Part 7
The two-hour drive into the mountains was suffocatingly quiet. Chris drove with steady, focused precision, the SUV climbing the winding, pine-lined roads toward the Oakwood Retreat. In the passenger seat, Stacy periodically checked her phone. In the back, Natalie and Allison sat at opposite ends of the leather bench, separated by a gulf of shared betrayal and awkward silence.
When they finally pulled through the stone gates of the resort, Chris bypassed the main valet loop. He navigated toward a visitor parking lot flanked by thick, manicured privacy hedges, shutting off the engine near a stone pathway that led toward the spa wing.
“Alright,” Chris said, turning in his seat to look at Allison. “We stick to the plan. You call him, tell him you’re waiting in the courtyard by the spa entrance. Stacy and Natalie and I will be right behind those hedges. We’ll be close enough to hear everything, but out of sight.”
Allison nodded, her face pale. She unclasped her designer handbag, pulled out her phone, and stepped out of the SUV. Her hands were visibly shaking.
Natalie got out on the opposite side, followed by Stacy and Chris. They moved quietly into the deep shade of the tall arborvitae shrubs that lined the courtyard. The afternoon sun baked the flagstone patio, creating a heavy, humid heat.
Through the dense branches, Natalie watched Allison lift the phone to her ear.
“Hey, babe,” Allison forced a lightness into her voice that made Natalie’s stomach turn. “Guess where I am?”
A pause.
“No, I’m right outside. By the spa entrance. Come out and see me.” Allison lowered the phone and slid it back into her bag, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she waited.
Two minutes later, the heavy glass doors of the spa lobby slid open.
Natalie felt Stacy stiffen beside her. Through the leaves, Peter strolled out into the sunlight. He was wearing casual linen pants and a fitted polo, looking relaxed, tanned, and entirely healthy. He walked with an easy, fluid stride. There was no limp, no hesitation, no wheelchair. Lorraine trailed right behind him, carrying a complimentary canvas tote bag and holding a plastic cup of green juice.
Natalie had known he was faking. She had the medical files in Chris’s car to prove it. But actually seeing it—watching the man she had bathed, dressed, and bankrupted herself for casually stroll across a patio—sent a shockwave of cold rage through her system.
“Oh, sweetheart!” Lorraine beamed, rushing forward to hug Allison. “What a wonderful surprise!”
“I needed to see you,” Allison said, stepping back from the older woman’s embrace to look directly at Peter. He didn’t look happy to see her. His jaw tightened, and he shot a quick, nervous glance around the courtyard.
“Al, what are you doing here?” Peter asked, keeping his voice low. “I told you I had to be here with my mom. If Natalie finds out you drove up here…”
“I don’t care about Natalie right now,” Allison said, taking a deep breath. She squared her shoulders. “Pete, I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.”
The words hung in the humid air.
Behind the hedges, Natalie watched her husband’s face. There was no joy. There was no surprise, no rush to embrace the woman carrying his child. Instead, Peter’s features contorted into a mask of pure, irritated panic. He took a step back, dragging a hand down his face.
“Are you serious?” Peter hissed, his voice dropping into a harsh whisper. “Now? You’re pregnant now?”
Allison flinched as if she had been slapped. “What do you mean, ‘now’? We talked about this. You said you wanted a family with me.”
“Yeah, eventually!” Peter snapped, pacing a tight circle on the flagstones. “But the timing is a disaster, Al. I’m just trying to get this auto detailing business off the ground. I don’t have the liquid cash for a kid right now. The overhead on the commercial lease alone is killing me.”
Behind the bushes, Stacy nudged Natalie, her eyes wide. A business? Peter was secretly starting a business while Natalie worked double shifts to pay his mother’s electric bill.
Lorraine stepped in, placing a calming hand on Allison’s arm. “Allison, honey, listen to Peter. You two need a proper financial cushion before you bring a baby into this. A child is a massive expense.”
“He told me he was divorcing his wife,” Allison said, her voice trembling as the reality of the situation began to crush her. “He said as soon as he dropped the papers, we could move on.”
“And I will,” Peter insisted, looking around nervously again. “But you know how unstable she is. If Natalie finds out about the detailing franchise before the divorce is final, she’ll try to take half of it. She’s crazy, Al. If I push her too hard right now, she might do something drastic to herself.”
