Coercive Men: Beneath the Surface: Duncan and Isla’s Story

Beneath the Surface: Duncan and Isla’s Story

Chapter 1: The Beginning of Awareness

Isla sat in her car, the engine off, staring at the modern glass building that housed Dr. Matheson’s office. She had been sitting there for fifteen minutes already, her hands gripping the steering wheel as if it might anchor her to an increasingly unstable reality. The week before had been the breaking point—Duncan had humiliated her at their son Noah’s parent-teacher conference, subtly suggesting to Noah’s teacher that Isla’s “constant illnesses” were affecting their home life and, by extension, Noah’s performance at school.

“My wife has a lot of… health issues,” he had said, his voice dripping with concern while his eyes conveyed something else entirely. “I try to keep things stable for the kids, but it has been challenging.”

The teacher had looked at Isla with such pity that she wanted to disappear. She hadn’t been able to formulate a response quickly enough, and by the time she could speak, Duncan had already steered the conversation in another direction, leaving her feeling voiceless—again.

Taking a deep breath, she finally exited the car. Her allergies had been flaring up badly lately—environmental triggers seemed to be everywhere, and she had developed new food sensitivities that made even cooking dinner a complex affair. Duncan had been “supportive” in his way, researching her conditions online and explaining them to their friends, family, and now Noah’s teacher, often before Isla could speak for herself.

As she walked into the building, she felt guilt and resolve. Was she going to talk to a stranger about her marriage? About Duncan? He was a good provider, everyone thought he was charming, and he never missed the children’s events. What right did she have to complain? However, something was not right. It had not been right for a long time.

Dr. Matheson’s office was warm and inviting, with soft lighting and comfortable furniture that looked more like it belonged in someone’s living room than in a clinical setting.

“Isla?” A man in his early fifties with kind eyes and a calm demeanor appeared at the door. “I am Dr. Matheson. Please, come in.”

She followed him into his office, choosing a comfortable armchair by the window. Outside, the trees began changing colour, yellow and orange creeping into the green. Change was coming to the natural world; perhaps it was time for change in her world, too.

“So,” Dr. Matheson said gently after they had exchanged pleasantries, “what brings you here today?”

Isla took a deep breath. “I am not sure where to begin,” she admitted. “I guess… I feel like I am losing myself. Like I cannot trust my perceptions anymore.”

Dr. Matheson nodded encouragingly, and Isla spoke more freely than she had in years. She told him about her marriage to Duncan, how they had met fifteen years ago when she was working as a graphic designer and he was climbing the corporate ladder at a marketing firm, how charming and attentive he had been, how he had seemed to understand her better than anyone.

“When did things begin to change?” Dr. Matheson asked.

Isla thought about it. “I am not sure they ever changed, exactly. It was more like… layers being revealed slowly. After Noah was born, Duncan became very involved in how I was mothering. He would read all these books and would correct me, always with a smile, always ‘just trying to help.'”

She paused, struggling to articulate what had been bothering her for so long. “He has this way of… creating situations where I look incompetent or unstable, especially in front of the children. If I get upset about something he has done, he will turn to them and say, ‘See how Mom gets emotional? We need to be careful with her.’ As if I am fragile or irrational.”

Dr. Matheson nodded. “That sounds very undermining.”

“It is,” Isla said, surprising herself with her certainty. “And lately, with my health issues getting worse, he has taken on this role of… almost my caretaker in public. Explaining my conditions to people, making decisions about what I can and cannot do.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Invisible,” Isla said immediately. “And confused. Because he says all the right things about wanting to help me and loving me, but I feel… controlled. However, everyone thinks he is this amazing husband for dealing with me and my problems.”

Dr. Matheson was quiet for a moment. “Isla, what you are describing sounds like a pattern of behaviour that can be quite harmful. Have you ever heard of coercive control?”

Isla shook her head.

“It is a form of domestic abuse that does not necessarily involve physical violence, but rather a pattern of behaviour that strips away the victim’s sense of autonomy and self.”

Isla flinched at the word “abuse.” “But Duncan has never hit me,” she protested. “He has never even yelled at me.”

