Chapter 84 No Longer Hidden

Chapter 84 No Longer Hidden
Saintilia POV

He knew exactly what I meant. A rush of emotion rose inside me so fast that my eyes filled with tears.
I was angry. I was shaking. I could barely breathe under the weight of the truth standing in front of me.

“What are you talking about?” Celia asked.

Her voice trembled, though she knew I was speaking to her husband.

I looked at both of them. They stood side by side, like a united front, and that only made the moment worse. Jacob’s face had gone blank now, too blank, as if his mind was racing behind his eyes, searching for a lie. It was the stillness of a cornered predator.

Celia, on the other hand, was harder to read.

My heart raced, and I felt foolish for believing I mattered to them. Celia’s face gave nothing away. She looked calm, too calm, as if she was measuring every word I said, trying to figure out how much I knew and when I had learned that her husband was the monster who had hurt me.

Was this the same woman who had shared her sorrow with me? The same woman who had held me while I cried for days after losing Jonas. The same woman who shared my tears after learning I was violated.

In that moment, it all became clear.
Could it all have been a performance?

“Jacob,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Why don’t you tell her how you got that nasty scar on your arm?”

“He already told me,” Celia barged in. Her voice sounded flat, almost rehearsed.
“He fell, and his machete was in the way, so he got injured.”
Her eyes pleaded with me to stop.

“Celia, are you serious right now?” I screamed.
The words tore out of me before I could hold them back.

She looked at Jacob, and then back at me.
Her face tight with confusion and fear, as if she was still waiting for him to give her something she could believe. A reason. A denial. Something.

Was she putting on a show for my benefit? I could not understand her silence. How she could stand there and repeat his lies when everything about her looked like she already knew it was one.

For a moment, I thought she would feel sorry and apologize to me. I could only imagine how hard it must have been to face the truth about her own husband. It was not easy for me either. Accepting that Jacob was capable of such evil had nearly broken something inside me.

Maybe Celia had cried alone. Maybe she had fought with herself the way I had. Maybe, in some terrible way, we were both grieving the same man we thought we knew.

But sympathy could not save her from the truth.

“Tell her,” I snarled, my voice cracking. “Tell her how you tortured me when I fought back. Tell her how I bit your arm to stop you. Tell her how you slammed me to the ground, forced yourself inside me, and hurt me.”

My eyes shifted to Celia. Tears were gathering in hers, but she fought to keep them from falling. I could not tell who those tears were for. Were they for me, remembering how she held and comforted me? Or were they for her own husband, the monster she still wanted to protect?

“I gave the bastard those marks when he was on top of me. He… he raped me, Celia!”

The words tore out of me with a sob of rage and grief. I could not stop the tears. I could not stop the anger crushing my chest. My voice echoed through the sudden, suffocating silence of the courtyard.

Then Jacob moved.

Not toward me.

Toward Celia.

He took her arm gently, almost tenderly, and turned her away from me. The touch looked soft, but it was possessive. His face was hard with cold fury as he looked over her shoulder at me.

“Get out,” he said, his voice low and guttural, a sound I recognized from my nightmares. “And don’t you ever come back here again.”

But it was not his words that made my blood run cold.

It was the small, triumphant smile that touched Celia’s lips as she leaned back against him, her tears forgotten.

She had made her choice.

My anger rose until I could barely speak. It was hot and heavy, filling my chest until I thought it might choke me.

A foolish part of me still wanted Celia to protect me. I wanted her arms around me to comfort me, to believe me, to choose me.

But she did not.

“Is she telling the truth, Jacob?” Celia asked, her voice fragile.

The question should have meant something. It should have been a crack in her loyalty to him. But I could see the answer already written in her face. She was not asking because she wanted the truth. She was asking because she wanted to manipulate the situation.

When Jacob finally responded.

I expected rage. I expected him to curse me for accusing him to come at me with the same violence I remembered. Instead, he looked at Celia. His eyes locked onto hers, calm and steady, as if he could pull her back under his spell by simply holding her gaze.

“Are you going to believe this slut over me?”

The word struck me harder than any slap or kicked I’ve ever received.

Slut.

Something inside me unleashed. In his mind, I was no longer a person. I was not the girl he adored, the child he had once called Titi, and not even the person he hurt. I was just someone he used, ruined, and wanted to throw away.

“Slut?” I growled. “You bastard. You mother-fucking rpist.”

The words tore out of me.

“Did you think I would forget the stench of alcohol, sweat and the strong body odor that I smelled when you wanted to choke your wife?  Yeah Celia It was that same disgusting odor that I remembered that night.” My heart was racing, and my throat on fire.
“Celia” I screamed, “You should be ashamed of yourself. As a woman, how can you stand having a rpist for a husband.”

“Saint, how can you accuse him? What happened to you was horrible, but Jacob could never have done what you’re saying.”

Her denial scraped against my nerves.

“And I know why you never spoke Jacob,” I said, pointing a trembling finger at Jacob. “Because you knew I would recognize you.”

Celia came toward me trying to appease me, to wrap me again in the same lies that had kept her standing beside him. But my patience was gone.

My hand tightened around the heavy rock I picked up on the side of the road before going there. I had not known why I took it. Not then. Maybe I wanted protection or wanted courage. Maybe some deeper part of me knew this moment would come.

But now, standing there with the truth burning through me, it made sense. I understood how badly I wanted to use it.

I was so enraged, and did the unthinkable. 

Continue..........