"They'll tell you how more often than not the abused become the abuser."

**************

Natalie's POV

FLASHBACK ┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓

A couple of months ago...

"What are you doing here?" I shot out, my eyes widening as I instinctively retreated from the edge of Dad's bed to face him. Bewilderment etched across my features, incredulous at his reappearance into my life after what he made me do, "I did what you asked, I broke up with him, why are you here, what more do you want from me?!"

Amusement danced like spectral flames in his eyes, and he nonchalantly shook his head, "Oh sweetheart, but our work is nowhere near done yet."

"What do you mean?" A vice tightened around my chest, the memory of Nikolas's battered form haunting my thoughts like a malevolent ghost, "You've hurt him, you've beaten him up, I saw him... haven't—haven't everything you've done enough already?"

He pushed his hands into the depths of his coat pockets, advancing on me with a determined stance, a madman on a mission to annihilate the whole world. That's who he was — a man possessed by the desire to manipulate everything at his whim, to exert control over every soul within his grasp.

His eyes briefly darted to my father behind me before settling his penetrating gaze upon me. "No, it's not enough. I will not stop until he is left with nothing," he declared, the malevolence emanating from his eyes sending a bone-chilling ripple down my spine.

"Why?" I grated out, my hand on the side curling into a fist, a burning desire to hit him, punch him, rip him from the inside out. My eyebrow raised, "Did your father not love you enough that you are doing the same to him now," I added with a mocking scoff.

The corner of his lips pulled up, his eyebrow arching just slightly, "You really are as blunt as your mother once was," He said and I gritted my teeth, hating how he mentioned her, as if he knew her...he shouldn't, he shouldn't have known her, "But you see, it was cute when she did it because I loved her."

The comfortable smooth way that word slipped out of his mouth had a heavy rock settle at the pit of my stomach, "But you," He brought his hand to my face, "I am starting to not like you as much, considering your infatuation with my son," He attempted to move a strand of my hair behind my ear, but I pushed myself back and away from him, a gesture of defiance against his unsettling touch.

"What do you want from me?" I grated out, stressing out on each word.

"Straight to the point? Okay, as you want," He said, ever so casually, "It's simple actually, you will just do everything I ask you to do."

My eyebrows pulled closer, "What do you mean?" I mumbled, "I already broke up with him, what more could you possibly ask me to do?"

Oh, I had no clue to what extent he was willing to take this. No clue whatsoever.

"There is so much left to do," He said, a sick smile creeping up his face, "I think you and I are gonna have so much fun together," He added, his words dripping with a twisted delight, "I have much better plans, more twisted than you just breaking up with him. It all starts tonight, actually."

"Tonight?"Why is he always speaking in code? God, He is proudly owning up and embracing his villain title, isn't he?

"You see, as you and I speak now," He said before his gaze flickered down to his watch, "Nikolas, Alex, and their sweet mother are leaving the restaurant, and in three, two...one," A loud breath pushed out of his lungs, a relieved one, "I could almost feel it, a world without Leya," Both anger and annoyance flickered in his tone, mingling with the sudden relief that swept across his features, relaxing, "I've waited long enough for this day."

Lines tightened across my forehead as I struggled to unravel the meaning behind his cryptic words. After a fleeting second or two, comprehension dawned, and my eyes widened in horrified realization, "What are you going to do?" I whispered, the words escaping my lips like fragile petals carried away by a chilling breeze.

"It's already done," He said, his smile morphing into something sinister, casting shadows of spitefulness across his face. It hung there, a wicked crescent that painted the air with darkness too potent to ignore.

My hand shot up to my mouth, a gasp caught between the fingers as the horrifying truth settled in, its weight sinking into the very core of my being. My mind raced, desperately trying to weave through the threads of reality, each strand unraveling a new layer of the nightmare playing out before me. I could almost picture the storm that would consume Nikolas next.

His mother... she was the only beacon of affection he'd known as a child. In the fabric of his troubled past, she stood as the sole source of warmth and tenderness. He clung to those moments, holding onto them with a tenacity that spoke of the fragility of the only good memories he had. He needed her, not just as a child needing his mother, but as someone desperately clinging to her presence to keep himself from shattering into irreparable pieces.

But now...he lost her.

Tears welled up, blurring my vision as the back of my knees hit the mattress. I felt the world around me unraveling, a sense of helplessness settling in at the mere thought of what he must be feeling in this moment of profound loss.

Oh, Nikolas...

"This is only step number one," Isaac's voice came from somewhere so near but I didn't dare to face him yet, "And you, you will help me in the upcoming ones, and don't think you have a choice, Natalie," he added, the threat in his voice so oppressive, as if poised to snatch away anything good left in my world, "You do one thing wrong and your father dies, you don't listen to me, then Ronald gets hurt too..."

His words enveloped me, and with each passing moment, the weight of helplessness bore down on me, "But if you do listen to me, I will give you something you never thought was possible."

My angry teary gaze shot up to him, "What could you possibly give me!" I snapped, my voice loud, angry, enraged. God, I wanted him dead, bleeding, suffering. No one this evil should walk the earth...

The smile that pulled at his lips next was soft, genuine, and unnerving, "A little precious boy, one who asks me about his brother and sister all the time," He said, his words making no sense at all, "Who would be so happy to meet you too."

