Part 6
Stacy instantly stepped in front of Natalie, her posture rigid, looking like she was ready to pull the pepper spray right back out of her purse. Chris simply leaned against the open trunk of the SUV, his arms crossed, watching the new arrival with a heavy, unblinking gaze.
“I know who you are,” Natalie said, her voice dry and steady. “You’re Peter’s ex-girlfriend.”
“I’m his partner,” Allison corrected, though her voice wavered slightly. She adjusted the strap of her leather handbag, looking entirely out of place on the cracked suburban sidewalk. “And I know you probably hate me, but I need to talk to you. Alone.”
“You want to talk?” Stacy scoffed, her protective instincts flaring. “After you’ve been sleeping with her husband in her own house? Absolutely not. Get back in your car.”
“Stacy, it’s okay,” Natalie said quietly, touching her friend’s shoulder.
“Nat, are you serious?”
“I’m exhausted,” Natalie admitted, and it was the truest thing she had said all day. The adrenaline from the confrontation with Mike was beginning to drain away, leaving her limbs feeling like lead. “But if she came all the way out here, I want to hear what she has to say. Just… stay close.”
Stacy cast a venomous glare at Allison but took a step back, moving to stand next to Chris by the SUV.
Natalie gestured down the block, toward a small, shaded bus stop bench a few yards away. Allison nodded, and the two women walked in silence. Up close, Natalie could see that Allison’s polished exterior was fraying. Her mascara was slightly smudged beneath the rims of her sunglasses, and she was aggressively twisting a silver ring on her index finger.
“I just want to clear the air,” Allison said as they reached the bench. She didn’t sit down, pacing a tight circle on the concrete instead. “I’m not here to fight with you, Natalie. I just want you to stop holding onto him. It’s not healthy for either of you.”
Natalie stared at her. The sheer audacity of the request was almost impressive. “Holding onto him? Allison, before I say anything else, I need to know if you are aware that Peter is faking his paralysis. He can walk.”
Allison stopped pacing. She looked away, staring at the passing traffic. “I know,” she said quietly. “I’ve known since the first week he stood up from that chair.”
A sharp, hollow ache bloomed in Natalie’s chest. The confirmation shouldn’t have hurt—she already had the medical files in her possession—but hearing that Allison was in on the secret felt like a fresh betrayal. Everyone knew. Peter, Lorraine, Mike, Allison. Natalie had been the only one living in the dark, dutifully changing the bedsheets and working double shifts to pay for a lie.
“You knew,” Natalie repeated, her voice remarkably calm. “And you just went along with it.”
“I told him to stop!” Allison said, her defensiveness spiking. She finally sat down heavily on the wooden bench. “I told him it was cruel. But he said he had to play the long game. He said if he admitted he was fine, you would take everything from him.”
Allison reached out and suddenly grabbed Natalie’s hands. Her grip was tight, her palms sweating. “Natalie, please. You have to let him go. I’m pregnant.”
The words hit Natalie with the force of a physical blow. The air in her lungs simply vanished.
For three years, Natalie had wanted a child. She had bought books, tracked her cycles, and carefully brought up the topic on lazy Sunday mornings. But Peter had always shut it down. He insisted they needed a bigger safety net, a better apartment, more savings. He had always claimed he was being responsible. Then the accident happened, and the conversation had died completely.
“You’re having a baby,” Natalie whispered, pulling her hands away.
“Yes,” Allison said, a desperate edge creeping into her voice. “And Peter needs to be with me. I want my child to have a father who is actually present. I know he owes you for what happened in the crash, but you can’t keep blackmailing him like this.”
Natalie blinked, trying to cut through the absolute absurdity of the conversation. “Blackmailing him? What are you talking about?”
“He told me everything, Natalie,” Allison said, tears finally spilling over her lower lashes. “He told me how you threaten to hurt yourself every time he tries to pack his bags. He stays because you can’t have children of your own, and he pities you. He said if he leaves, you’ll take your own life.”
