Chapter 5 The Worst Nightmare

Natalie's POV: But Mike remained silent. Furious, I grabbed the pen and scribbled furiously on the paper. "This is my home! He's my husband! Your mother is the one who stole him from me!" I shot a sharp glare at the little girl. Mike snatched the paper from my hands, his expression tense. "Natalie, she's just a kid—please ... don't scar her for life over this." I stared at him, stunned. He wanted me to swallow the blame? To let a child grow up believing I was the homewrecker? All so she wouldn't be judged? But wasn't it him—wasn't it his betrayal—that led to this mess in the first place? While Mike was still married to me, he had a child with another woman! What kind of man had I trusted with my heart? Fueled by rage, I raised my hand and struck Mike across the face—hard. "You're a bad lady! How dare you hit my daddy!" the little girl shrieked, wriggling out of Sia's arms and charging at me. She shoved me with all her strength. I was too thin ... Three years lost in that nightmare had drained me completely—so much so that even a toddler's push could knock me down. "Natalie ... " Mike rushed over, flustered, trying to steady me. I stared at Mike, my eyes full of resentment and pain. I scrambled to my feet, grabbed my notebook and pen, and ran off in a panic. That was my home, and yet I was treated like a filthy rat, chased out and scolded by everyone. "Slut, shameless, how dare you show your face here!" "Yeah, wrecking someone else's family—disgusting!" I ran and ran, without stopping, until I couldn't go any farther ... Every inch of my body throbbed with pain—intense, raw pain. I didn't know how long I'd been running, but when I finally stopped, I was gasping for air. I raised my hand and slapped myself hard across the face. The sting helped dull the numbness in my heart. I hated myself—hated that I couldn't speak, couldn't scream, couldn't even defend myself. Why did I run like a coward? That was my home. He was my husband. Why should I be the one to take the fall? ... I followed the path etched in my memory, step after step, until finally—an hour later—I reached the neighborhood where I'd grown up. But standing at the entrance, staring at the familiar streets and buildings, I froze. I couldn't bring myself to go in. What if ... what if Mike had lied to me? What if Mom and Dad were still inside, waiting for me, just like they always had? "Hey, you selling? How much for a night?" A drunk guy leaning against a pole, reeking of weed, leered at me and let out a low whistle. I turned and saw a man stumbling out from beside a trash can, swaying as he made his way toward me. What happened to the security around here? I hadn't been back in three years—everything looked different, strange. And that unfamiliarity... it scared me. "Get lost!" I snapped, keeping my distance as I tried to head toward what used to be my home. "Well, look at that—got some fire in you, huh?" The drunkard staggered closer, tossed his cigarette at me, and suddenly grabbed my arm. "Skinny like you? Bet you're easier too!" "Get lost!" I slapped him, panic surging through me as I stumbled backward. The drunkard's face twisted with rage. Furious at being hit, he raised his hand to strike back. The scene of being beaten appeared in my mind, and I dropped to the ground, curled up tightly, hands shielding my head. During those three years, I endured countless beatings—so many that the instinct to protect myself had become second nature, etched into my very bones. But the blow never came. Instead, I heard a sharp cry, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground. A tall figure stood before me, cloaked in darkness, shielding me completely. I looked up in fear, but against the light, I couldn't see his face clearly. Still, the sound of his voice alone was enough to send a chill down my spine. "Get lost." He wore a hood that shadowed his features, but his towering frame and commanding presence made it clear—this wasn't someone you'd dare to cross. The drunkard scrambled to his feet and bolted without another word. "Natalie, how come you're being bullied again ... " His voice was rough, and the hostility around him was frightening. My legs gave out beneath me, trembling uncontrollably as I stared at him in shock and disbelief. It was him—Jack! He was alive! He had followed me all the way to Messa. Jack, the ruthless second-in-command of the Black Sail—the most feared pirate group along the Calipo coast ... He was also the worst nightmare of those three years!