Confusion emanated from me in waves, "What do you—"

Before I could voice the question, he provided the answer, shattering my whole world into irreparable fragments again, "Nathan," he said, and I sucked in a deep, suffocating breath, "Your little brother."

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛ END OF FLASHBACK

A low gasp parted my lips, a chilling echo of the pain reverberating through my body, as I felt myself being shaken back to the unforgiving reality. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the air, mingling with the residual echoes of my nightmare, wrapping me in a surreal fusion of the past and present.

The hospital bed beneath me cradled my weakened form, and as my eyes fluttered open, the harsh fluorescent light pierced through the shadows of my consciousness. My injured leg throbbed with a dull ache, the sensation mirroring much deeper wounds etched into my soul.

The vivid memory of Isaac's ominous words lingered like a haunting melody, a discordant symphony that played on the fringes of my thoughts. The betrayal, his constant harassment, forcing me to hurt Nikolas, the way he played me, day after day. The looming threat against my father and Ronald—each revelation carved a fresh wound in the already battered fabric of my emotions.

Tears welled up as I grappled with the weight of my choices, I tried to bring my hand to my face, but something agonizing surged within every nerve in my body, threatening to drown me in a sea of despair.

"Natalie," Ronald's soothing voice had me whip my head to the side, watching as he paused right by the bed's edge, his worried eyes on me, caressing my face from afar.

As I pushed myself to sit up, a pained moan saturated my throat as the sharp pain in my leg sent tremors through my entire being, "Hey, hey, hold on, wait," Ronald said, edging closer and helping me settle down, his warm arms around me, his touch gentle and soft, the worry tumbling off him and wrapping me whole.

He is probably unaware still of my wrongdoings.

My teary eyes met his confused concerned ones and a myriad of questions tumbled out of me in utter fear, "Where is Nikolas? Is he okay? He got out of there too, right? He got his wound checked, right? Did he—"

"Nate, Nate, he is okay, calm down, he is just fine, I talked with him like ten minutes ago," Ronald answered, trying to soothe my agony, but it all added more salt to my very deep wound.

More tears rushed and fell through, the pain within me much more prominent than the ache in my leg. I felt Ronald's hand on my face, brushing my tears, "Hey, hey, it's okay, he would come here to see you—"

I shook my head, bringing my hands up and covering my face, "No, he isn't coming," I mumbled brokenly, "He is never coming back."

FLASHBACK ┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓

"You saw Max's picture, didn't you?" He asked, playing and prying on my already weakened brain, "You look smart, Natalie, so tell me, what's your theory?"

I fidgeted with my fingers, my mind a chaotic battleground where emotions clashed with logic. I revisited my earlier unsettling encounter with Alex, his defensive stance, and Max's picture—the very same one tucked into Nikolas's pocket, the same....the same child that woman in the restaurant cradled protectively in her arms. All the threads converged into a disconcerting tapestry.

He is the same; the same kid.

My brain went into overdrive, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and rationality. I could feel the weight of my blurry loving goggles, the lens through which I saw Nikolas, shifting and warping. The truth, so long avoided, beckoned from the shadows, demanding acknowledgment.

"He's Nikolas's son," I mumbled, the words escaping like a fragile confession in the quiet room. It was a revelation that simultaneously clarified and muddled everything.

"Exactly," Isaac assured me that my theory was correct.

My gaze reluctantly lifted from my lap and met his eyes—those dark, twisted eyes that seemed insistent on shattering my entire world apart.

"Alex's wife...she is, she is Nikolas's ex-wife," I added, the puzzle pieces slowly coming together, some dots connecting while others remained elusive.

Isaac nodded knowingly, his expression revealing a complexity of thoughts, "Yes, Cara, she is a...puzzling one," He added, lines etching his forehead as he seemed to be remembering something.

My throat bobbed, the fire licked between my veins, every dot connecting leading me to the final shattering truth; It was the truth Nikolas was so afraid to reveal, the one I had stubbornly avoided confronting—the truth he insisted would drive a wedge between us.

He said I would hate him if I learned that truth.

I am not...not ready to hate him.

Understanding dawned in shards, and I grappled with the tumult within. The man I cared about, stood at the crossroads of revelation and accusation. My heart resisted, clinging to the image of the man who had shown me kindness, affection, and love. Yet, the logic, undeniable and unrelenting, painted a different portrait—one that forced me to confront the possibility of this twisted sick darkness within him.

"Lilly...she had clothes, a crib, a room back in the house in London," I mumbled, my eyebrows pulling closer, nothing made sense anymore, "She is Alex's daughter but..." My heartbeats accelerated, "And she is older than Max," I forced the words out, compelling myself to grasp the unsettling reality, "Which means that...Cara, she was originally with Alex, before Nikolas married her."

"See, I told you, you're smart, you can figure it out."

I shook my head, "No, I don't," Frustration seeped into my words, "I don't understand. It doesn't make any sense! Why would she get married to Nikolas-" My words hitched, caught in the snare of memories. The defensive state she revealed back at that restaurant flooded my mind—the anger, the rage that was radiating off her, was palpable. It left me baffled that day, her body language spoke volumes, of how she cowered away, how she clung to the little kid, how she was focusing on the anger, but you could easily see the tremor coursing through her body, the fear that hid at the corner of her eyes; all clear signs of...abuse.

No, no, no...

I shook my head, getting up to my feet, refusing to analyze this further, refusing to reach that conclusion, "No, no, it's...it's not that, it's not," I grated out, glaring at him. He was playing games on me, manipulating me. He is lying. It's not this. None of this is true. It can't be...