Natalie sat frozen on the bench. The magnitude of Peter’s lies was staggering. He hadn’t just faked an injury to avoid working; he had systematically fabricated an entire narrative where he was the noble, suffering hostage of an unstable, barren wife.
“He tells you that?” Natalie asked, a cold, hard anger beginning to solidify in her veins.
“He has to hide his things at my apartment just to keep them safe from you,” Allison sobbed, pressing a tissue to her eyes. “Please. Just grant him the divorce. Let us start our family.”
“Allison,” a voice interrupted.
Stacy had walked over from the SUV, unable to watch the breakdown from a distance any longer. She stood behind Natalie, crossing her arms. “I’ve known Natalie for thirteen years. She has never once threatened to hurt herself. And the only reason they don’t have kids is because Peter refused to try.”
Allison looked up, her tear-streaked face hardening. “You’re her best friend. Of course you’re going to lie for her.”
“Allison, listen to me,” Natalie said, leaning forward. She didn’t feel anger toward the woman anymore. She just felt a profound, exhausting pity. “I packed my bags today. I’m leaving him. I have the medical files proving he lied about his spine. But if he’s lying to me about being paralyzed, and he’s lying to you about me being suicidal, what else is he lying to you about?”
Allison shook her head stubbornly. “He loves me.”
“Does he even know you’re pregnant?” Natalie asked gently.
Allison hesitated, her eyes dropping to the pavement. “No. I was going to surprise him today. I bought a little pair of shoes. I drove all the way over here, and I asked him to stay so I could tell him. But he said he couldn’t.”
“Because he went to a wellness retreat with his mother,” Stacy finished, rolling her eyes. “A trip that Natalie gave them, by the way.”
“He told me he had to go because Lorraine spent her savings on it,” Allison whispered, the first genuine crack of doubt appearing in her voice. “He said he couldn’t let his mother down.”
Natalie and Stacy exchanged a long look. Peter was effortlessly playing both sides of the board, tailoring his lies to whichever woman was standing in front of him.
Chris walked up behind his wife, keys jingling in his hand. He had been listening quietly from a few yards away. “I have an idea,” he said, his deep voice startling Allison.
“What?” Stacy asked.
“Allison, you want to know if Peter is actually committed to you and this baby, right?” Chris asked, looking down at the woman on the bench.
“Of course I do,” Allison said defensively.
“Then let’s take a drive,” Chris said, gesturing toward his SUV with his chin. “The Oakwood Retreat is about two hours into the mountains. We drive up there. You walk in, pull Peter aside, and tell him you’re pregnant. Don’t tell him we’re there. Don’t mention Natalie. Just give him the news.”
Allison looked at the large man, bewildered. “Why?”
“For a pure, uncontaminated reaction,” Chris explained calmly. “If he’s the man he claims to be, he’ll be thrilled. He’ll tell his mother, and he’ll start making plans with you. But if he’s playing you… his reaction is going to tell you exactly who he really is.”
Allison looked from Chris, to Stacy, and finally to Natalie. She was terrified of the answer, but the seed of doubt had already taken root. She swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay. Take me to him.”
As they walked back to the vehicles, Allison went to move her sedan to a legal street parking spot so she could ride with them. Natalie hung back, catching Stacy by the elbow before they reached Chris’s car.
“Stacy,” Natalie whispered, her mind racing back to the conversation on the bench. “Did you hear what Allison said? About Peter hiding things at her apartment?”
Stacy paused, her eyes widening as the implication landed. “The dashcam.”
“Peter wouldn’t keep the footage in Lorraine’s house if he knew I was there every day,” Natalie said, her pulse accelerating. “He’d keep it off-site. At the apartment of the girlfriend who thinks I’m a suicidal maniac.”
“If he didn’t destroy it,” Stacy murmured.
“We need to get into her apartment,” Natalie said. “But we have to get through this trip first.”
“Get in,” Chris called out from the driver’s seat, rolling down the window. The engine of the SUV roared to life, the air conditioning blasting against the summer heat. “We’ve got a long drive.”