“Exactly,” Lorraine chimed in, her tone pragmatic and entirely devoid of empathy. “You need to be smart about this, Allison. You said you were willing to sell your condo to help Peter secure the commercial equipment. You should still do that. Once Peter drops the dead weight, you two can move into Natalie’s apartment. It’s a good space for a baby, eventually. But right now, you need to take care of this… situation.”
Allison stared at the older woman in absolute horror. “Take care of it? You want me to get rid of my baby? You want me to sell my home to fund his business, and live in his ex-wife’s apartment?”
“Don’t complicate things, Al,” Peter warned, stepping closer, his tone turning cold. “I need you to be rational.”
Behind the hedge, Chris put a heavy hand on Stacy’s shoulder, keeping her from storming out. But Natalie didn’t need to be held back. Her anger had crystallized into something sharp and precise.
She stepped out from behind the arborvitae and walked onto the patio.
“Pete!” Natalie cried out, throwing her hands up in the air. She forced a wide, brilliant, entirely unhinged smile onto her face. “Oh my God! It’s a miracle!”
Peter whipped around. All the color instantly drained from his face, leaving him looking like a ghost in a polo shirt. “Nat?”
“You’re walking!” Natalie rushed forward, stopping just a few feet away from him. She clasped her hands over her heart, projecting her voice so a passing couple in plush white robes turned to look. “After six months in a wheelchair! The doctors said it was impossible, but look at you! Oh, Pete, this changes everything!”
Lorraine stood completely frozen, the plastic cup of green juice slipping slightly in her grip.
“What… what are you doing here?” Peter stammered, taking a step backward. He looked wildly at Allison, then back at Natalie.
“I came to surprise you,” Natalie beamed, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. She turned to Lorraine. “Lorraine, aren’t you just weeping with joy? We don’t have to live in your guest room anymore. Pete’s cured! We can move back into my apartment tomorrow.”
“Now, Natalie, let’s not rush things,” Lorraine managed to croak, her eyes darting toward the parking lot.
“Rush things? Why wait?” Natalie took another step toward Peter, dropping the smile. Her voice leveled out, crisp and lethal. “In fact, Pete, since you’re fully recovered, we can finally have that baby we always talked about. And don’t worry about the finances for your new auto detailing franchise. I’ve figured it all out.”
Peter’s jaw locked. The panic in his eyes was rapidly shifting into furious realization. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course I do,” Natalie said, turning to look directly at Lorraine. “We don’t need Allison to sell her condo. We can just sell your house, Lorraine. Since you won’t be taking care of Pete anymore, you don’t need all those bedrooms. We’ll use the equity to fund the business, and you can just rent a little studio apartment somewhere.”
“My house?” Lorraine gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “Absolutely not! You will not touch my property!”
“Why not?” Natalie asked innocently. “We’re family, right? We sacrifice for family. Just like I drained my savings paying your bills while your son pretended he couldn’t use his legs.”
The patio was dead silent. Allison watched the exchange, her hand resting protectively over her stomach, tears finally spilling down her cheeks.
“You set me up,” Peter snarled. The charming, helpless facade completely disintegrated, revealing the vicious, calculating man beneath. He glared at Allison. “You brought her here. You stupid—”
“Don’t you dare speak to her like that,” Natalie interrupted, her voice cracking like a whip. “She didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. I have your medical files, Peter. The ones Mike so helpfully showed us before Chris convinced him to step aside.”
Peter’s eyes darted toward the hedge, finally noticing Chris standing there, his arms crossed, his sheer size radiating a quiet, absolute threat.
“I’m filing for divorce on Monday,” Natalie stated, the words tasting like clean water. “And here is the deal you are going to take. You will sign whatever my lawyer puts in front of you. You will walk away with nothing. And if you even try to come after my apartment or my bank accounts, I will take half of that detailing business you’ve been hiding, and I will hand those medical files to the SSDI fraud investigators.”
“You have no right,” Peter hissed, his fists clenching at his sides. “You put me in that car. Everything that happened is your fault!”
“No, it isn’t,” Natalie said quietly. “You ran a red light because you were drinking. And I’m going to prove that, too.”
Peter snapped. The realization that he had lost complete control—that the money, the women, and his carefully constructed lies were all gone in the span of three minutes—ignited a blind, furious tantrum.
