Chapter 82 No One Stood Beside Me!

Chapter 82 No One Stood Beside Me!
Saintilia POV

For a moment, I wondered if I had imagined it. Was the stress of the moment twisting what I saw? Was fear making me see meaning where there was none? I forced myself to stay composed, keeping my face fixed in shock at Jacob’s violence, pretending I had not noticed her desperate little movement.

But I had seen it.

And the question rose inside me like a scream.

Why would she do that?

Summoning every ounce of courage I had left, I yelled at Jacob, my voice cracking with a fury that surprised even me.

“Let her go!”

To my shock, he listened. His drunken focus shifted, and his grip on Celia’s throat loosened, though his hand did not fully leave her. As I stumbled back from the force of his shove, my eyes darted across the room to Emilio.

I had expected him to step in, to play the part of the host, the man in charge. But he just sat there, watching quietly, like the struggle had nothing to do with him. I supposed I had expected too much from one abusive man, hoping he might stop another.

Though Emilio said nothing, I saw his expression change the moment I tore Jacob’s sleeve. His eyes narrowed. His unnerving stillness sharpened into something cold and calculating. It was the look of a man who had just seen something he could use.

Had he noticed Celia’s frantic attempt to hide the scar? Or was it Jacob’s raw aggression that held his interest? I could not tell. I did not understand what was happening between them all.

In all the time I had spent in their home years ago, I had never seen so much as a disagreement. They had been my sanctuary, my example of what a peaceful home could look like. But Jacob had changed. The kind man who used to read me stories and patch up my scraped knees was gone, replaced by this volatile, terrifying stranger.

And Celia was not untouched by it. That was painfully clear now. She was drowning in silence, suffering in front of everyone, and still her instinct to protect Jacob seemed stronger than her instinct to save herself.

After a long, tense moment that stretched like an eternity, Emilio finally moved. He had seen enough of the spectacle. Without raising his voice, he told Jacob and his wife it was time to leave, his tone leaving no room for argument.

They left, and the silence they left behind was heavier than any noise.

That morning, I woke beneath a heavy blanket of sadness, anger, and bone-deep fatigue. Those feelings had stayed with me ever since Jacob’s visit, ever since he and Emilio drank themselves into that ugly violence. Nothing had felt the same after that night. Something inside me had been disturbed, and no matter how hard I tried to quiet it, it would not settle.

Then clarity came.

It came not through a face, or a voice, or even the scar.

It came through smell.

In that single, horrifying moment of understanding, the pieces clicked into place. For nearly a week, I had been trying to remember what my body already knew. The smell that had entered my nose almost three years before, the one I had sworn I would never forget, had returned to me when I stepped between Jacob and Celia.

Alcohol mixed with sweat.

A sharp, specific body odor that belonged to him alone.

It had been there that night, clinging to him, rising from his skin as he grabbed at me and pulled me close. My mind had noticed it before I did. But in the panic of the moment, I had pushed it away. I had refused to understand what my body was trying to tell me.

For nearly three years, I had buried those memories behind a wall thick enough to survive behind. My mind had acted like a silent guard, allowing me to move through life, to smile when needed, to work, to eat, to lie beside Emilio, and to pretend that I was still whole.

But the wall had cracked.

And now, everything behind it was coming through.

But I had always known the past would come back. I knew it would rise again and darken my world. I was still not sure how to face it, but I could feel the time coming when I would have to accept what happened and confront what had been left unresolved inside me.

And I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the core, that the same violent act had created the scar on Jacob’s arm and the scar on my soul.

How could I face my own emotions in the middle of such chaos? The question screamed inside my head, but my body felt frozen. My heartbeat like a trapped animal throwing itself against the cage of my ribs. Each beat felt like a warning, a countdown to the past I had buried.

Then one name broke through the noise.

Jonas.

His name came to me like both a prayer and a curse. He had not seen this coming. He had not imagined the troubles I would face without him here, without his solid presence to protect me. The weight of that realization settled on my chest like stone. The very people he trusted to be my safe place, my family in everything but blood, had become the danger he never imagined. Jacob was the wolf Jonas had invited into the fold, mistaking him for a loyal sheepdog.

And Celia.

Her name was a fresh wound.

She had been the closest thing I had ever had to a mother. In my shattered state, I ached for the comfort only a mother could give, a place to rest my head and let the tears fall without fear. I remembered her arms around me after Jonas died, her soft promises that she would always be there, that we would get through it together.

But her shoulder was the last place I could turn now. She was too close to the poison to be the cure.

And then there was Tina.

The so-called aunt. The woman who had wrapped betrayal in the language of family. She had smiled, advised, comforted, and guided me only to help lead me into Emilio’s hands. She had drugged my trust before she drugged my body. Of all the wounds I carried, hers was one of the most humiliating, because I had believed she was standing beside me when she had already chosen the side that would break me.

The longing for Jonas became a physical pain, a hollow ache beneath my ribs. It was more than grief. It was hunger for justice, for safety, for a world that still made sense. If he were alive, I was certain none of this would be happening. He would have seen the truth in Jacob’s eyes, the darkness behind the smile. He would never have let the wolf near the door, let alone trusted him to guard me while he was gone.

Continue..........