"It's not what, Natalie?" Isaac asked, getting up to his feet and edging closer to me, "What are you refusing to acknowledge?" He asked but answered himself right after, "The fact that Nikolas kidnapped his brother's pregnant wife," The knife penetrated my heart, leaving the first scar but he carried on, "That he forced her to marry him, to stay with him, that he...fathered her daughter," Isaac scoffed, "My delusional son, so desperate for love that he'd fall for the first little human that showed him affection."

Some pieces fell into place, forming a mosaic of betrayal and tangled relationships. The air in the room seemed to thicken with the weight of the revelation, the gravity of the truth settling around me like a suffocating shroud.

"But..." The tears rushed into my eyes, one after the other, "But Max?"

"If it was up to her, she would've never had him," Isaac answered and I shook my head, stepping back, away from him, from his bitter words, "It's not like it was her choice," He added, his words pushing and pulling in my brain, in that little area, where emotions and logic fought a losing battle, both my beliefs and my heart were a victim here.

"She was forced into that marriage and into...uhm how can I say this respectfully," Isaac said, enjoying every bit of this, "Ah yes, forced into the act that created that innocent little boy."

I shook my head again, my tears falling without a pause, the tightness wrapped around my heart, the heart that fell for that man, the man who told me, more than once, that I should steer away from him, that he was bad, dangerous...Stupidly, I stayed, stayed because I saw him as a victim, a victim of all types of abuse.

I should've known. I've studied it in books; how more often than not the abused become the abuser. It was a fact. A horrendous scientific fact. One I looked over and ignored because I couldn't imagine, couldn't fathom how that same man I got to know could ever do something like this. He wouldn't. Not my Nikolas, not my grumpy man, not the guy who got me a rose, nor the one who took me out on a date, not the one who gets flustered and nervous when feelings and emotions overcome him, not the one who gets mushy with me, not the same man who kisses me with such tenderness...

"Unfortunately my son took after his uncle," Isaac added, "You do know what his uncle did, right?"

I know. I know...I've read it in his file back at the asylum. I know. I wish I didn't know.

I shook my head again, "Nikolas wouldn't, he wouldn't do that," I shook my head again, my vision blurry, my chest heavy, a pain so deep pulling me down under the wreckage, "He wouldn't."

"I have videos if you want," He said, ever so casually.

I hiccupped a low sob and collapsed onto the couch, covering my face with both hands, succumbing to the weight of despair. There was no more room for denial, no escape from the haunting truth.

The man I loved did...this.

He is capable of something like this.

The weight of the truth pressed upon my shoulders, a burden too heavy to bear, tears flowed unabated as I cried into my hands, the reality of Nikolas's actions tearing through the last shreds of the beautiful image I held onto. The sanctuary of love I thought we shared crumbled, leaving me adrift in the wreckage of shattered trust and betrayed affections.

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛ END OF FLASHBACK

"Natalie, what have you done?" Ronald whispered, his eyes growing wide in shock as I explained bits and pieces of what had been happening over the past months.

He shook his head, bewilderment playing all over his face and he took a step away from me, unable to bear the heavy weight of my mistakes, "I am not going to defend Nikolas over here, but he is fighting the right fight now...Natalie, for god's sake you helped Isaac?"

"He kept threatening me, Ronald, with you, with Dad," I mumbled, "Remember when dad's health suddenly went down and we rushed to the hospital, it was because of him, he...he did it, he did it because I refused to exchange Nik's pills," Tears flowed unchecked, the only way to release the agony brewing within me.

Ronald shook his head, he rushed a hand over his face, "You could've told me at least, you could've said something, and we would've found a way around it!"

I shook my head, wiping at my cheeks as if trying to kick away the tears that kept streaming, "Isaac is a very strong man, Ronald, I couldn't risk it, I couldn't. He was always there, watching, he always had men there at the hospital, beside Dad, so if I did anything wrong, he'd just...kill him, what was I supposed to do?"

Ronald rushed a frustrated hand over his face and the top of his head, "Unbelievable," The word hung in the air, carrying the weight of disappointment and aggravation. His eyes widened and they shot to me when he seemed to realize something, "The car...the brakes, that was you too?"

My gaze dropped down and I nodded, a shameful admission slipped out of my lips, "Yes."

"Natalie, Alex was in that car," Ronald grated out in exasperation, "Lilly was in that car, for the love of god!"

I pressed my eyes shut to blind myself from this harsh reality, "I didn't know..."

"You do realize how much worse that accident could've been?" Ronald shot out, letting it all out, "What if someone died? What if Lilly or Alex died? What would've you done then, Natalie?" He added and I fisted the sheet in my grip, unable to bear the guilt gnawing at my chest, the one scratching at my already shattered heart, "Would've you been able to live with yourself?"

I lifted my gaze up to him, his enraged eyes meeting my broken ones and I weakly shook my head. In the process of trying to make things right, I did horrible terrible things, to the point that I've lost sense of who I am.

I had to lie straight to everyone's face.

I was imprisoned in the silence of my deceit, on that day, I had to sit and wait for Nikolas to come back home after I'd exchanged his pills, unable to register the horrendous things it did to his mental state. Then, he came, all broken and shattered, unraveling me alongside him. Alex accused me, the only one to see right through my lies.

