Chapter 90 Chapter 90: Twisted Webs
Chapter 90 Chapter 90: Twisted Webs
GARRISON’S POV
Martha stared at me, stunned, her eyes wide with fresh confusion and hurt. The suitcase sat forgotten at her feet. “What the hell are you talking about?” she demanded, her voice sharp but trembling.
I kept my hands gentle on her arms, desperate not to let her pull away again. The bruise on the back of my head throbbed in time with my racing pulse.
“I received messages last night,” I said carefully, watching her face. “Photos. They showed you with another man. Intimate shots. Texts claimed you were cheating on me, that you had someone in our house while I was stuck in meetings. I rushed home furious, ready to confront you. That is why I said I should be the one who is angry. I thought you had betrayed me first.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. Color drained from her cheeks. “Photos? Of me? Garrison, that is impossible. I have never been with anyone else. You know that.”
“I know it now,” I replied, my throat tight.
In my head, Violet’s smug voice echoed from the haze of last night, the way she had leaned over me after I regained consciousness, whispering her twisted justifications as if she expected me to thank her. She believed she still owned me. She had convinced herself that Martha was the intruder in our lives, that she had fought harder for our marriage even after marrying my father.
Every calculated move, the staged wine glasses, the scattered clothes, the timing right after her public attack on Martha, it all screamed her name. She wanted Martha gone so she could worm her way back in. The realization burned like acid.
I pulled out my phone and opened the messages, handing it to her. My hands shook slightly. “Look. These came from an unknown number, but the timing was perfect. I drove home blind with rage. Then someone hit me from behind the moment I stepped inside and I blacked out. It all makes sense now that Violet set the whole thing up.”
Martha scrolled through the photos, her expression shifting from shock to outrage. She enlarged one image, studying it under the morning light filtering through Rachel’s windows. “These are old pictures from when I was still married to Nicholas.”
She looked up at me, fury sparking in her eyes. “Violet. It has to be her. She attacked me yesterday at lunch, right outside the office building. In front of everyone. She called me a homewrecker, and a conniving whore who stole you from her. She brought up losing your baby like it was my fault.”
The anger that surged through me felt volcanic. I paced a few steps across the living room, clenching my fists to keep from punching the wall.
“And you didn’t tell me about this?” I said, turning back to her. My voice came out rougher than I intended. “Martha, you were supposed to say something when it happened. You promised me, Martha. You promised that you would tell me anything and everything. She is dangerous, and you can’t keep on hiding it whenever she comes to cause trouble.”
Martha set the phone down on the coffee table and wrapped her arms around herself. Tears glistened on her lashes. “I thought I could handle it. I was still raw from the confrontation when I came home and saw you two. It looked so real.”
I closed the distance between us and pulled her into my arms. She stiffened at first, then melted against my chest with a broken sob. I stroked her back in slow, soothing circles, breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo that always grounded me. “I am so sorry you saw that. She staged it perfectly to break you. But she failed. You came back to pack, and I found you. We are still here. Together.”
“What do we do about Violet?” Martha asked after a moment of silence.
“We will have to gather proof,” I murmured against her hair. “Every witness from her public meltdown yesterday, security footage from the building if they will release it, copies of these fake messages. I will confront my father if I have to. He has shielded her long enough. He needs to see the monster she has become, obsessed and dangerous.”
Martha pulled back enough to look up at me, her hands resting on my chest. “Do you really believe we can stop her? She is relentless. And she has resources through your family.”
“I mean every word,” I assured her, cupping her face with both hands. My thumbs brushed away the tears on her cheeks. “You and our baby are my world. I chose you when my father disapproved. I stood by you through every loss and every attack. I will not let Violet or anyone else rip that apart. We face this as a team. No more running. No more hiding pain from each other.”
She searched my eyes for a long moment, then nodded slowly. The tension in her shoulders eased. “I booked a flight this morning. I was ready to disappear and raise our child alone. The thought of it tore me apart, but the image of you with her felt like a knife. Now I see how she manipulated everything. I believe you, Garrison. I believe us.”
Relief washed over me like cool water. I kissed her forehead, then her lips, soft and lingering. The connection between us felt renewed, forged stronger in the fire of another betrayal attempt. We stood there in the middle of our home, holding each other as the morning light grew brighter. Outside, the city continued its rhythm, unaware of the storm we had weathered.
“I packed some things before you found me,” Martha admitted with a weak smile. “Clothes, toiletries, even the ultrasound pictures. I kept touching them, thinking about how this baby needs both of us. But to be honest I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave you here by yourself.”
“And I would have driven to the airport to go find you,” I said firmly. “You are mine for life. No matter where you go I will always go with you. Anyways by tomorrow we will change the locks if we have to. We will install better security. And we will start building our case against her. Every detail matters now. The way she timed her attack after your public clash, the messages designed to lure me home, the knockout blow. It is all evidence of a pattern.”
After a moment of silence Martha whispered; “How about we go somewhere out of the comfort of our home?”
“Where?” I asked, raising my eyebrow in confusion.
Martha pecked my cheek. “A resort.”
I chuckled softly. “Consider it done. Get your things ready and please remember it’s going to be just you and me. No outing, no sight seeing.”
“I’m all packed,” Martha whispered. “All you have to do is to take me away from here.”
Martha slipped her hand into mine as we headed for the door.
The drive to the resort felt different and beautiful. Sunlight glinted off the windshield, chasing away the shadows of the previous night. I kept one hand on the wheel and the other linked with Martha’s.
By the time we pulled into the driveway of the resort, determination had settled deep in my bones. I carried the suitcase inside, and Martha followed close, her steps lighter. We locked the door behind us. In the living room, I turned to her again. “Are you ready for what is coming to get you? Are you ready for me?”