“Abuse is not always physical,” Dr. Matheson explained gently. “Sometimes the most damaging forms leave no visible marks at all.”

As their session continued, Isla found herself both resistant to and relieved by Dr. Matheson’s perspective. Could it be that the vague, unsettling feelings she’d been experiencing for years actually had a name? Could it be that she wasn’t just being oversensitive or ungrateful?

“I would like to keep seeing you,” Dr. Matheson said as their time ended. “And I think it might be helpful for you to start keeping a journal of incidents that make you feel undermined or controlled. Sometimes seeing patterns on paper can help clarify what is happening.”

Isla nodded, feeling both lighter and heavier as she left the office. She had taken the first step toward… what? She was not sure yet. However, for the first time in a long time, she felt like she might eventually find out.

Chapter 2: The Patterns Emerge

Over the next few weeks, Isla continued her sessions with Dr. Matheson while keeping the journal he had suggested. At first, she felt guilty documenting Duncan’s behaviour, as if she were betraying him somehow. However, as the pages filled, specific patterns became impossible to ignore.

At Emma’s ballet recital, Duncan had “helpfully” informed the other parents about Isla’s new food allergies, roaring, “We have to be so careful with what she eats now. The smallest thing can set her off. It is exhausting, but what can you do? In sickness and in health, right?” The sympathetic looks she had received had made her skin crawl.

There was the family dinner where Isla disagreed with Duncan about whether to send their younger daughter Lily to a different school. He sighed deeply before turning to the children and saying, “Mom’s getting worked up again. Let us all stay calm, okay?”

And there was the time last week when her mother called, concerned because Duncan had mentioned that Isla was “having one of her bad days” and might need extra support—on a day when Isla had felt perfectly fine until that phone call.

As she sat in Dr. Matheson’s office for their fourth session, Isla felt a strange clarity and confusion.

“I can see these patterns now,” she said, gesturing to her journal. “But I still do not understand why. Why would he do these things? He seems so concerned, so devoted.”

Dr. Matheson leaned forward slightly. “Based on what you have shared, Duncan seems to gain something from positioning himself as your caretaker, the stable, reliable parent in contrast to your supposed instability. It gives him control, and perhaps more importantly, status—the heroic husband dealing with a difficult situation.”

Isla thought about this. It made a certain sense, but it still felt wrong to attribute such calculated motives to Duncan. Didn’t that make her the suspicious, paranoid one?

“I have been thinking,” Dr. Matheson said carefully, “that it might benefit Duncan to join us for a session or two. Sometimes bringing these dynamics into the open, in a controlled environment, can lead to real change.”

Isla felt a flutter of anxiety at the suggestion. “He will not come,” she said with certainty. “He does not believe in therapy. He thinks it is for people who cannot handle their problems alone.”

Dr. Matheson nodded. “That is not uncommon. Nevertheless, perhaps if you frame it as something that would help you and ease his burden?”

The strategy worked better than Isla had expected. When she suggested to Duncan that evening that he join her for a therapy session, framing it as something that would help her “get better” and ease his load as her supporter, he had agreed almost immediately.

“Of course I will come,” he said, squeezing her hand gently. “I will do anything to help you get well. You know that.”

The joint session was scheduled for the following week. As the day approached, Isla found herself increasingly anxious. What would happen when these subtle dynamics she had been documenting were brought into the open? Would Duncan deny them? Would Dr. Matheson see the charming, concerned husband that everyone else saw?

When the day finally arrived, Duncan was the perfect picture of a supportive spouse. He held the door for Isla, spoke respectfully to Dr. Matheson, and sat attentively, his body language open and engaged.

“Thank you for joining us, Duncan,” Dr. Matheson began. “Isla has been doing some important work here, and I think having you as part of the conversation could be very beneficial.”

Duncan nodded, placing his hand on Isla’s knee. “Anything to help my wife,” he said earnestly. “She has been struggling for so long.”

Isla felt a familiar tightness in her chest at his words. There it was again—the narrative of her as the broken one and him as the supportive husband.

Dr. Matheson seemed to notice her reaction. Duncan, Isla has been sharing concerns about specific patterns in your relationship. Specifically, about ways in which she feels undermined or portrayed as unstable, particularly in front of your children.”

