I Pray What You’re Saying Here Today Is True

I Pray What You’re Saying Here Today Is True
Maggie’s nostrils flared just a little. A flash of something ran across her face. Anger. “Oh my God,” she said out loud, more to herself than to him. Then she pushed herself up from the couch but not in an hurry. She stood with the slow, sure motion of someone who takes up space and expects things to move for her.

The agent shifted, clearly relieved. “I'm sorry ma'am just following orders—”

Maggie put her hand on the dresser, brushed a finger along the edge like a caress. “I'll see to it you get punished for this,” she told him in a low threat. "You need to learn."

The agent blinked. He bowed, muttering, “No offense intended, ma’am.” He had the look of a man who had just been handed a live wire and told to hold it steady. He moved toward the door.

Maggie paused a heartbeat. She looked at the agent like one looks at a small piece on a chessboard. She smiled a paper-thin smile. “Come on then,” she said. “Let’s go to my son.”

They left the room. The pink couch caught the last of Maggie’s shadow. The TV weather map slid on, showing a long dry spell. The door closed behind them with a soft, final click.

In the hall, the agent walked a step ahead, then stopped. He waited for Maggie to go first. He kept his posture stiff. He kept his eyes forward. He listened for her breathing like a man listening for a storm to change wind.

Maggie moved like she owned the corridor. She took the long steps you only see on people who never fear space. Her head tilted once, as if she were giving the building the courtesy of a glare. The corners of her mouth lifted in that old, cruel smile. She did not hurry. She had time.

They neared Joseph’s door. The silence in the hallway was thick. The agent hovered at the knob, hand steady on the handle. He turned, brief. “Sir?” he said into his earpiece, then closed the door behind them as they entered Joseph’s room.

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'INSIDE JOSEPH’S ROOM'

The air inside Joseph’s master bedroom was thick with tension even before Maggie stepped in. Her heels echoed sharply against the marble floor as she entered— each tap of her stiletto deliberate, authoritative, almost mocking the silence that hung between Joseph and Susan. She carried herself like royalty, her poise untouched by the gravity of the situation that awaited her.

Her eyes immediately found them— Joseph seated on one side of the long, cream-colored couch, his posture rigid, face unreadable; beside him, Susan sat small and pale, her expression heavy with dread, as though fear itself had taken residence in her bones.

The moment Maggie saw them, she didn’t need anyone to tell her what this was about. The scene said it all— an interrogation waiting to happen.

Stopping in front of them, she placed both hands on her hips, her tone sharp and steady. “I heard you wanted to see me. What’s up?”

Joseph’s eyes didn’t waver. “What happened between you two today?” he asked, his voice low but heavy enough to cut through the air.

“Happened?” Maggie repeated, waving her hand lightly in mock confusion, her face arranged into a perfect picture of innocence. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Joseph shot back, still calm but with that restrained fury in his tone— the kind that warns of an approaching storm.

“Play dumb?” Maggie lifted her brows, feigning ignorance so well that even the walls seemed to believe her. “I’m perfectly lost.”

“Are you?” Joseph pressed again, his eyes narrowing slightly. The intensity of his gaze was unnerving, but Maggie didn’t flinch. Susan, on the other hand, sat motionless, her fingers clenched tightly together on her lap, her lips trembling but sealed.

“What did she say happened?” Maggie asked coolly, turning her gaze from Joseph to Susan as if daring her to speak.

Joseph leaned back slightly, his jaw tightening. His eyes flickered toward his wife. “Tell her what you told me,” he said, voice low and deliberate.

Susan’s head lifted slowly. Her eyes were watery, her face pale. “You confessed to me,” she said, her voice trembling. “You confessed that you were the one who hired those men that attacked me in the woods.”

“What?” Maggie gasped, one hand flying to her chest as though she’d been accused of murder. “Are you serious? When did this happen? Are you sure you’re okay?” Her tone carried that false concern, the kind that dripped of mockery hidden behind gentleness.

“You confessed— don’t lie!” Susan shot back, her words breaking, almost desperate. “You told me yourself when you came to my room! You said it was payback— retribution for your fall from the horse!”

“Me?” Maggie’s tone softened into a whisper, her face twisting into an expression of pure disbelief. “What is all this? What are you trying to achieve, Susan?” She took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “Are you trying to turn my own son against me? Is this your new trick because you can’t stand the bond we share? Is this your desperate attempt to push me out of his life?”

Susan’s tears spilled over. “Of course you’ll lie,” she snapped, voice shaking but full of conviction. “That’s all you ever do.”

“You’re the one lying here,” Maggie fired back immediately, her voice rising. Her gaze was piercing, her words sharp like daggers.

“So, you’re saying you didn’t go into her room and say what she claimed you said?” Joseph interrupted, his tone cold and hard now. His blue eyes burned into hers, unwavering, testing.

Maggie turned to him slowly, her expression calm but calculated. “No, I didn’t say I didn’t go into her room. I did.” She paused deliberately, watching his reaction. “But when I went in, there was a maid attending to her hair. I never said any of the things she’s accusing me of. Not a single word.”

Her voice was smooth, measured— every syllable perfectly placed, a flawless lie.

“You’re lying!” Susan screamed suddenly, rising from her seat. “Swear on your life, Maggie! Swear it!”

“Quiet your mouth,” Joseph said firmly, his voice deep but restrained.

“No! No, I won’t be silenced!” Susan’s voice broke as she cried out, her emotions spilling uncontrollably. “I deserve justice for what she did!”

“Shut your mouth and let me talk, woman!” Joseph’s voice thundered through the room now, commanding, powerful. The walls seemed to vibrate with the force of it.

The outburst silenced Susan. Her breathing came heavy, her face streaked with tears.

Joseph stood up then, his movement slow but deliberate. His towering figure— six foot seven, solid and intimidating— moved toward Maggie until he stood barely a foot away from her. She looked up at him, her five-foot frame swallowed by his shadow, but her eyes, those sharp, calculating eyes, didn’t waver.

“For your sake,” Joseph began, his voice low and dangerous, “I pray what you’re saying here today is true. Because if it isn’t— and I find out that you really did harm my wife…”