Fear wrapped around me like a suffocating cloak, and I deliberately kept my distance from him, terrified that he would unravel the tangled web of my deception.

In the midst of this charade, I grappled with a disconcerting revelation—was I truly faking? Each time Nikolas's skin brushed against mine, the expected flinch transformed into a magnetic pull, drawing me closer and closer to him. His touch, his presence, became an anchor that paradoxically calmed the storm and the fear raging within me.

When he spoke to me, I forgot. I forgot Isaac, I forgot his past and our wavering future.

With him, I had stood on the precipice of an abyss, realizing that the darkness I feared within myself found a haunting resonance with his own shadows.

As his hand rested over mine and his lips caressed my own, a delicate dance unfolded—a dance that wove threads of solace and chaos, binding our intertwined existence. Almost like his inner monster pulled the one hidden inside me, a monster hidden in all of us. He pulled it right out, showed me my innermost twisted self, and exposed to me what I am capable of doing.

As days passed, and we continued to twirl and intertwine in the corridors of our entangled souls, the events left us suspended in the enigma we had woven. It became increasingly apparent that I had no clue about the path I was treading. No book I had read or studied had equipped me to comprehend the overwhelming intensity of this situation.

In the harsh light of reality, the weight of failure pressed upon me.

I had failed—not just as a therapist, but as a sister, as a daughter, as a girlfriend, and fundamentally as a human.

********************

The day before...

Roman's POV

A foggy sensation wrapped over my head like a mysterious shroud, and as I stirred, the first tendrils of consciousness tugged at the edges of my awareness. I attempted to pry my eyes open, only to find their lids heavy with the residue of a restless sleep.

I blinked a couple of times, groaning at the relentless headache rocking my brain. I brought my hand to my face, rubbing it over it, in an attempt to kick myself back in, "Emma," I mumbled in a low whiney voice but the lack of any response forced me to pry my eyelids open.

The contours of the space surrounding gradually unveiled themselves. Walls adorned with art unfamiliar to my gaze, a bed that cradled me in its alien embrace — these fragments merged into a disturbing image. The air in the room carried a scent foreign to my senses, and as I inhaled, a subtle unease settled in my chest.

My eyes widened, and I pulled myself up, a jolt of shock coursing through me as I surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings. The room unfolded before me like a cryptic tableau, each detail a puzzle piece in a narrative I couldn't fathom. It was a space I'd never traversed, marked by a simplicity that offered no clues, no personal imprints on the vacant nightstands to guide me through the haze.

My gaze absorbed every little detail before they fell on the bed, the one I was alone occupying. My eyes flickered on my attire, the exact same one from the night before.

Last night, I was...where was I? What happened last night?

The lines of confusion etched themselves across my face as I strained to summon the recollections of the previous evening, but I simply...couldn't. I had been with Emma, I remember that. Then, I left to meet up with the guys for a drink. The bar, the camaraderie, the clinking of glasses—all vivid fragments until the details succumbed to an impenetrable haze.

Did we drink that much? I remember having one glass only.

My gaze swept the room, a desperate search for my phone, and finally, I found it tucked beneath the pillow. I pulled it out and weirdly enough Emma hadn't called me. Confused, I went to our chatbox, only to find that I already texted her last night, typing that I'd crash at Ethan's house. But...but this isn't Ethan's house.

A wave of disorientation crashed over me. What the hell was happening?

The confusion became unbearable, compelling me to rise from the bed. Stepping out into the unknown, I surveyed the foreign house with a sense of urgency. Every corner, every room, I searched for any presence other than my own, seeking a clue to untangle the mystery. Yet, the house remained silent, devoid of any occupant but me.

Running a frustrated hand over my face, I grappled with the unsettling realization that something was amiss. The conflicting pieces of the puzzle left me feeling both hot and cold, a downpour of emotions swirling within.

What the hell happened last night?

******************

The present...

Emma's POV

"What do you want for breakfast?" I asked Noah as I picked up the delivered mail and strode toward the kitchen with him following suit, his pint-sized footsteps echoing with a playful squeak behind me.

Reaching the counter, he paused and, with determination, hoisted himself onto the stool. I stifled a chuckle at his endearing struggle, watching with amusement as he successfully managed to settle into the seat. He faced me, a small smile pulled up his lips, "Whatever you want," He answered, being polite as usual.

I edged closer and pinched his cheek, "I want what you want."

His smile widened, "Pancakes?" He asked.

I nodded, "Pancakes it is."

We all are aware that navigating the kitchen has never been my forte; the realm of pots and pans is typically foreign to me. I mean other than the cake I once made for Roman after nine attempts, I've never prepared a thing for myself before. But having a small kid that I need to feed forced me to learn a thing or two.

So today, we will learn how to make pancakes apparently. Hopefully, we won't repeat the boiled egg incident from two days ago, in which it exploded and splattered on Roman's face. It was priceless though. Roman swore to never eat eggs again.

I shook my head at my idiot husband as I looked through the mail, searching for anything that needed my attention. I was ready to discard them but the last envelope that had my name written on it, addressed only to me, made me pause.

I took it out of the pile, tore it open, and pulled out its contents.

It appeared to be a couple of innocent photographs at first, but my attention was abruptly seized by a handwritten note clinging to them like a harbinger of sorrow. Its words, etched with a chilling certainty, read: "I told you before, how when you are no longer needed, he will come back to me."