Duncan’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly, a flash of something cold in his eyes before the concerned look returned. “I am sorry to hear that,” he said, turning to Isla. “I had no idea you felt that way. I have only ever tried to help you.”

“I know you have,” Isla said softly, fighting the familiar urge to backtrack and apologise for bringing it up. “But sometimes the way you talk about me to others or react when I disagree with you… it makes me feel like you are painting me as irrational or incompetent.”

Duncan’s expression hardened slightly. “I think you are misinterpreting my intentions,” he said. “If I seem overprotective, it is because I worry about you. Your health has been so unpredictable lately.”

“That is another concern Isla has raised,” Dr. Matheson interjected. “She feels that her health issues have become a narrative that defines her in your family dynamic.”

“Well, they affect all of us,” Duncan said, a defensive edge entering his voice. “The kids need stability, and with Isla’s condition being what it is—”

“My condition?” Isla interrupted, surprising herself with her assertiveness. “Duncan, I have allergies. They are inconvenient, yes, but you talk about me like I am chronically ill.”

Duncan sighed, his expression a perfect mixture of patience and weariness. “See, this is what I am dealing with,” he said to Dr. Matheson. “She downplays her symptoms, pushes herself too hard, and then I am the bad guy for trying to protect her.”

The session continued in this vein, with Duncan skillfully positioning himself as the concerned, slightly put-upon husband while subtly reinforcing the narrative of Isla as unreliable and possibly in denial about her condition.

By the end, Isla felt drained and confused. Had she imagined the patterns she had been seeing? Was she being unfair to Duncan?

As they were leaving, Dr. Matheson asked if he could speak to Isla alone for a moment. Duncan agreed readily, saying he would wait in the car.

Once he was gone, Dr. Matheson turned to Isla. “What you experienced in that session—the way he turned your concerns back on you, the way he positioned himself as the responsible one—that is a textbook example of gaslighting and emotional manipulation.”

Isla felt a wave of relief wash over her. She hadn’t imagined it; someone else had seen it, too.

“What do I do?” she asked quietly.

“We keep working,” Dr. Matheson said. “And I would like to suggest something that might help clarify, both for you and potentially for any legal proceedings.”

“Legal proceedings?” Isla repeated, alarmed.

“I am not saying that is where this is heading,” Dr. Matheson clarified. “But having documentation can be valuable. I suggest a psychological assessment for Duncan—specifically, the Millon Clinical Multiaxial Inventory. It is a comprehensive test that could provide insights into his personality structure and potential disorders.”

“He will never agree to that,” Isla said immediately.

Dr. Matheson smiled slightly. “You might be surprised. From what I observed today, Duncan is very invested in proving that he is the reasonable, stable one in this relationship. Suggesting that taking the test would help ‘get to the bottom of the family issues’ might appeal to that narrative.”

As Isla walked to the car, she felt a strange sense of determination taking root. She was beginning to trust her perceptions again for the first time in years. Moreover, that, she realised, was the first step toward reclaiming her life.

Chapter 3: The Test

As Dr. Matheson had predicted, convincing Duncan to take the Millon test was not as tricky as Isla had anticipated. As the therapist suggested, the key was framing it as a way to objectively assess the family dynamics and help Isla with her “issues.”

“Dr. Matheson thinks it would be helpful if we both took this personality assessment,” Isla had said carefully over dinner one evening, after the children had gone to bed. “He says it could give us insights into how we interact and why we sometimes have these misunderstandings.”

Duncan had looked skeptical at first. “A personality test? That sounds a bit pop psychology, doesn’t it?”

“It is quite scientific,” Isla had replied, trying to keep her voice casual. “And Dr. Matheson said it would be beneficial for me to see how our personalities might be… clashing in ways we do not realise.”

There was that calculated shift in Duncan’s expression, the one she was becoming increasingly attuned to—a slight softening, a taking on of the role of the patient, supportive husband. “Well, if it will help you, I will do it. Though I doubt it will tell us anything we do not already know.”

