Page 44 of The Scars We Keep
“Nothing.”Her voice rises.“Fuck you, Lorenzo.I gave him nothing.”
There it is.The part of her that refuses to bend even when she should, even when it would be safer for her to do so.It makes something hot and savage coil in my gut, making my cock hard.It makes me want to grab her by the throat and kiss her until she can’t breathe, until she submits and remembers who the fuck she belongs to.
“Why did you go?”I ask again.
“Because he will not stop.”Her hands curl into fists at her sides, and her knuckles turn white.“He will keep pressuring me until I give in.He will call, demand, threaten, and manipulate until I break.”
“And did you… break?”
“No.I would never give him the satisfaction.”
I want to believe her so badly it aches in my chest.But I don’t give trust easily.Not in this world where betrayal is currency and loyalty is bought and sold.
“Then why do I not believe you?”
“Because you don’t trust anyone.Because you think everyone is playing you.I didn’t tell you I was leaving because I knew you’d react exactly the way you are now.”She throws her hands up.“I knew you would think I betrayed you.That you would look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”
“And how am I looking at you?”
“As if you want to strangle me and fuck me at the same time.”
She isn’t wrong.
“Did he threaten you?”I ask.
She blinks, surprised by the shift and the concern hidden beneath the anger.“What?”
“Your father.Did he threaten you?”
“He doesn’t need to threaten me.He just needs to exist.”
“That’s not an answer, Bella.Now tell me what he said.”
“Why?So you can add it to your list of reasons not to trust me?”
“Isabella.”
“He said what he always says.”Her voice drops, the fight draining out of her just slightly.“That family is everything.That blood is thicker than water.That loyalty to him comes before loyalty to anyone else.Including you.”
There is a heavy pause, loaded with something darker than anger.
“I hate him.”The words come out quiet and broken.“Every time I sit across from him I want to put a knife in his throat and watch him bleed out on his expensive fucking carpet.Watch the life drain from his eyes the same way I watched it drain from…” She pauses and curls her hands into fists.“He is a fucking monster.And one day, I am going to make him pay for killing the only person who ever loved me for me.Not for my name.Not for what I could give him.Just me.”
The words fall into the space between us.A confession and a curse all at once.
I stare at her and notice how her face has changed.There is sadness in her eyes now.The kind that seeps into the bones and never truly heals.It just becomes scar tissue and stays there, aching, for the rest of your life.A wound that never closes.Just scabs over and bleeds again every time you think about it.
I have never seen that in her before.Never seen her look so… broken.My wife, who stands tall, proud, and defiant, now appears different.She, who usually meets my anger with fire, looks like a scared, damaged girl who’s seen too much and lost too much.
“Who?”The question comes out more abruptly than I intended.“Who did he take from you?”
She hesitates.Her teeth bite her bottom lip and her eyes flick away from mine, before meeting them again.As if she’s weighing whether to let me into this part of her—this broken, bleeding part she’s kept locked away.
“Isabella,” I say quietly.“Tell me.”
She draws a shaky breath.
“His name was Ethan.”Her voice is distant and hollow, as if she’s back in a memory she has tried to bury.“I was eighteen.He was nineteen.We were going to run away together and leave this life.You know, start over somewhere no one knew our names.Somewhere we could be normal.Free.”
