The Marriage Trap: A completely addictive psychological thriller

by Sheryl Browne

  ‘Bring some coffee in, Abbie, would you?’ Fenton addressed her rudely. ‘And pass me Jason’s company file. It’s in the cabinet, under…’ he paused, pondering demonstratively. ‘What’s the name of your company again, Jason?’

  Jason looked at him with a combination of disbelief and disdain. ‘Upwards Online,’ he supplied, as if Fenton didn’t know.

  ‘Ah, yes. More downwards currently, I believe.’ Fenton held his gaze for a second before looking away. ‘Bottom drawer, Abbie, please.’

  His anger bubbling up like mercury inside him, Jason gritted his teeth hard, watching Abbie struggle to extract the file from a filing cabinet behind her without giving Fenton a bird’s-eye view of anything he fancied helping himself to.

  ‘Right. Shall we?’ Fenton said, without even a glance in Abbie’s direction as she handed him the file.

  Half an hour. Jason sucked in a breath, braced himself and walked after Robert as he sailed off down the corridor. Thirty minutes – less, if possible – and he would be out of there. All he had to do was bow and scrape to a complete bastard and his business would be safe. His family’s future would be safe.

  Fenton answered a call as he strode off ahead, much to Jason’s further irritation. He followed a little way behind as Fenton barged into his office and sat behind his desk – the solid mahogany executive variety. ‘Well, find out where the missing funds are,’ he said sharply. ‘Balancing my books is your job, Edward.’

  His accountant, Jason gathered. Obviously not quite so on the ball as Fenton had claimed he was.

  ‘Right, Jason, grab a seat.’ Banging the phone down with an agitated sigh, Fenton nodded to a chair. ‘I won’t keep you long. I’m sure your schedule is as busy as mine.’

  Jason was torn between telling him he’d rather stand and about-facing altogether. Cursing inwardly, he took the seat instead. Fenton knew how he felt. To react would be to do exactly what the man wanted him to.

  Fenton skimmed perfunctorily through the file, closed it and then, finally, looked up at him. ‘I’ve been through the figures with my accountant, Jason, as you would expect me to,’ he said, ‘and, as mentioned, I am prepared to extend you the financial backing you need.’

  That’s very gracious of you. Jason curtailed the contempt already rising inside him, offering Abbie a small smile instead as she came in with the coffee.

  ‘Given certain stipulations.’ Fenton gave Abbie a cursory nod, pushed the file aside to allow her to place the tray on his desk and leaned back in his chair, not bothering to thank her as she slipped back out of the room.

  ‘Which would be?’ Jason tried to read his expression. He’d expected to find the same challenging look he’d seen when he’d tried to buy him out of Karla’s life with an obscene amount of money twelve long years ago, but, strangely, Fenton looked away.

  After an unnerving minute, Fenton got to his feet and walked across to the window, where, hands thrust into his pockets, he gazed out for another interminably long minute before turning back to him. ‘I have something to tell you, Jason,’ he said, his expression pensive. ‘There’s no easy way to say it, so I’m going to say it as it is.’

  Apprehension creeping through him, Jason narrowed his eyes. If he was aiming to put him on the back foot here, it was working.

  ‘I’m not asking you this time, Jason. I’m telling you,’ Fenton went on, his face holding a warning as he studied him carefully. ‘You have to get out of Karla’s life.’

  ‘Right.’ Shaking his head, Jason laughed scathingly and got to his feet.

  He was halfway to the door when Fenton froze him to the spot. ‘You’re related,’ he said.

  FOURTEEN

  KARLA

  Standing outside Jason’s office, I hesitate, wondering again what I’m doing here; what it is I hope to find. I felt shocked after my father’s phone call. John commented that I looked pale as I sat dumbfounded at my desk. I couldn’t quite believe it: that my father would stoop to this. The idea that Jason has been actively searching for women online is ludicrous.

  Is it though, really? I know that Mark sent him that damn profile photograph. The question burning inside me, now, is why? Why were he and Jason discussing online dating sites and near naked women, Jason indicating he liked what he saw, unless they did it regularly? Why would they exchange messages about her? Is it likely it’s just a one-off? And why in God’s name had Jason asked if she had a sister? If it was joke, just ‘laddish banter’, it wasn’t a very funny one, was it, since I’d seen it.