The fuck-

My gaze reluctantly left the ominous note and plunged into the array of pictures sprawled before me—snapshots that threatened to dismantle the very fabric of my reality.

Time itself seemed to pause, the world around me holding its breath as I stood at the crossroads of something unreal. It felt as if a bucket of freezing cold water had been dropped on me, each droplet carrying the weight of shattered illusions, chilling me to the bone.

The air grew thick with the residue of disbelief, a suffocating fog that clung to my senses. I couldn't breathe as I looked between the pictures. I can't breathe...

I felt as though something was clogging my airways and my ears, a sensation akin to the aftermath of a detonation or an explosion.

The gravity of the moment pressed upon my chest, a heavy burden that threatened to anchor me to the ground, to shatter me at the seams and break me down. The very ground beneath my feet felt unsteady, as if the earth itself recoiled from the seismic tremors of this emotional earthquake.

The ground was...shaking. No, no, I was shaking. Trembling under the aggression of this horrendous act.

No, it's not real. It can't be. He...wouldn't. Not my Roman, not my husband, he wouldn't...

But the...pictures, they were telling a whole different story.

The scenes depicted him, my husband, but not with me. With her.

Why I am unable to fucking breathe?!

Realization seeped into the marrow of my bones, I felt the sting deep within, like a thousand paper cuts on my soul. Hurt, raw and palpable, welled up, a torrent of emotions threatening to drown me in their relentless current.

My world, stable and secure just two seconds ago, crumbled like fragile porcelain, leaving me caught in the debris of shattered trust, grappling with the fragments of a reality forever ruined and destroyed.

"Emma," The soft whisper of my name and the very gentle touch over my arm was the only thing to avert my gaze away from this disgusting sickening scene. My eyes fell into Noah's confused eyes, his soft brown gaze flickered over my face, his young brain trying to understand what was happening.

My hand trembled with a tremor that coursed through my blood and veins, threatening my heart, my mind, and my sanity. Anger roared inside my chest. I wanted to scream, to explode, to fucking turn the whole place upside down. I wanted to kill. I wanted blood and I wanted...

But I couldn't. Not now.

Breathe, Emma, for now, just breathe...

I let my eyelids drop down for a mere second, my fingers so fucking tight over the pictures, ready to rip them into non-existence. My jaw ticked and I forced all the rage within, tucking it inside, under a heavy rock, just for now. For now, only. For this little kid's sake.

I placed the pictures back into the envelope, my eyes back on Noah and I said, "We have to go somewhere," I mumbled, unable to figure out what to say or how to act without exploding, "Will you come with me?" I whispered.

He nodded his head, "Okay."

I gave him a nod, rubbing a hand over my throat, "Why don't you...why don't you go grab your jacket," I added and he nodded obediently before he pushed himself off the stool, scurrying away to get it done.

I pulled out my phone, thinking and thinking, lost as to where to go, who to ask, and what to do. One minute ticked by and I found myself texting Cara, asking if she was home and if I could drop by. A couple of seconds later came her response; sure, I will wait for you.

With the envelope clutched tightly in my grip, I strode towards the exit just as Noah returned, his little hand threading through the jacket's sleeves as he fixed it snugly over himself. Retrieving my coat from the hanger, I also fetched his shoes, helping him place them on. I looked up at him and pulled the zipper of the jacket all the way up, shielding him from any cold.

I clasped his little hand in mine, the warmth of his fingers a comforting anchor as I guided him alongside me and into the car. Throughout the drive, he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the rain pelting against the window, a heavy storm brewing at a distance, ready to consume us all.

Half an hour later, I found myself knocking on Alex's door. Footsteps approached from within, and he opened it, momentarily freezing as he acknowledged my presence. Swiftly, his gaze fell on the kid beside me and confusion emanated from him in waves.

Without any greeting, "Who's that?" He asked.

I ignored him and pushed past him into the house, my shoulder brushing his as I pulled Noah alongside me, my grip so tight over his little hand, and he clung back to me as well. Alex cursed something under his breath, annoyed still by my presence as he shut the door behind us.

I faced him, "Where is Cara?"

He glared at me, "She was giving Max a bath, she is probably dressing him," He answered, his eyes flickered up the stairs, "Cupcakes, Emma is here to see you," He said, his voice raising so she could hear him.

I heard her low voice, saying that she would be down in a minute. Alex's gaze shifted back to Noah, and without acknowledging me again, he crouched down, fixing his curious and confused gaze on the little boy, "Who are you?"

Noah, sensing the scrutiny in the unfamiliar setting, edged closer to me. "I am Noah," he whispered, a hint of discomfort in his voice.

"She is not your mother, is she?" Alex asked again, investigating.

Noah's eyebrows pulled closer and he shook his head, "No."

Alex tilted his head, studying the child before his eyes widened, "She is not by any chance your sister, is she?" The thought seemed to dawn on him, a notion more horrifying than anything else.

Noah shook his head again, "No."

"Then, who are you?" Alex asked again, frustrated and a surge of anger pulsed through me, I wanted to hit him, to fucking punch him into the next century.

"I am Noah," Noah answered again, annoyance in his voice and I rested my hand over the top of his head, caressing his hair and urging him to look at me only and ignore stupid Alex.

"Leave him alone," I grated out, my jaw clenching and ready to kick his ass. I already feel repelled by anything male, he better not play further on my nerves and push me past the limits of patience.