“I hate you!” Peter screamed, lunging forward. He didn’t go for Natalie. He spun toward Allison, his face twisted in rage. “This is your fault! You couldn’t just keep your mouth shut!”
He shoved Allison hard in the chest with both hands.
The force of the push sent the pregnant woman stumbling backward. Her heel caught the edge of the flagstone border, and she pitched backward into the resort’s access lane. She hit the blacktop hard, crying out as she twisted to protect her stomach.
At that exact second, a white resort shuttle van came rounding the corner. The driver slammed on the brakes. The heavy tires shrieked against the pavement, stopping mere inches from where Allison lay curled on the ground.
“Allison!” Natalie screamed, sprinting toward the road.
Peter didn’t look at the woman he had just shoved. He turned to run toward the parking lot, but he only made it two steps.
Chris moved with terrifying speed. He closed the distance, grabbed the collar of Peter’s polo shirt, and slammed him hard against one of the heavy stone pillars of the spa entrance. Chris didn’t throw a punch, but he pinned Peter by the throat and the shoulder, his forearm pressing against the man’s collarbone with enough force to keep his feet barely touching the ground.
“Let him go!” Lorraine shrieked, dropping her canvas tote. She rushed at Chris, slapping her hands uselessly against his broad back. “You’re hurting my son! Get your hands off him!”
Natalie looked up from where she was kneeling beside Allison. She stood up, her blood boiling, and marched directly up to Lorraine. She grabbed the older woman by the wrist, pulling her away from Chris.
“If you touch him again, I will have you arrested for assault,” Natalie warned, her voice shaking with adrenaline. “Your son just pushed a pregnant woman into traffic. Look at him, Lorraine. Look at the monster you raised.”
“He was provoked!” Lorraine cried out, trying to yank her wrist free, though she lacked the strength. “You cornered him! You ruined his life!”
“He ruined his own life,” Natalie released the woman’s wrist with a look of utter disgust. She turned back to the road.
Stacy was already on the ground next to Allison, speaking in a calm, soothing voice while dialing 911 on her phone. The shuttle driver had jumped out of the van and was frantically directing the few onlookers to give them space.
Allison was conscious, but her face was ashen, and she was gripping her lower abdomen, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
“The ambulance is three minutes away,” Stacy said, looking up at Natalie. “She’s having cramping.”
Natalie knelt on the hot blacktop, taking Allison’s trembling hand in hers. “Hold on, Allison. You’re going to be okay. Just breathe.”
Within minutes, the wail of sirens echoed up the mountain road. Two sheriff’s deputies arrived simultaneously with the paramedics. Chris handed a struggling, sweating Peter over to the deputies without a word, stepping back to let them do their jobs. Lorraine hovered nearby, crying hysterically and trying to interfere as the deputies handcuffed her son, which only resulted in a stern warning that she would be detained as well if she didn’t step back.
The paramedics carefully loaded Allison onto a stretcher. As they prepared to lift her into the back of the ambulance, Allison reached out, her fingers catching the fabric of Natalie’s sleeve.
“Natalie,” Allison gasped, the pain evident in her tight voice.
“I’m here,” Natalie said, leaning in close.
“My keys,” Allison whispered, her eyes wide and frightened. “They’re in my handbag on the patio. In my apartment… the living room. There’s a large fern by the window. Please. Go water the plant.”
Natalie frowned, confused by the strange, urgent request. “Water the plant? Allison, it’s okay, you don’t need to worry about house chores right now—”
“Just tonight,” Allison squeezed Natalie’s arm, her voice dropping lower. “It’s important. Water the fern.”
The paramedic gently urged Natalie to step back, lifting the stretcher into the rig. The doors slammed shut, and the ambulance sped off down the mountain, its sirens cutting through the heavy summer air.
Natalie stood on the asphalt, watching it go. She turned and walked back to the patio, spotting Allison’s designer bag lying where it had fallen. She picked it up, fishing the heavy keyring from the front pocket.
Stacy walked up beside her, staring at the keys. “Why is she worried about a houseplant right now?”
Natalie looked down at the keys, then over at Peter, who was being shoved into the back of a police cruiser while Lorraine wept on the sidewalk.
“I don’t think it’s just a plant,” Natalie said quietly.