  My heart almost folds up inside me as I acknowledge that he might have been asking seriously. The cold reality is that we haven’t been intimate in weeks, if not months. And last night, Jason couldn’t. Gullible me put it down to stress. Could it be that he’s actually having sex elsewhere? Regularly. Meeting another woman – other women – he’s contacting online?

  It’s preposterous. I know it is. Yet still, sick with nerves and uncertainty, I feel I have to go through with this. If I don’t see with my own eyes, won’t I always be wondering? Much as I’d like to think I could ignore it, I know that I can’t. This will be yet another thing that will haunt me at night.

  Will Mark talk to me, I wonder? I toy with the idea of surreptitiously trying to extract information from him, or even openly asking him, and then abandon the idea. Jason and Mark go back years. Mark would never tell me anything that might betray their friendship.

  Bracing myself, I check my watch. I know exactly where Jason is right now. He’s doing what I begged him to do: ‘selling his soul’ to my father. He doesn’t want to do it. He’ll be feeling utterly humiliated, thinking he’s lived up to my father’s low expectations of him, perceiving himself as having failed in his fundamental obligation as a husband and father to provide for his family. And I’m about to do this.

  Swallowing my deep sense of shame, I close my eyes. I have to do it. I have to know. I can’t carry this around, and I can’t confront Jason with accusations fuelled by my father. I just can’t.

  Attempting to still the nausea churning inside me, I key in the security code, take the stairs and swing into the tiny foyer of Upwards Online. I need to act naturally, be the bubbly me, not this uncertain, wretched creature I suddenly feel I’m becoming.

  ‘Hi, Rachel,’ I smile cheerily at Jason’s marketing manager, who works many more hours than she should, as she comes out of the main office to head for the loo. She’s very young – early to mid-twenties, I guess – and extremely pretty, I notice afresh, and immediately wonder why she pours so many unpaid hours into a company she has no vested interest in.

  Taking a deep breath, I try to shut it out, this suspicion that seems to be blooming into some hideous thing inside me, but I can’t. I am so wound up I can actually feel my heart thrashing against my chest.

  ‘Hi, Karla.’ Rachel smiles easily back. ‘Jase is out, I’m afraid.’

  I notice the familiarity, too. I’m bound to, because of my bloody, bloody father, a man who’s never rated my husband, who’s looked for ways to pull us apart ever since the day he met Jason. Why in God’s name am I listening to him? Because I can’t live with this doubt. As I admit that to myself, I realise part of me believes that my father might be right.

  ‘I know.’ Answering Rachel, I push determinedly on. ‘I’m not after him. I’m after the use of his computer. Job application.’ I offer the most plausible explanation I’ve been able to think of for using Jason’s office. If she or Mark mentions my being here, I can bluff my way through it; tell Jason it’s a better paid job at a rival housing association or something, thus the need for secrecy. I’d rather that than try to bluff my way out of why I would be checking his laptop while he was sleeping.

  ‘Ah, got you.’ Rachel goes for it, assuming I wouldn’t want to apply for other jobs from my work computer, as I’d hoped she would. ‘Good luck,’ she says, behind her.

  ‘Thanks, Rachel.’ The first hurdle over, I push on into the main office, where Mark is seated in front of his c
omputer.

  ‘Hi, Mark,’ I say, my cheery smile still in place. ‘How’s the internet dating going?’ I decide to broach the subject, thinking that, if he has anything to hide on Jason’s behalf, he might hesitate or look slightly sheepish.

  Mark does neither. ‘Interesting,’ he answers straight off, ‘depending on how riveted you are by your date regaling you with tales of her ex-husband’s assignations with other women while weeping into her wine.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ I laugh as he glances despairingly at the ceiling.

  ‘The latest one seems promising though. We’ve got past first base at least.’

  ‘Brilliant.’ I widen my eyes and try to look pleased for him, though my stomach is now churning like a washing machine on full spin. ‘We’ll have to have a meal out together sometime.’

