Chapter 5

But Nelson didn't say a word.

"This is my home! He's my husband! Your mom is the one who stole my husband!"

Beatrice lost control, grabbing her pen and notebook, scribbling furiously to vent her anger.

A five-year-old might not even be able to read, but even so, Nelson hurried to shield his wife and daughter, pleading with Beatrice.

"Beatrice, she's still young. Please, not in front of so many people. Don't let her become a target for gossip. I'm begging you…"

He was begging Beatrice to let him have some dignity at least in front of his daughter.

Beatrice stared at Nelson in disbelief. He wanted her to bear the shame of being called a homewrecker just to keep his daughter from being talked about?

If anyone was to blame, wasn't it Raine? She knew he was married, and still chose to do what she did...

Slap!

Maybe she had finally reached her breaking point. Beatrice raised her hand and slapped Nelson hard.

This wasn't all Raine's fault.

If Nelson had never touched her, they wouldn't even have a daughter.

"Why did you hit my daddy, you bad woman?" The little girl broke free from Raine and ran over, slamming right into Beatrice.

Beatrice was so thin. After five years of suffering, she was just a shadow of her former self. Even a five-year-old could knock her straight to the floor. Her elbow scraped against the ground, drawing blood.

"Beatrice…" Nelson rushed to help her, but she dodged his hand. She glared at Nelson, her eyes filled with hatred and despair.

"Beatrice!"

She scrambled up, grabbed her notebook and pen, and ran.

That was her home…

Yet now, she was being treated like some rat in the street that was spat on and insulted.

"How can she have the bravado to show up here when she's the homewrecker?"

"Yeah, ruining someone else's family… How shameless can she be?"

Beatrice ran and ran, as far as she could go...

Everything was hurting. Every inch of her body ached. No part of her body was without pain.

She had no idea how long she had been running, but finally she stopped, gasping for breath. She raised her hand and slapped herself across the face, the sting making her go numb.

She hated herself. Why couldn't she speak? Why couldn't she make a sound? Why did she have to run away like a coward!

That was her home.

That was her husband.

Why should she be the one carrying all the blame?!

-

Lyra Bay.

It took Beatrice a full hour of walking to reach Lyra Bay. She looked up at the house where she had grown up, and now it felt cold and strange.

Maybe Nelson had lied to her.

Maybe... Her parents were still waiting for her at home...

A few thugs were smoking on the side of the road, and one of them whistled at Beatrice. "It's so late, what are you still doing out here?"

Lyra Bay was an old neighborhood. After the demolition plans were announced, everyone moved out, and the area became a hangout for young troublemakers.

Beatrice hadn't been home in five years, and the unfamiliar streets made her uneasy. She clutched her wrist, trying to slip past the group as she hurried into the neighborhood.

One of them flicked away his cigarette and tried to grab her in his drunkenness. "All alone, are you?"

Beatrice had always been beautiful. Her parents made sure she learned piano and dance from a young age. She had always stood out in a crowd.

But five years in a war zone had stripped away all her radiance. In Narsten, her looks had been nothing but a nightmare.

The moment the man touched her, Beatrice flinched from the touch and slapped him, before stumbling back in fear. It was her fight-or-flight response.

The thug got angry and raised his hand to strike her.

Beatrice crouched down, hugging her head in terror. It was a defense so deeply ingrained in her that it became pure instinct.

But the blow never landed. Instead, a scream rang out, and the thug hit the ground.

A dark figure stepped between her and the thugs, blocking out the light, his shadow almost swallowing Beatrice whole.

Beatrice looked up, terrified. However, she couldn't see his face.

However, the voice alone was enough to make her whole body tremble.

"Get lost!" growled the man.

He had a hood pulled over his face. However, he was tall and his presence was overwhelming. The thugs didn't want to push their luck; they scrambled to their feet and ran off.

"Beatrice… You're still bullied once you're home in your home country. What am I supposed to do with you…?"

His voice was hoarse, and the violence radiating from him terrified her.

Beatrice's legs went weak. She stared up in shock and disbelief.

It was him!

Alba Cruz was still alive!

He had even followed them back to this country!

Alba Cruz was a member of the terrorist organization who kidnapped them…

As well as Beatrice's greatest nightmare.