She Was Never Just the Billionaire’s Wife (Natasha and Chase) novel Chapter 66

Chapter 66 Doctor/Patient

(Sonia)

Dr. Reeves has rearranged the chairs since last week.

A small thing. Probably meaningless.

But I notice it the moment I walk in, and I spend the first ten minutes of our session deciding whether it was deliberate.

By the end of those ten minutes, I’ve decided it was.

She’s moved them so we sit at a slight angle to each other rather than directly opposite.

Friendlier, in theory. Less confrontational.

Except that the new angle means she can see my profile when I look away, which I do when I’m thinking, which means she’s watching me when I think she isn’t.

I adjust. She won’t get the better of me.

“How has the week been?” Dr. Reeves asks.

“Better,” I say, with a small, brave smile.

“Some moments are still very hard. But I’m trying to focus on moving forward.”

She nods slowly.

“What does moving forward look like for you, Sonia?”

“Accepting the reality. Letting people support me. Trying not to isolate.”

I researched the correct answers.

These are absolutely perfect.

She writes something on her notepad and I resist the urge to lean forward and read it.

We talk about Chase for a while, which I steer us toward because it’s the safest ground.

I know my lines here.

“How did the two of you meet?” Dr. Reeves asks.

And here’s the thing about this woman.

The question sounds casual. Warm, even. Like she’s simply interested.

I answer it because refusing would look strange.

“On the beach,” I say. “A charity event in Malibu. He saw me from across the sand and came straight over.”

I let a soft smile settle on my face at the memory.

“He said later that something about me stopped him in his tracks. That he felt like he already knew me somehow.”

What I don’t say is that I have since had a great deal of time to think about that moment.

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Chase was standing at the water’s edge when he turned and saw me.

e light was behind me.

My hair was loose.

I was wearing a white dress and standing on a flat tuck with the ocean at my back.

He crossed the beach like a man walking toward something he’d been looking for.

At the time I thought it was me.

It took me considerably longer to understand that it was never me he was walking toward.

It was a memory he didn’t fully recall.

Only once I started digging into his past with the help of a private detective did the reality hit me.

It’s what led me to the reality of Natasha’s true identity.

Chase was seeing a girl on a beach from years ago, standing in almost exactly the same spot, with almost exactly

the same hair.

Natasha.

The thought sits in me like something toxic.

I smile sweetly at Dr. Reeves and keep going.

The session wraps at the fifty-minute mark and I’ve hit every note I was aiming for.

Grief, stage three. Recovery, early signs. Insight, cautious but present.

Obviously not well enough to be alone, but not so crazy with grief I need to be locked up.

Dr. Reeves closes her notepad.

Before she can stand, I ask the question that won’t stop bothering me.

Despite her reassurance last time, and all the information I could find online, I’m still worried she’s going to unearth the truth and blast my secrets wide open.

Because some of my actions don’t just skate the edge of illegal. They full on wallow in it.

Legally she should keep her mouth shut, since I’ve already done the bad things and nobody died, but what if?

“You said everything I say here stays between us.”

“That’s correct,” Dr. Reeves says. “Complete confidentiality, with the limited exceptions I outlined in our first session.”

“And those exceptions are only in cases of serious, immediate risk.”

“That’s right.”

“So even things that might be…complicated. Or that other people might misunderstand.”

She looks at me for a moment.

“Everything said in this room is private,” she says pleasantly. “That’s not conditional. You really can tell me

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anything, Sonia.”

emile. “Of course. I just needed to hear it again.”

She smiles back.

That smile does not reassure me at all.

Nathanial is waiting in the hall outside.

This is the last thing I need.

“I didn’t ask you to come,” I tell him, pulling the door shut behind me.

“I know.” He falls into step beside me. “I wanted to see how you are.”

“I’m fine. The therapist is helping enormously.”

He looks at me sideways.

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