Starting with A Divorce novel (Ainsley and Cason) novel Chapter 630

Chapter 630 Innocent

"I don't know either, Honey," Robyn said as she drew closer to Harold, hoping to share his warmth.

Harold eyed her coldly. ’You were acting strange when Ainsley brought up her father's death. Did you have anything to do with it?"

Robyn shook her head frantically. ’No! What could I have done? He was your brother, and as money-crazed as I am, I'd never stoop so low and kill another man for it!"

Harold assessed her for a long moment, and finally said with a smile, "You're right. You haven’t done anything at all.”

It was only then that Robyn felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around her husband as worry etched upon her face.

It was almost three o 'clock in the afternoon when Robyn went upstairs and woke Matteo up. "Hurry up and get to the living room. We have guests!"

In the next room, Ainsley poked her head out the door, only for Robyn to say icily, "Stay in your room, Aisy. It's not as if you know the guests anyway."

Matteo frowned. "Ainsley is going too. We're all from the Easton family. It's only right that we greet the guests together.’

Just as Ainsley was about to refuse, Matteo walked straight over and grabbed her arm, then led her downstairs.

Meanwhile, Harold had been carrying out small talk with one of the guests. Matteo knew who that man was. It was Jett Glover. There was a woman next to him, and she was none other than Waston, who Matteo had not seen for some time.

In the days they had not seen each other, Waston seemed to have grown more gloomy.

Jett glanced at Matteo worriedly and said, "This is how Ms. Glover has been since her return, Mr. Easton. She hardly talks these days, and she's cooped up in her room all the time. Mr. Glover is worried sick."

Waston tugged on Jett's sleeve and urged, "That's not true, Uncle Jett. I'm perfectly fine in my room."

Then, she flashed Ainsley and Matteo a smile. ’Hello, Matteo and Ms. Easton.’

Ainsley sensed a hint of reluctance in her smile. "Just call me Ainsley."

Waston had helped her out a few times, and Ainsley would love to be friends with her.

Jett's eyes lit up when he registered Ainsley’s presence. ’I heard you were a renowned psychologist, Ms. Easton. It would be great if you could examine Ms. Glover."

Without refusing, Ainsley smiled and said, "In that case, the rest of you can carry on while I bring Ms. Glover upstairs."

Waston obediently stood up and reached for Ainsley's hand. "Seeing as we're going on a first-name basis, you might as well call me Waston. 'Ms. Glover' sounds so stuffy and formal."

Ainsley brought Waston upstairs, and after closing the door behind her, she did not go straight into psycho-babble and instead asked Waston gently, "Waston, I don't think you're distressed as much as you are frustrated.

Would you like to share what's on your mind with me?"

Waston was like a fretful child as she fiddled with the hem of her shirt. She hesitated for a moment, then asked tentatively, "If I tell you, will you promise to keep it a secret from Matteo?"

"I promise," Ainsley replied firmly.

Only then did Waston heave a sigh of relief. She began, ’After I was kidnapped the other day, Kaliyah asked me a few questions. She asked me if Matteo would accept me if I was disfigured or violated. She also asked, if you and I both had knives held to her throats and Matteo could only save one of us, who would it be?"

She paused, then continued, "I told her no for the first two questions, but I don't know how to answer the last one."

"So you've been sulking these past few days and locking yourself in your room to ponder on that question?’ Ainsley asked incredulously.

Waston nodded once, then shook her head afterward. "Yes and no. I know it's such a stupid question and that I shouldn't be affected by it."

"It is but human nature to self-doubt and face existential crises, but once you free yourself of this vicious circle, you'll find that every doubt you've ever had about yourself is nothing more than a joke," Ainsley comforted.