Alex rolled his eyes, his attention shifting to Cara as she descended the stairs, little Max nestled between her arms. Fresh out of the shower, his short wet hair was tidily combed, and an adorable brown teddy bear onesie enveloped his small, delicate frame. Engrossed in play, his tiny hand manipulated a toy, his gaze fixated on it until, inevitably, he brought it to his mouth and gave it a gentle nibble.

"Hey," Cara greeted me with a welcoming smile. As she drew closer, the gentle scent of baby shampoo enveloped my senses and instinctively my gaze caressed the little kid's beautiful face.

Cara's eyes fell on Noah beside me and acknowledgment flashed in her eyes, "Oh, you must be Noah," She said, offering him a warm smile, recalling him from our latest conversation.

Noah returned her smile with a nod. Alex, however, appeared to be growing increasingly confused. "Who the hell is he?" he blurted out.

"I told you!" Noah shot out, getting angry as he glared up at Alex, clearly fed up with his persistent intrusion.

"Jesus, you're sure he is not your kid," Alex said as he eyed him with wary eyes before they flickered to mine, "He has your attitude."

I glared at him, "You trigger that attitude out of everyone," I said.

"The hell—" he began to protest, but Cara intervened, pushing Max into his arms and silencing him, "Here, take your kid and go away."

Max emitted a delighted sound as he nestled into Alex's embrace. Alex, forgetting everyone else, cradled him warmly, leaned down, and peppered him with kisses on his hair, cheeks, and neck. "God, this breathtaking smell will kill me," he mumbled as he kept kissing him, "I could just eat you, you know that," he added, hugging him tightly before turning around and moving away from us, still talking with his little boy as no one else mattered to him now.

Cara shook her head at him, redirecting her attention to me. "Come in, come in," she urged, her hand resting on my arm as she guided me toward the living room. Yet, my visibly unsettled state didn't escape her notice, hinting that something was not right.

I hesitated by the entrance of the living room. "Can I keep him here for just tonight?" I asked, my gaze shifting to Noah. His little fists clung to my leg, and his eyes darted around the foreign house, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.

Cara's eyes were on the boy, utterly confused but she nodded her head nevertheless, "Yeah, sure."

Her gaze scrutinized my expression, "Did something happen?" she asked.

My jaw clenched and I nodded my head, "Yeah, I am going to kill Roman tonight, and he is too young to witness that."

Cara's eyes grew wide, sensing the seriousness in my harsh tone but before she could protest or defend her brother, I pulled the envelope out of my purse and extended the pictures to her, letting the visual narrative explain my reasons without the need for words.

Confusingly, her eyes dropped down before they widened. Shock pulsed through her being. "The hell—" she blurted out, her widened gaze flicking up to me and then back to the pictures. She winced, "I really shouldn't be seeing this," She grumbled uncomfortably. However, anger quickly saturated her gaze as she arrived at the same conclusion as mine. "He can stay here," she declared, addressing Noah.

"And believe me, my brother or not, if you don't kill him, I will!"

Great, now I have her blessings too. There is no stopping what I am going to do.

Cara's eyes shifted to the kid, and knowing we couldn't discuss it openly with him present, she called for her daughter, "Lilly, come here."

A few seconds later, low footsteps emerged from the other room. "Yes, Mommy," Lilly said, pausing by the door. Her eyes fell on me, and she broke into a big smile, waving her hand, "Hey, Emma!"

I tried to give her a smile but miserably failed. Cara's eyes went to Noah, "Hey sweetie, why don't you go with Lilly inside, she has lots of toys, you can play with her or watch TV if you want," She said and he gave her a small nod.

Lilly edged closer, staring at him from up to down, her head tilted to the side, "Who are you?" She asked, proving that she was Alex's daughter only.

Lines etched Noah's forehead, getting bored of being asked the same question, "I am Noah," He still gave her an answer nevertheless.

Lilly cared for nothing else, she wrapped her hand over his sleeves and pulled him along, more like dragging him with her, "Do you like airplanes? I took it from Chase, you can play with it," She mumbled, giddy that she had someone to play with, "And I have crackers, do you want some-" Her voice disappeared as they went into the other room.

The weight crashed over me and I slumped into the couch. Cara took the spot near me, "Do you think that..." Her gaze drifted to the pictures and she winced again, "Do you really think that happened?"

I shook my head, unsure of anything, "I don't know," I mumbled.

"They could be a fake, people do that," She mumbled and I knew that this was an option but also, there was a possibility they were true.

"He didn't come home last night," I mumbled, trying to understand when it happened, "He said he would be crashing at his friend's house," I added, my jaw ticking at his fucking lie, the pain pressing against my chest heavy and suffocating, "He left today's morning before I even woke up, I don't know to where...I am not sure what's true and what's not."

"But things were good between you two," she commented, attempting to make sense of the deafening revelation.

I nodded my head. Everything was just perfect.

Cara's eyebrows furrowed, "I think you should first make sure if it really happened," She suggested, her throat carrying the weight of the words, "Talk to him, ask him. Maybe it's not true, maybe someone is playing a sick game on you two."

"And if it's true?" I asked, the foundation of my beliefs fracturing beneath the weight of this betrayal.

I chose to trust him, to expose the depths of myself in a way I hadn't with anyone before. I revealed my weaknesses, showcased my vulnerable side, and leaned on him with a dependency I had never granted another soul. I trusted him...