  ‘Yeah, nice idea. Jase isn’t here,’ Mark says, as I head towards the small office Jason uses to entertain clients who might need a little extra ‘chatting up’, as he calls it – and maybe more, whispers Sarah’s mistrustful voice in my head.

  I ignore it. I wondered why he needed the extra office space when he first started up, but when I thought about it, it made sense. Some clients will need the reassurance of a certain level of successfulness, I reasoned. And Jason had thought he could afford it then.

  ‘I know.’ I repeat what I said to Rachel: ‘I’ve snuck out of work to send off a job application. Hope that’s okay with you?’

  ‘No problem.’ Mark stands, stretches and picks up his mug. ‘I’ll grab you a coffee.’

  ‘I’m okay, Mark, thanks. I’ve not long had one,’ I lie. My mouth is dry, my throat parched. I let myself through to the office, close the door, lean back against it and try to do the simplest thing in life and just breathe.

  Jason’s laptop is there, wired up and open on his desk. I wasn’t sure whether he would take it with him, but as he’d said he wanted to consider whatever deal my father might offer him before going through any of the company software with him, I’d hoped he wouldn’t. I would have used the desktop computer, otherwise, or pretended to, whilst going through the paperwork in his drawers.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this. Jason has given me no reason to.

  But he has, whispers Sarah.

  And I realise she’s right. Dad might not like him, but it wasn’t he who first planted these seeds in my head. It was Jason.

  Stop. Steeling my resolve, I pull myself from the door and go straight across to fire up the laptop. I know his passwords. Jason’s never had any reason to hide them from me. If he has now, then won’t my suspicions be as good as confirmed?

  FIFTEEN

  JASON

  His emotions colliding violently inside him, Jason made it out of Fenton’s Bespoke Plumbing and Bathroom Services before he leaned over to retch, bringing up the contents of his stomach. Robert Fenton had to be totally fucking insane. Was he really so consumed with hatred for him that he would resort to this? It was bullshit. It had to be bullshit. Straightening up, he loosened his collar, wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, leaned against the outside wall of the building and slid to his haunches.

  Jesus… Gulping back the bile rising like acid in his throat, he looked skywards and prayed. Please don’t let it be true.

  ‘Jason?’ someone called, as he tried to still his racing heart and get his chaotic thoughts in some sort of order.

  Disorientated, feeling as if he might actually pass out, Jason glanced sideways to see Abbie hurrying towards him.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked him worriedly.

  Jason answered with a tight nod and attempted to lever himself to a standing position.

  ‘Stay. Give yourself a minute,’ she said, passing him the glass of water she was holding.

  His hand shaking, Jason accepted it gratefully, his teeth chinking against the glass as he gulped it back.

  ‘Did he turn you down?’ Abbie asked, after a second. ‘I don’t mean to pry, but I—’

  Jason laughed cynically. ‘No,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘He didn’t turn me down. He’s willing to give me all the financial backing I need.’

  Relieving him of the glass, Abbie looked at him quizzically.

  ‘On one condition,’ Jason added.

  ‘Which is?’ Abbie asked warily.

  ‘Oh, nothing much.’ Pushing himself from the wall, Jason heaved himself to his feet. ‘I just have to walk out of my marriage.’

  ‘What?’ Abbie’s look was one of shock. ‘But…’ She shook her head, bewildered. ‘Why would he…?’

  ‘Because he’s a complete bastard.’ Jason shrugged, offering her a semblance of a smile for the kindness she’d shown him. He actually felt like breaking down and weeping. But he wouldn’t do that. Not here. ‘You might do well to start looking for another job, Abbie,’ he suggested. ‘The man’s toxic.’

  ‘I am,’ she called after him, as he turned to go. ‘And as soon as I do…’

  She would hopefully shop the fucker for sexual harassment, Jason thought, fury smouldering like white-hot lava inside him as he walked towards the car park.

  But it occurred to him, as he climbed into his car, that it wasn’t Fenton who was the bastard, was it. Apparently. Starting the engine, Jason laughed again, sucked in a tight breath, pinched the bridge of his nose hard, then dropped his head to the steering wheel and stifled a cry that came from his soul.