A week later, they had both completed the assessment. Isla’s results showed what Dr. Matheson had expected—heightened anxiety and some depressive tendencies, but otherwise a standard psychological profile. Duncan’s results, however, were still pending.

In the meantime, life at home had taken on a strange, tense quality. Since beginning therapy, Isla had been subtly changing her responses to Duncan’s manipulative behaviours. Instead of questioning herself when he made undermining comments, she would calmly state, “That is not accurate, Duncan,” or “Please do not speak for me.” The children had noticed the shift, particularly Noah, who was twelve enough to perceive the undercurrents in his parents’ relationship.

“Mom, are you and Dad getting a divorce?” he had asked one evening as Isla was helping him with his homework.

The question had caught her off guard. “Why would you ask that, sweetheart?”

Noah had shrugged, keeping his eyes on his math textbook. “You seem different. Like you are not scared of him anymore.”

His words had hit Isla like a physical blow. Had her fear been so evident that even her children had sensed it? Moreover, what did that mean about the environment she had allowed them to grow up in?

“Noah,” she had said carefully, “I want you to know that whatever happens between me and your dad, we both love you and Emma and Lily more than anything. Moreover, you must know that people should treat each other respectfully and kindly in relationships.”

Noah had nodded, seeming relieved by her calm response. “I know, Mom. And… I am glad you are standing up for yourself more.”

The conversation had left Isla shaken but more determined than ever to understand exactly what she was dealing with in her marriage. That was why, when Dr. Matheson called to say that Duncan’s test results were in and that he wanted to discuss them with her privately, she felt both dread and a strange sense of validation.

At their next session, Dr. Matheson’s expression was solemn as he handed Isla a folder.

“These are Duncan’s MCMI-IV results,” he explained. “The Millon Clinical Multiaxial Inventory is designed to identify personality disorders and clinical syndromes. I want to go through this with you, as it may help explain some of the behaviours you have been experiencing.”

Isla opened the folder, her heart racing as she looked at the complex charts and numbers.

“What am I looking at?” she asked.

Dr. Matheson pointed to several highlighted sections. “Duncan’s profile shows significant elevations in several concerning areas. Primarily, he has strong indicators for Borderline Personality Disorder, Dependent Personality Disorder, Antisocial Personality Type, and what we call a Negativistic Personality Type.”

“What does all that mean?” Isla asked, feeling overwhelmed by the technical terminology.

“In essence,” Dr. Matheson explained, “it suggests that Duncan has a personality structure characterised by emotional instability, fear of abandonment, manipulative tendencies, and passive-aggressive behaviours. The combination of borderline and antisocial traits is particularly concerning, as it can manifest as a person who is both emotionally volatile and calculated in their manipulation of others.”

Isla felt a cold wave of realisation wash over her. “So, I am not crazy,” she whispered. “The things I have been experiencing—the way he twists situations, makes me doubt myself, portrays me as unstable to others—there is something clinically wrong with him?”

“Yes,” Dr. Matheson confirmed gently. “And there is more. The test also indicates clinical syndromes including Major Depression, Somatic Symptom Disorder, and Adjustment Disorder with Anxiety. In layman’s terms, this suggests Duncan is experiencing significant psychological distress that he may be projecting onto you.”

“The allergies,” Isla said suddenly. “My increasing allergies and health issues—could they be related to the stress of living in this environment?”

Dr. Matheson nodded. “It is entirely possible. Chronic stress can manifest in physical symptoms, including heightened immune responses and sensitivities.”

“So, what do I do with this information?” Isla asked, feeling both clarified and overwhelmed.

“That is entirely up to you,” Dr. Matheson replied. “But I want to be clear: the combination of personality traits indicated in these results suggests someone unlikely to change significantly without intensive long-term therapy—therapy they would need to want genuinely. And based on my interaction with Duncan, I do not believe he sees himself as having a problem.”

“He doesn’t,” Isla confirmed. “He thinks he is the stable one, the one holding everything together while dealing with my ‘issues.'”

“Which is consistent with this profile,” Dr. Matheson noted. “Individuals with these traits often position themselves as victims or heroes while being the source of dysfunction.”

