Stanton Box Set

She shakes her head as she tries to hold back the tears and drops her head again.

“What are you doing in LA?” I ask into the top of her head.

She shrugs without answering.

“Why are you staying in this terrible place?” I ask as my eyes look around our surroundings, and then it dawns on me.

“Do you have any money, Margaret?” I ask.

She shakes her head in shame. “James has taken all of Joshua’s money and Robert put a stop on all of my accounts.”

“Why are you in LA?” I whisper.

“It’s safer here,” she replies.

I frown. What in the hell is that supposed to mean? I keep watching her. She thinks she’s in danger, but from who?

“Do you think that James Brennan is going to hurt you if you stay in Australia?” I ask.

She fakes a smile. “He’s going to kill me wherever I am.” Her eyes fill with tears. “It’s only a matter of time,” she whispers.

I frown as my blood runs cold. “No, he won’t.” I shake my head. “He’s all talk.”

She smiles at my innocence. “Dear Natasha, always finding the good in people.” She grabs my hand and holds it in hers. “He’s nearly killed me before and next time he will succeed, I have no doubt about that.”

I frown. “When has he nearly killed you?” I’m lost, what the hell is she talking about? Is she having a psychotic episode?

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she whispers as she stands and pulls back the dirty floral curtains to look down at the road.

Fear fills me. This is uncharted territory seeing her like this. “You need to tell me the truth about what is going on right now!” I demand.

Her tortured eyes meet mine as she contemplates my request.

“Enough lies. You told me before that you fell in love with him and that the affair lasted only weeks,” I reply.

“I was telling the truth,” she whispers sadly.

I frown. “Then how is Wilson James’s son also? It doesn’t add up!”

She twists a piece of her jacket between her fingers as she thinks out loud. “Men don’t always need consent to take what they want,” she murmurs.

My stomach drops as my eyes meet her tear-filled ones.

“Tell me,” I whisper.

“I’m a bad person,” she whispers.

I shake my head as I pull her into an embrace. “No, you’re not, Margaret. Nobody is a bad person. You can make bad decisions but that doesn’t mean you are bad.”

She stays in my arms and I know she so desperately needs someone on her side. I can feel it.

“Tell me, please. I will not judge you. Psychologists are a different kind of person, Margaret. We are trained not to judge, we couldn’t do this job if we held judgement. And trust me whatever you think is your worst secret, I have heard worse and then some.” She bursts into full-blown sobs and I know I nearly have her.

“Please trust me,” I whisper into the top of her head.

She pulls back and coldly resolves to tell me.

“The affair happened as I told you. I fell madly in love with him and wanted to leave Robert.” She stares off into space as if she is right there in the moment.