  Go. Desperate for Fenton not to witness any of this, his total and utter humiliation, he pulled himself up sharp, crunched the car into gear, rammed his foot down and screeched away from the premises.

  He drove to his own company almost on auto. He didn’t even realise he’d cut a red light until he was blasted by a horn from the side. His driving was erratic. He was losing his grip – on his life, on his mind. He was losing his family. Fenton had finally won. He’d thrown down the gauntlet years ago, when he’d tried to entice him to walk away. To convince Karla to abort their child: Holly, his beautiful daughter. And Jason had fought. He’d fought hard. He just didn’t have the will to keep fighting him any more, fighting for survival. He couldn’t fight this. He had nothing to fight it with.

  What in God’s name was he going to do? Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, Jason tried to control the fresh wave of nausea rising inside him. What could he do but what Fenton had always wanted? No way. He couldn’t walk away from them. He would not walk away from his children.

  Parked in the car park outside Upwards Online, he braced his hands against the steering wheel and tried to contain his spiralling emotions. Resting his head against the headrest, he stared, unseeing, at the roof upholstery for a long, agonising minute. He’d never contemplated suicide, not in his darkest moments – and there had been some, when he’d wondered as a small child whether anyone could truly love him – but the thought was going through his head now. It was possibly the only way he could leave Karla with her pride intact. Leave his family provided for, via the proceeds of his life insurance. But it would haunt them forever. That reality hit him full on. He had no life any more, but no way out of it either. Robert Fenton really had stuffed him. He’d always aimed to take away what mattered most to him: his family. He’d succeeded. Had it occurred to him, anywhere along the line, that he would be taking away his daughter’s family too? She would be losing her husband, the father of her children. If she found out the truth, she would also be losing her own father. She could never forgive him for this.

  Diana? Did she know about any of this? Jason hoped she didn’t. Prayed, for Karla’s sake, that she didn’t. Because if she did, if she’d kept this information from her, Karla would want nothing to do with her either. And without her mother, she would have no one.

  He needed to go inside. Jason glanced towards his office, where he’d once hoped to build a business that would thrive. He’d never wanted to compete with Robert Fenton as a businessman. It had been Fenton who’d made that part of the war between them. He’d simply wanted to support his family, and have something
to hand down to his son, who showed an interest in computer technology. He’d failed. It was abundantly clear that he had. He would need to let Mark and Rachel know the outcome of his meeting – there would be no injection of cash. It was amusing, really, that Fenton actually thought he could buy his way out of this, throw money at him in exchange for his silence. Jason would keep his secret, for now, because he had to, until he’d worked out what to do. He wouldn’t be bought though. Because whoever he was, he was nothing like the man who prioritised the accumulation of wealth above the people he was supposed to love and care for.

  He suspected Mark and Rachel would insist on sticking with him and continuing to try to keep the company afloat, but he couldn’t allow that. He had no idea how he was going to pay them their salaries beyond another month – two at most. He would have to be honest with them about that aspect of things, tell them to jump ship now before they went down with him.

  Feeling jaded to his very bones, he dragged a hand over his neck and climbed out of his car, reaching for his ringing mobile as he did. It was the major client he’d been hoping to hang on to – had thought he would be able to hang on to, with some funding behind him. He debated briefly and then steeled himself to take the call.

  ‘Jason, hi. Paul Edwards here,’ the guy said, his tone cautious.

  ‘Hi, Paul.’ Jason tried not to sound as desperate as he felt. So, did he tell him that the customer-fronting software he’d promised to deliver within the week wouldn’t be ready? Or did he try to stall – again? The latter, he decided. His children were still his children. He still had to provide for them. He wouldn’t accept defeat until he had to. It would mean working 24/7, but he could at least give it one last shot. ‘Look, Paul, I’m going to be honest, we’re making some headway, but we need a little more time. There are just a few minor problems we need to iron out. Can I call you back on Friday?’ he asked him. ‘I should be able to give you a definite timing by then.’