. “Stay back.”

James sighed. “Margaret, be reasonable.”

She backed toward the rear door. “I know the truth. About all of them. About her.” She nodded toward Lillian, whose smirk deepened.

James’ eyes darkened.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” he murmured. “I really did love you.”

Margaret’s stomach twisted.

“How can you say that?” she spat.

“Because it’s true.”

The sincerity in his voice made her nauseous.

“But love doesn’t last,” he continued, stepping closer. “Not your kind of love, at least. You would’ve grown tired. You would’ve left. Or worse—you would’ve aged.”

Margaret’s breath hitched.

“That’s what they never understand,” Lillian whispered. “Love should be eternal.”

Margaret felt the walls closing in.

James smiled. “That’s why we make sure it lasts forever.”

She bolted.


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Chapter Twelve: Nowhere to Run

Margaret barely made it to the car before she realized her mistake.

James had taken her keys.

She slammed her fists against the window in frustration. Think, think!

Footsteps.

Slow. Unhurried.

They were coming.

Margaret sprinted for the trees.

The estate sat on acres of land, thick with forests. If she could just reach the road, flag down a car—

A branch snapped behind her.

She turned—just for a second—

And collided with something solid.

Arms wrapped around her, yanking her back.

Lillian.

Her grip was shockingly strong.

Margaret screamed, kicking, struggling—

And then Lillian whispered against her ear, “Shh. It’ll be over soon.”

A sharp prick at her neck.

Cold flooded her veins.

Darkness swallowed her whole.


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Chapter Thirteen: The Wake-Up Call

Margaret woke to the scent of roses.

Soft candlelight flickered around the room.

She was in bed. Their bed.

Dressed in the silk nightgown James had given her.

Her body felt heavy. Her mind foggy.

She tried to move—her wrists wouldn’t budge.

She looked down.

Ribbons.

She was tied to the bed with silk ribbons.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

James sat in the chair beside her, watching. Lillian leaned against the vanity, brushing her hair.

Margaret’s stomach turned.

“Let me go,” she croaked.

James smiled. “I can’t do that.”

Margaret struggled, panic clawing at her throat. “Please.”

“I know this is scary,” he murmured, reaching out to smooth her hair. She flinched. “But I promise, it won’t hurt. Not really.”

Margaret’s breath hitched.

“Why?” she choked out.

James exhaled, looking almost… disappointed. “Because I love you. And love should never end.”

He held up a syringe.

Margaret thrashed. “No! No—”

Lillian sighed. “You always make it so hard.”

James pressed a hand to her cheek, shushing her softly.

“Shh, Margaret,” he murmured. “Just sleep.”

The needle neared her skin—

And she did the only thing she could.

She bit him.

Again.

Harder.

James cursed, jerking back. The syringe slipped from his grasp.

Margaret kicked. Wrenched. Twisted—

The ribbon snapped.

Adrenaline surged through her. She clawed at the remaining restraints, ripping herself free.

James lunged—

Margaret grabbed the bedside lamp and swung.

Glass shattered. James crumpled.

Lillian shrieked, launching herself forward—Margaret grabbed the syringe and jabbed it into her neck.

Lillian’s eyes widened.

She staggered.

Margaret didn’t wait to see the damage.

She ran.


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Chapter Fourteen: The Final Proof

She made it to James’ study, slamming the door shut behind her.

Her hands trembled as she rummaged through the drawers, searching for something—anything—

Then she found it.

A locked box.

She smashed it open.

Inside—

Photos.

Dozens of them.

Women, all smiling. All beautiful.

All dead.

And in every single picture—

James and Lillian.

Never aging.

Never changing.

Margaret’s breath came in ragged gasps.

She grabbed everything. The photos, the papers, the insurance policies. Proof.

A noise outside.

James.

She stuffed the evidence into a bag and bolted through the back door.

She didn’t stop running.


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Chapter Fifteen: The Reckoning

Margaret burst into the police station, wild-eyed, clutching her bag of proof.

She expected disbelief.

Instead—

They listened.

James Holloway was a respected man. But too many wives had died under his care. Too many whispers had been ignored.

And now—

There was proof.

The investigation was swift.

The house—searched. The bodies—found.

James Holloway was arrested.

But Lillian…

Was gone.


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Epilogue: Love Never Dies

Months passed.

Margaret tried to rebuild. She moved far away, started fresh.

But some nights—

She swore she could still hear his voice.

Then one evening—

A news report.

A wealthy businessman in another state. Recently married.

Beside him, his daughter.

Margaret’s blood ran cold.

Because Lillian was smiling at the camera.

And she hadn’t aged a day.


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