"If it's true," Her jaw clenched tight, "I don't know what I'd do to him, this is freaking unbelievable!"

I felt like I was adrift in a sea of confusion and heartache, grappling with the enormity of being deceived by the one person I had opened my heart to. Usually, it is me. I was the bad guy, I was the liar, the one weaving the threads of deceit. It was me.

Cara rested her hand over my shoulder, sensing how this fact could flip my whole world upside down, "Emma," She softly said, bringing my gaze back to her, "My brother or not, if it is true, we...we will figure it out, okay?" She tried to assure me, and show me that I was not alone. I didn't understand her willingness to always help me, to be by my side.

Why?

I was horrible. And on some level, I do deserve this befalling upon me.

My chest quivered once more, a strange force constricting my lungs, hindering any attempt to draw in a normal breath. I shook my head, sensing the sting in my eyes, the liquid pushing against the boundaries. I fought against the rising tide, unwilling to surrender and unravel. Not yet. Not here. Not now.

My teeth dug into my lower lip, grasping for control and fighting a losing battle. All I felt after were her arms encircling my shoulders, pulling me in, and hugging me, "God, I don't know what to say," She whispered helplessly.

My eyelids dropped down and I brought my arms around her back, pushing my face into her shoulder, a pain so raw threatening my strength as I clung to her.

My heart, the one I was opening up, day after day, now resembled a tattered manuscript, its pages torn and scattered in the storm of betrayal. The ache was palpable. It hurts. Everywhere hurts.

***************

A couple of hours later...

I heard the door click and open. I heard Roman's footsteps echo as he walked inside. I remained seated on the couch, counting in my head, the photographs tight in my grip as he emerged into the same room, pausing when his eyes fell on me.

Like it was any other normal day, a soft smile lifted his lips, "Hey," He greeted, edging closer only to pause momentarily when he read the hostile expression etched across my features.

A frown pulled up between his eyebrows, "What's wrong?" He asked, his gaze flickered around, "Where is Noah?"

Breathe, Emma, just keep breathing...

"Where were you last night?"

My direct question took him off guard, it had his confused expression wavering, sensing something, and at the same time hiding something from me, "I told you I crashed at Ethan's-"

I got up to my feet, "But I talked with Ethan," I didn't, I've never talked with the guy, "I asked him and he said that you weren't with him," I lied just so I could figure out if he was lying.

The muscles of his jaw worked, figuring that I caught something. He brought his hand to his face, running it over tiredly, "Emma, I know what this looks like, but it's not..." A sense of loss consumed his tone, "I don't...know what happened—"

"But, I do," I grated out, striding forward and pushing the pictures at his chest. Confused, he tried to catch them before they'd scatter to the floor. His gaze left me and fell on the visual proof. The sight of the first picture only and his eyes grew wide, shocked, speechless, it was almost as though he hadn't been the one to experience those moments, as though he wasn't the one to wrap that bitch in his arms and share with her something intimate and preserved only for us.

The color left his face, paling as he looked between them. He shook his head in bewilderment, refusing, "No, no," He looked up at me, "Emma, no, this didn't happen, I would never!"

He sounded sure but also...not so sure.

"Did you sleep with her?" I asked, and he better answer with a yes or no. That's all I want now. I've been keeping this anger and hurt tucked in all day long. I needed a release soon or I will crumble.

He shook his head, "No, no, I didn't, I wouldn't-" His gaze fell back on the pictures, "This is a fucking lie, I would never," The last sentence left his mouth as a whisper.

Bewilderment consumed his expression, it tightened the lines over his face and his chest heaved, his lost eyes meeting mine and he shook his head, edging closer and trying to reach for me, "Emma, you need to believe me, you know me, I would never do this."

Did I really?

Did I know him?

"Where were you last night, Roman?" I stressed out on each word.

He shook his head, helpless, and uncertainty quenched his eyebrows, "I don't know. I don't remember."

Anger started to push past the door of control, the rage bubbling up within me, ready to break through, "What do you mean you don't know!" I grated out, my voice rising and bouncing off the four walls.

He shook his head, and he threw the pictures away, unable to keep holding them; the proof of his betrayal, of him breaking me and us, he let them go as they scorched his skin, "I don't know what happened, I don't fucking know why I can't remember a damn thing!" He grated out, as bewildered as me at this fucked up turn of events, "But not this, I don't remember what happened, but it's not this, Emma."

"No matter which state I was in, I would never ever betray you, never!"

I shook my head, "I wish I can believe you," I whispered because...I didn't.

"Emma-"

I shook my head, "No, don't," I grated out, "Don't."

"Just tell me where you were and what you did," I added, my jaw clenching so tight.

He shook his head, trying to find the answer deep within but failing too, "I told you, I don't fucking remember a thing."

My lower lip trembled, the tears pushing and pushing, and I couldn't fight them anymore. My fingers on the side shook, quivering and I curled them into a tight fist. A groan pushed off my chest and I marched forward, my fingers clutching into his collar as I backed him into the wall, unable to keep anything in.

"How could you!" I snapped, the feeling of betrayal rushing out of me and slamming into him. "How could you?!" I shot out again, one hand leaving his collar and slamming into his jaw, pushing his head to the other side.

