Chapter 26 If you are willing.

Chapter 26 If you are willing.
Nathan stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him with a deliberate quiet. His eyes never left Selina’s face. The smile on his lips was soft, calm, almost kind. It was the kind of smile that left no room for argument, no space for escape.

Behind him, the door opened again, and a man entered. Tall, composed, carrying himself with the effortless authority of someone used to attention. His dark eyes scanned the room once, slowly, before resting on Selina.

“This is Mr. Carlton,” Nathan said smoothly. “He will be helping us understand… everything.”

Selina’s throat went dry. The word “helping” sounded like a lie, like a trap disguised in civility. She pressed her hands against her stomach, trying to steady the sudden surge of panic.

“Good morning,” the man said, voice calm and precise. “I understand this is unexpected. I assure you, my role here is to listen, to observe. No judgments.”

Selina forced herself to nod, though every instinct screamed to run, to hide, to disappear from this room and these walls.

Nathan moved closer, placing one hand lightly on her shoulder. “Sit, Selina. Please.” His voice was patient. Controlling. Sweet, and terrifying all at once.

She sank onto the chair near the window, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Mr. Carlton took the seat opposite, keeping his distance, his posture deliberate and professional. Nathan leaned against the doorframe, silent, observing.

“You’ve been under a lot of stress lately,” Mr. Carlton said after a pause, voice even, neutral. “Sometimes stress can manifest in ways that are… difficult to explain. I’m here to help.”

Selina’s eyes snapped to Nathan. “You brought him here… to… to analyze me?” Her voice shook.

Nathan’s smile widened slightly, but his tone remained calm. “Not to analyze you. To understand. To help us find clarity.”

Clarity. A word that felt like chains.

“I don’t need help,” Selina said, her hands tightening into fists in her lap. “I don’t need any of this.”

Nathan stepped forward. “Selina, please. This is not about punishment. Not exactly. It’s about us. About understanding what’s… happening. You’ve been distant. Secretive. That worries me.”

Her chest tightened. The old familiar fear, the one that had made her obey, hide, and smile while her thoughts screamed, surged back. She wanted to tell Alan. She wanted to run to him, to hide in his presence, to escape the walls Nathan had built around her.

But Alan was far away. He could not intervene now.

“Everything I’ve done,” Selina said quietly, “is my business. Not yours. Not his.” She nodded toward Mr. Carlton. “And certainly not his to control.”

Nathan’s eyes sharpened, the faint warmth disappearing. “Control?” he said softly, but the word held weight. “Selina, I am not controlling you. I am trying to understand the woman I married. The woman I still care for.”

“Care,” she whispered, bitter and sharp. “Your care feels like a cage.”

Nathan’s gaze did not falter. “And yet you have been restless. Sneaking out, avoiding me, lying. I want to know why. That is all.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Selina felt every heartbeat echoing in her ears.

Mr. Carlton leaned slightly forward. “If you are willing, Selina, tell me about your thoughts, your actions, the things you feel you cannot explain. Speak freely. No judgment.”

She shook her head, bitter laughter slipping past her lips. “You think I will confess to a stranger… under the eyes of the man who already suspects everything?”

Nathan’s expression remained steady, but Selina could feel it in the room. Every quiet movement, every subtle tightening of his jaw, measured, precise. He was listening for her reactions. Her weakness. Her truth.

“You have two choices,” Nathan said softly, stepping closer. “You can speak freely. Or you can continue hiding. Neither is without consequence.”

Selina’s pulse pounded in her ears. Her eyes flicked toward the window, toward the freedom outside. The faint light of the morning stretched across the garden, innocent, untouched. And yet the door was closed, the walls too tight, the air heavy.

“I…” Selina began, her voice barely audible. She stopped, the words failing. She wanted to tell the truth. She wanted to scream that Nathan could never know, that Alan was real, that she had chosen a life beyond these walls.

But she could not. Not yet.

Nathan’s hand rested lightly on her chair, a weight that anchored her in place. “Think carefully, Selina,” he said softly. “Every word matters. Every silence is noticed.”

Her hands shook. Every instinct in her screamed to run, to call Alan, to disappear and never return. But she could not. Not while Nathan watched, and not while Mr. Carlton sat there, notebook in hand, pen poised like a scalpel.

Selina closed her eyes and swallowed the panic rising in her throat.

She had survived this long. She could survive a little longer.

But she knew, deep down, that the trap was closing. Every second Nathan waited, every calculated smile, every careful question, brought her closer to a confrontation she could not avoid forever.

And Alan… Alan was far away.

Far away and powerless to stop what Nathan was building in the quiet of the house.

Selina opened her eyes. She looked at Nathan, calm and composed, waiting for her to break.

She would have to be clever.

She would have to survive.

And she would have to lie.