Isla closed the folder, her mind racing. “I need to think about what this means for me. For my children.”

“Of course,” Dr. Matheson said. “But Isla, I want to express my concern for your well-being and your children. I have worked with many couples over the years, and the patterns you have described, combined with these test results, represent one of the more severe cases of psychological abuse I have encountered.”

Isla looked up sharply. “Abuse?”

“Yes,” Dr. Matheson said firmly. “What you have described—the undermining, the gaslighting, the public humiliation, the controlling behaviours—constitutes psychological abuse. And the impact on your children, particularly as Noah has already indicated his awareness of the dynamic, is significant.”

Isla sat in silence for a long moment, absorbing this perspective. Finally, she nodded. “Thank you for being direct with me. I think I have needed someone to name what has been happening.”

“What are you thinking about next steps?” Dr. Matheson asked.

“I need to protect my children,” Isla said, surprising herself with clarity. “And myself. I do not think I can continue in this marriage.”

“That is a significant decision,” Dr. Matheson acknowledged. “And if you decide to leave, having a solid support system and safety plan in place will be crucial.”

“Safety plan?” Isla echoed. “Do you think he would… hurt us?”

Dr. Matheson chose his words carefully. “I cannot predict how Duncan might react to losing control of the narrative and the relationship. But individuals with this psychological profile often react very poorly to perceived abandonment. It would be prudent to have precautions in place.”

As Isla left Dr. Matheson’s office that day, she felt fear and resolve. The test results had confirmed what her instincts had been telling her for years—that there was something deeply wrong in her marriage, and it was not her fault. The path ahead would be difficult, but she could see one for the first time in a long time. A path toward freedom, healing, and a life where she and her children could breathe freely without walking on eggshells and without the constant undermining of their reality.

At home, she slipped the folder with Duncan’s test results into her growing file of documentation—the journal entries, the recordings of particularly manipulative conversations, and the emails to Noah’s teacher portraying Isla as unstable. Together, they painted a picture not just of an unhappy marriage but of a deliberate, systematic campaign to control and diminish her.

That night, as Duncan slept beside her, Isla made her decision. She would leave, taking the children with her. She would reclaim her life, her identity, and her truth. The road ahead would be challenging, but she was stronger than Duncan had led her to believe—much stronger.

Chapter 4: The Turning Point

The morning after receiving Duncan’s test results, Isla woke early, a sense of clarity and purpose filling her mind. She slipped out of bed before Duncan stirred, padding to the kitchen where she made coffee and sat at the island counter, mentally mapping out what needed to be done.

First, she needed a safe place for herself and the children to go. Her sister Megan lived about an hour away—far enough to provide some buffer, close enough to be practical. Then there were legal considerations: documentation, custody arrangements, financial planning. Dr. Matheson had referred her to a lawyer who specialised in high-conflict divorces involving psychological abuse, and Isla had already scheduled a consultation for later that week.

As she contemplated these steps, Emma wandered into the kitchen, her hair tousled from sleep, clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit.

“Mommy?” the eight-year-old asked sleepily. “Why are you up so early?”

Isla smiled, opening her arms for Emma to climb onto her lap. “Just thinking, sweetheart. Sometimes mommies need quiet thinking time.”

Emma settled against her, warm and trusting. “About what?”

Isla hesitated, unsure how much to share with her daughter. “About some changes that might be happening soon.”

“Good changes or bad changes?” Emma asked, her voice small.

“Changes that might be hard at first, but that I think will be good for all of us in the end,” Isla replied carefully.

Emma seemed to consider this. “Like when I had to get used to my new school, but now I love it?”

Isla hugged her daughter tighter. “Something like that, yes.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Emma spoke again. “Mom? Is it because of how Dad makes you sad sometimes?”

Isla’s breath caught. Like Noah, Emma had been observing more than Isla had realised. “What makes you think Dad makes me sad?”

Emma fidgeted with her rabbit’s ears. “Sometimes you look scared when he talks to you. And sometimes he says mean things about you to us when you are not there.”

A cold tingle ran down Isla’s spine. “What kind of things, sweetie?”