The pain and anger converged within me like a storm, and I unleashed it on him. My fists pounded on his chest, a torrent of emotions flowing through every strike. The rhythmic thuds echoed the beat of my broken heart, an echo of betrayal and hurt. Each blow was a release, an attempt to externalize the chaos within.

"How? How?!" I screamed, seething, crying and breaking all at once.

My voice and harsh breaths were the only thing filling the room. The air between us crackled with the intensity of my broken emotions, a thunderstorm of anger and pain swirling in the small space we occupied.

He remained passive, absorbing the blows as if he understood that this was a storm he had brewed. He caused this. He did this to us. He did this to me. Whether I deserved it or not, he had no right, he had no fucking right!

My fists were a conduit for the betrayal that coursed through my veins as I continuously slammed them into his chest; Each strike was a plea for answers, an attempt to carve a tangible wound in the emotional landscape he had laid bare.

As I rained my anger upon him, his silence fueled the inferno within me, "Speak! Say something, how could you?!"

"I didn't, Emma," He whispered back, ever so helplessly, his dark green eyes meeting my own, urging me to see past the proof, past everything, willing me to believe in the man I was married to. The man who held me through every dark moment, who pulled me back from the edge, who caressed my wounds and scars, who loved me...who I betrayed, who I deceived, who I broke, and who could easily break me down too.

He brought his hands up, he wrapped them around my fisted hands, the ones that were clutching into his collar, he tenderly wrapped engulfed them with his own, like those same hands didn't just bruise and wound him, "Emma, you have to believe me," He mumbled, helpless and desperate, "I have no proof, I have nothing to prove you otherwise, but I need you to trust me, to trust my love for you," He added, trying to seek the broken little girl in me who found solace in his embrace every night.

"I need you to see how she is only trying to break us apart," He shook his head, his eyes pleading, "Don't let her get what she wants," He added, the desperation evident in his voice, "We killed her father and brother, she is trying to take her revenge this way, Emma, I don't know how she did it, I don't know what she did, all I know is that I love you, more than anything, more than anyone, I know that I would never hurt you this way, I would never betray you; how could I, Emma, how could I when I've spent years just looking for you..."

I was panting, these events threatening to consume me and everything in my path.

Every word he spoke carved a chasm within me, tearing at the fabric of the reality I was just now getting accustomed to. His plea resonated with sincerity, a melody of devotion that once brought solace to my wounded soul.

Yet, my mind, clouded by the seeds of doubt, questioned every syllable. The pain of past betrayals, the scars of broken trust, whispered caution in my ear, urging me to resist the allure of his words.

He was lying. He had to be lying...

A battlefield raged within me and I shook my head, refusing every word he said. My unwillingness to understand him, to listen to him, to believe in him, it erupted as agony over every feature of his tortured face, "Emma, don't you trust me?" He tried to reach for me one last time.

I shook my head, pushing my hands away from him, and propelled myself backward, "No, I don't," I admitted, "I don't even trust myself, Roman," I shook my head, "Don't expect me to trust you."

I had come into this life alone, I grew up alone, and I fought everything and everyone alone, so why did I think it would be any different now? How did I dare to dream beyond?

He edged forward and I raised my hand up, warning him, "I could kill you now, Roman, believe me, I want to, I want to carve your heart out with my own hands but I am stopping myself, don't push me, don't you dare!" I grated out, fighting my instincts to just end him once and for all.

"She said that...that you two met more than once after we got married," I scoffed as I recalled our first encounter at the charity event, "God, I am so delusional," I said, disappointed in myself, "You probably did this more than once-"

"Emma, I didn't!" He shot out, offended by the weight of my accusation.

"You did, what could possibly hold you back? The fact that I lied to you and played with your feelings when we first met?" I showed him the messy thing that is our relationship, we were doomed from the start, "The fact that I was the one to betray you first? That I faked my death and forced you to live in that guilt for how many years," Each word fed into the monster residing somewhere deep within him, triggering him on purpose.

I wanted to hurt him more, I wanted him to feel pain, I wanted him in pain, to suffer like he is making me suffer now, "That I was sleeping with Lucas too all the time you and I were together?"

That was a lie, but he deserves pain, I want him to feel it.

His eyes widened, something slapping him in the face and I added, "Who knows, maybe I was doing it too after we got married," I grated out, losing my senses, losing my mind, "Who knows, maybe that kid wasn't even yours."

Fuck, I needed to leave, to go back to my home, this wasn't my home. I needed to take Noah and go back to London. Far away from here. Far away from him.

I whirled around, ready to walk away when his words from behind me had me pause, "That's the thing, Emma, I am not you," He grated out, the heaviness in his words proving that my bullet hit him exactly where I wanted, unraveling him like me, "Just because you're fucked up in the head, it doesn't mean we all are."

Breathe, Emma, just breathe.

My eyelids glided down for a mere second. I pried them open, my jaw tightened, and I pulled my knife out. Groaning, I whirled around and with precision, I swiftly threw my knife at him. The blade sliced through the air, hitting the wall right by his head, only a millimeter away from him.

He didn't even flinch, and something seemed to die in his gaze too, "You missed," He pointed out in mockery.

I shook my head, burying down all the tears, all the pain, all the ache, "That's the thing, Roman, I never miss."

*******************************

Hey!

So, what are your thoughts? ;)

All the relationships are ruined, hehe xD Are you Team Emma or Team Roman? :D

Don't forget to vote and comment your thoughts and expectations!

See ya soon ! ;)