Chapter 8
The trouble started in October.
A woman showed up at the apartment.
I was alone with Will. Logan was at the grocery store.
I opened the door, and there she was.
Tall. Elegant. Expensive clothes. Cold eyes.
"Can I help you?" I asked, holding Will close.
She looked me up and down, her lip curling slightly.
"I'm Margaret Wright," she said. "Logan's stepmother."
My blood ran cold.
I'd heard about her.
Eleanor had married her after Dr. Wright left. She'd raised Logan. And by all accounts, she'd made sure he knew he wasn't her "real" son.
"I didn't know Logan was expecting visitors," I said, keeping my voice steady.
She ignored me, pushing past me into the apartment. She looked around, her nose wrinkled like she smelled something bad.
"This is where he's been living? This is what he threw away his future for?"
She turned to look at me, her eyes cold as ice.
"You're the girl who got herself pregnant, I assume. Trapped him into this… situation."
"I didn't trap anyone," I said, my voice rising. "Logan is here because he wants to be. Because he loves his son."
She laughed. A sharp, bitter sound.
"Love? Please. Logan has always been weak. Always looking for someone to take care of him. First his mother, then me, now you."
She took a step toward me, and I instinctively stepped back, shielding Will.
"You need to leave," I said.
"Or what?" she said, smiling coldly. "You'll call my husband? He's not my husband anymore, you know. We divorced years ago. But I still have connections. I still have influence."
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Logan was meant for better things than this. Better than a waitress and a mistake of a child. And I'm going to make sure he gets what he deserves."
The door opened.
Logan walked in, carrying grocery bags.
He saw Margaret, and his face went white.
"What are you doing here?" he said, his voice tight.
She turned to him, her expression shifting. Suddenly, she looked hurt. Vulnerable.
"Logan, darling. I just came to see you. To see how you're doing. I've been so worried."
Logan put the grocery bags down slowly.
"You have no right to be here. You have no right to talk to Joanna or my son."
"Your son," she said, the word dripping with disdain. "Logan, look at what you're throwing away. Your career. Your reputation. Everything we worked so hard for."
She went to him, reaching for his arm.
"Come home, Logan. Leave this girl and her baby. We can fix this. We can pretend none of this ever happened."
Logan pulled his arm away like she'd burned him.
"This is my home," he said, his voice steady. "Joanna is my family. Will is my son. And you need to leave. Now."
Margaret's face hardened.
"You'll regret this," she said quietly. "You think you can just walk away from everything I built? Everything I gave you?"
She looked at me, her eyes full of malice.
"This isn't over."
She left, slamming the door behind her.
Logan stood there, his hands shaking.
I went to him, putting my free hand on his arm.
"Logan?"
He took a deep breath, turning to me. His face was pale, but his eyes were determined.
"She's not going to hurt us," he said. "I won't let her."
But I could see the fear in his eyes.
May you like
And I knew.
Margaret Wright wasn't going to go away quietly.