“Like how we must be careful not to upset you because you are fragile. Alternatively, how you forget important things because you are not well.” Emma looked up at Isla. “But you do not seem fragile to me. You seem strong.”

Tears pricked at Isla’s eyes. “Thank you, Emma. That means a lot to me.” She took a deep breath. “And you are right. I am strong. Stronger than I have let myself believe for a long time.”

The sound of movement upstairs signalled that Duncan was awake. Emma slipped off Isla’s lap, heading to the pantry for cereal, and the intimate moment dissolved into the routine of a family morning—lunches packed, backpacks checked, children shepherded to the bus stop.

Duncan was in rare form that morning, especially solicitous of Isla. “Are you feeling alright today, honey?” he asked, his voice pitched just loud enough for the children to hear. “You were very restless last night. I was worried you might be having one of your episodes.”

In the past, Isla would have second-guessed herself, wondering if she had indeed been unusually agitated or if there were signs of an “episode” she hadn’t recognised. Now, armed with the insights from therapy and the concrete evidence of Duncan’s psychological profile, she could see the comment for what it was—another attempt to reinforce the narrative of her instability.

“I slept fine, Duncan,” she replied calmly. “And I do not have ‘episodes.'”

A flash of something—annoyance? Concern?—crossed Duncan’s face before his expression settled back into one of patient concern. “If you say so, dear. I am just looking out for you.”

After the children had left for school and Duncan for work, Isla called her sister.

“Megan? It is me. I need to talk to you about something important.”

An hour later, Isla explained the situation to her sister, who responded with unwavering support.

“I have never liked how Duncan treats you,” Megan admitted. “But I did not know how to bring it up. He is convincing when he talks about how concerned he is for you.”

“That is part of the pattern,” Isla explained, repeating what she had learned from Dr. Matheson. “He creates a narrative where he is the hero, the stable one dealing with his troubled wife. And he has been doing it for so long that I almost believed it myself.”

“Well, I’m glad you see it now,” Megan said firmly. And yes, you and the kids can stay with me—as long as you need.”

The rest of the week passed in a blur of careful planning. Isla met with the lawyer, who advised her to gather financial documents, establish separate accounts, and prepare for potential custody challenges.

“Given the psychological assessment and the documentation you have kept, we have a strong case,” the lawyer assured her. “But be prepared—individuals with borderline and antisocial traits often become extremely vindictive when they feel they are losing control.”

Isla also had another session with Dr. Matheson, focusing on strategies for telling the children and managing the transition.

“Be honest, but age-appropriate,” he advised. “Children are remarkably perceptive, as you have already seen with Noah and Emma. They know something is wrong and have been affected by the dynamic whether you realise it or not.”

“What if Duncan tries to turn them against me?” Isla asked, voicing one of her deepest fears. “He is so good at manipulating perceptions.”

“That is a valid concern,” Dr. Matheson acknowledged. “But from what you have told me, your children have already begun to see through the façade. The most important thing is to provide them with stability, consistency, and honesty—all things lacking in their home environment.”

The day Isla had chosen to leave, a Saturday when Duncan would be golfing with clients until late afternoon, arrived with a strange sense of inevitability. She had packed essentials for herself and the children, secured important documents, and arranged for Megan to meet them at a nearby park.

As she was finalising, Noah found her in her bedroom, quietly placing photographs in a small box.

“We are leaving, aren’t we?” he asked directly.

Isla looked at her son—so perceptive, so profound for his twelve years—and nodded. “Yes. Today.”

Instead of looking upset, Noah seemed relieved. “Good,” he said. “I will help with Emma and Lily.”

Isla pulled him into a hug, tears threatening to spill. “When did you get so grown up?”

Noah shrugged against her. “I have had to be. Dad… he makes things hard.”

“I know,” Isla said softly. “And I am sorry I did not see it sooner.”

“It is okay, Mom,” Noah said with a maturity that broke Isla’s heart. “You see it now.”

The actual leaving went more smoothly than Isla had dared hope. She gathered the children, explained in simple terms that they were going to stay with Aunt Megan for a while because Mom and Dad needed some time apart, and drove to the park where Megan was waiting. Of course, there were questions, especially from five-year-old Lily, but the older children helped keep things calm.

