Chapter 63: A Cage Without Walls!

Saintilia’s POV

I remembered what he had said to me in those first days,

"If you think you can run, I will find you, Saintilia. Wherever you go, whoever you turn to, I will find you."

At the time, I had thought it was simply a threat designed to frighten me into submission. Now I understood it was a statement of fact. He had built a cage that extended far beyond the walls of his house.

Therefore, the only path to true opportunity was to make Emilio believe his control was absolute and flawless. I needed to move beyond suspicion and into the territory of complete, unquestioning trust. By cultivating the perfect illusion of acceptance, I hoped to eventually bore his network into complacency.

Patience had become my virtue. Only when the watchers grew lazy, convinced of their victory, would I have the necessary window to execute my plan. And for that, I needed time. I needed to become so predictable, so docile, so utterly uninteresting that they would stop watching me with the same intensity.

The village Emilio belonged to was visibly better than the one Jonas had built. It was larger, wealthier, and seemed to pulse with a low, constant energy. Where my old home had been quiet, filled with the sounds of daily labor and simple living, this place buzzed with activity.

It boasted many adult hangouts where the locals gathered taverns and halls where they could drink, dance, eat, smoke cigars, and even participate in or watch cockfights. Music spilled into the streets in the evenings, laughter, and shouting echoing late into the night. It was a place of indulgence and visible excess, a sharp contrast to the quiet respectability of my old home.

The distance from Emilio's new house to my old residence was not too far, but far enough for one to be exhausted upon reaching it. There were other ways to reach the other side, longer roads that wound through the hills and circled back; but those routes took much longer. The river crossing was long and arduous, yet the most direct path on a clear day, the outline of the path to the village was visible from certain points along the bank.

Almost a year since I last saw my home and the person occupying it. I decided to let things be because I had no choice. I did not fully understand why I felt compelled to see Tina; I needed to see the condition of my home since I was removed from it. Or perhaps it was simply the need to look into the face who had betrayed me, to see for myself whether any trace of the person I had once called family still existed.

I was not going there to provoke a confrontation, or demand explanations she would not give. I simply wanted to understand her motivation.

I came to terms with the fact that she was not my aunt, that she had lied to steal my family home, that she had worn a mask of kindness while coveting what belonged to me. I could almost forgive that. Almost.

How could she do it? How could she look into my eyes day after day, eat at my table, sleep under my roof, while plotting against me.

I had to know. Even if the answer would not change anything. Even if seeing her would reopen wounds that had only just begun to scab over. I had to know.

But I could not forgive the way she smiled as she poured my wine, the way she showed concern while digging a hole for me, the way she had watched me staggering and then walked away. That level of betrayal was what truly haunted me. It was what I desperately needed to understand.

I told Emilio I needed to visit my parents' graves. It was not a lie; I had been meaning to go for months but I had to reach this point with Emilio. He did not hesitate to grant me permission to go knowing there was a possibility of confronting Tina. I had not told him exactly when I would go; he showed no hesitation because he had eyes and ears following me wherever I went.

As I reached the courtyard, I stopped. The sight before me was a blow to my heart. I did not expect to see the courtyard that was once neat and orderly, the envy of all the other villagers, to be in such a disarray. The small garden behind the kitchen that used to provide us with fresh tomatoes, herbs, and the peppers, was now completely overgrown with weeds. They had crept up the walls and strangled what remained of the plants, leaving only tangled brown stalks and invasive green.

The yard itself was littered with scattered debris, The entire space looked forgotten, abandoned to the slow erosion of time and apathy. It was a visible reflection of Tina's self-serving priorities. She wanted the house, the land, the security. But she had not wanted the work, the care, the daily attention that a home required. She had taken what was mine and let it rot.

I stood there for a long moment, taking in the devastation, feeling an ache in my chest. This had been my father's house. My mother had walked this courtyard. And now it was a shell of what it had been, hollowed out by a woman who had never understood its value.

Through the desolate quiet of the yard, I heard sounds coming from inside the house. I hesitated. It was not the type of noise that suggested danger. No shouting, no crashing, no violence. It was something softer. More private. And deeply unsettling.

A cold curiosity quickly replaced my immediate impulse to knock. Who was inside? What was going on with Tina?

Cautiously, I approached the small, open window, taking care to ensure my footsteps made no sound on the cracked stones. It was déjà vu all over again. I remember this scene clearly, but I couldn’t help my curiosity to find Tina in a compromising situation. As expected, the shutters were half-open, allowing a sliver of view into the main room.

What I discovered next was not entirely surprising, but it was profoundly unsettling all the same.

Emilio and Tina were together, their bodies tangled on the small cot that had once belonged to my father. They were completely engrossed in each other, oblivious to everything but the pleasure they were taking in one another. I froze, unable to look away, my breath catching in my throat.

What struck me even more than the act itself was Emilio's surprising attentiveness. He held Tina in his embrace with a tenderness I had never seen him show me. His every touch seemed saturated with care, his hands moving over her body with a patience and intimacy that felt foreign.

This was not the detached, transactional gesture I had witnessed before This was something else entirely; something that looked almost like love.

Continue............