It was not until that evening, when the children were settled in Megan’s guest rooms and Isla finally checked her phone, that the storm broke. Fifteen missed calls from Duncan. Dozens of text messages ranging from concerned (“Where are you? Are you okay?”) to angry (“I cannot believe you would do this”) to manipulative (“The children must be so confused and scared”).

As she was reading through them, the phone rang again. Duncan.

Taking a deep breath, Isla answered. “Hello, Duncan.”

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” His voice was controlled but vibrating with anger. “Running off with my children without a word?”

“I left you a letter,” Isla said calmly, referring to the detailed explanation she had placed on their bed. “And the children are safe. They are with me.”

“You are in no state to be making decisions like this,” Duncan said, his tone shifting to one of exaggerated concern. “You have been so unstable lately. The children need stability, Isla. They need to come home.”

“They are with me,” Isla repeated firmly. “And I can make decisions for myself and my children.”

There was a pause, then Duncan’s voice took on a harder edge. This is about that therapist. He has been filling your head with nonsense.”

“Dr. Matheson has helped me see things clearly,” Isla replied. “Including the results of your psychological assessment.”

Another pause, longer this time. “That test was meaningless,” Duncan finally said. “A bunch of pop psychology questions that could be interpreted any way.”

“The Millon is a scientifically validated assessment,” Isla countered. “And it confirmed what I have been experiencing for years—that you have been systematically undermining me, gaslighting me, and creating a false narrative about my stability and competence.”

“This is absurd,” Duncan sputtered. “I have done nothing but support you through your issues—”

“My ‘issues’ are largely a result of living in a psychologically abusive relationship,” Isla interrupted, surprising herself with her firmness. “And it stops now, Duncan. I have filed for divorce and temporary custody of the children. My lawyer will be contacting you.”

“You cannot do this,” Duncan said, his voice now openly threatening. “No one will believe you. Everyone knows how fragile you are and how I have been holding everything together. I will fight you for the kids, Isla. And I will win.”

“We have documentation,” Isla replied, staying calm despite her racing heart. “The psychological assessment, my journal of incidents, recordings of your manipulative behaviours. Dr. Matheson is prepared to testify about the pattern of abuse. So yes, Duncan, I can do this. And I am.”

She ended the call, hands shaking but mind clear. There would be difficult days ahead—she had no illusions about that. Duncan would not surrender control easily. He would likely escalate his efforts to portray her as unstable, turn others against her, and perhaps even manipulate the children.

But for the first time in fifteen years, Isla felt in control of her narrative. She had seen the truth of her situation, named it, and taken action to protect herself and her children. The road to healing would be long, but she had taken the first, crucial steps.

Later that night, as she checked on the sleeping children in their temporary beds, Isla felt a profound sadness and hope. Sad for the years spent doubting herself, for the harm Duncan’s manipulation had caused to all of them. But hopeful too—for a future where she could rebuild her confidence, where her children could grow up in an environment free from psychological manipulation, where the constant fog of gaslighting and emotional abuse would finally lift.

Emma stirred as Isla tucked the blanket around her. “Mom?” she murmured sleepily.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Are we going to be okay?”

Isla brushed the hair from her daughter’s forehead, her heart full. “Yes, Emma. We are going to be okay. Better than okay. We are going to be free.”

Epilogue: Six Months Later

The sun streamed through the windows of Isla’s small but comfortable apartment, which she now called home with her children. It had been six months since they had left Duncan, six months of challenges, healing from legal battles, and emotional growth.

The divorce proceedings were ongoing, but Isla had been granted primary custody of the children, with Duncan allowed supervised visitation—a restriction implemented after he had attempted to convince Noah to secretly record conversations with Isla, looking for evidence of her “instability.”

Dr. Matheson’s testimony had been crucial in establishing the pattern of psychological abuse, with Duncan’s Millon profile serving as a cornerstone of the evidence. The court-appointed evaluator had also noted concerning behaviours during Duncan’s interactions with the children, particularly his tendency to subtly undermine Isla’s authority and portray her as emotionally fragile.