78 Chapter 81
Chapter 81 – Scars Revealed, Confessions Dodged
“What did you just say?” I stared at Julian in disbelief, his words hanging in the air between us like poison.
“You heard me,” he slurred, tightening his grip on my wrist. “One last time, Hazel. For old times‘ sake.”
Disgust flooded through me. “Get your hands off me. Now.”
Instead of releasing me, Julian pressed closer, pinning me against the wall with his body. Six years together, and I’d never seen this side of him–this entitled, dangerous stranger wearing my ex–fiancé’s face.
“Come on,” he whispered, his alcohol–soaked breath making me gag. “We were good together. You know we were.”
“Julian, I’m warning you-
His lips crushed against mine before I could finish. I twisted my head away, fury replacing fear.
“Stop!” I shouted, struggling against his weight.
When he didn’t, survival instinct took over. I brought my knee up hard between his legs. Julian doubled over with a howl, releasing my wrist. I took the opportunity to dart toward my door, fumbling for my keys.
But he recovered faster than I expected. His hand grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking me backward.
“You bitch,” he snarled, all pretense of love vanished.
I screamed, hoping my neighbors would hear. The hallway remained silent–most of them still at work at this hour
My umbrella leaned against the wall by my door. I grabbed it and swung blindly bend me. The handle connected with something solid–Julian’s shoulder or chest–and mus grip loosened enough for me to break free.
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“Stop it!” I yelled, keeping the umbrella raised between us like a shield. “This is assault. I will have you arrested.”
Julian’s face was contorted with rage and humiliation. “You wouldn’t dare. Think what it would do to your precious reputation.”
“Try me,” I challenged, backing toward my door. My phone was in my pocket. If I could just-
He lunged again. I swung the umbrella, striking his arm. The force of his momentum sent us both crashing against my door. It burst open–I must not have locked it properly that morning–and we tumbled into my apartment.
Inside, Biscuit erupted into frantic barking. My loyal little dog charged at Julian, teeth
bared.
“Get that mutt away from me!” Julian shouted, kicking out at Biscuit.
“Don’t you dare hurt my dog!” I scrambled to my feet, terror and rage coursing through
- me.
Julian advanced again, backing me toward the kitchen. “Call off your dog and we can talk about this reasonably.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said, reaching behind me to feel for something- anything I could use to defend myself. My fingers closed around my phone on the counter where I’d left it charging that morning.
While Julian was distracted by Biscuit’s persistent barking around his ankles, I quickly
dialed 911.
“Emergency services, what’s your-‘
Julian knocked the phone from my hand before I could speak. It clattered to the floor, the call still connected.
“No one’s coming to save you,” he sneered, grabbing both my wrists this time.
Ε
I fought back with everything I had–scratching, kicking, twisting. My nails raked down his cheek, drawing blood. He retaliated with a backhanded slap that sent me spra onto the floor.
The sting of the blow shocked me into momentary stillness. Julian had never hit me
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before. Never.
Biscuit went wild, jumping and biting at Julian’s pant leg. In my stunned state, I watched as Julian aimed another kick at my dog.
“Leave him alone!” I screamed, finding my voice and strength again. I launched myself at Julian, shoving him away from Biscuit.
We grappled, knocking over a side table. The crash was deafening in my small apartment. Seconds later, pounding footsteps approached in the hallway.
“Hazel? Hazel, are you okay?” Mrs. Chen’s voice called through the door, followed by Mr. Parker’s deeper tones demanding to know what was happening.
“Help!” I shouted. “Please help!”
The door burst open again. My neighbors–Mrs. Chen, Mr. Parker, and the college student from across the hall whose name I’d never learned–stood in the doorway, taking in the scene with horror.
“Get off her!” Mr. Parker rushed forward, yanking Julian away from me.
Julian’s drunken state made him no match for my former military neighbor. Within seconds, Mr. Parker had Julian restrained against the wall.
“Are you hurt?” Mrs. Chen asked, helping me to my feet. Her gentle hands examining the growing bruise on my cheek made tears spring to my eyes.
Before I could answer, police sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder.
“They tracked your call,” the college student explained, pointing to my phone on the floor. “The dispatcher heard everything.”
Relief flooded through me as two officers appeared in my doorway. One took over restraining Julian while the other approached me.
“Ma’am, are you alright? Do you need medical attention?”
I touched my cheek, wincing. “I’ll be fine. Just some bruising, I think.”
“She needs to press charges,” Mrs. Chen insisted firmly. “We all saw him attacking Julian, suddenly seeming to realize the gravity of the situation, adopted a remorseful expression. “Officers, there’s been a misunderstanding. I had too much to drink. Hazel
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and I were just having an argument-
“Save it, the officer cut him off, slapping handcuffs on Julian’s wrists. “Domestic violence isn’t a ‘misunderstanding.”
The next few hours passed in a blur of statements, photographs of my injuries, and paperwork at the police station. Julian sobered up quickly, spinning a tale about being heartbroken and making a drunken mistake. The officers were unsympathetic.
“We’ll need you to come back tomorrow to finalize your statement,” the detective told me. “And you might want to consider a restraining order.”
By the time I got home, it was past midnight. I collapsed onto my bed, Biscuit curled protectively against my side, and cried until there were no tears left.
Morning brought fresh pain as my body stiffened overnight. The bruise on my cheek had darkened to an ugly purple, and fingerprint marks circled my wrists. Concealer covered some of it, but not enough.
I considered canceling lunch with Damien, but something in me rebelled at the thought of letting Julian disrupt my life any further.
When I arrived at the restaurant, Damien was already waiting, looking devastatingly handsome in a charcoal suit. His smile disappeared the moment he saw my face.
“What happened?” he demanded, rising from his seat, eyes darting across my poorly concealed bruises.
“It’s nothing.” I said automatically, sliding into my chair.
“That,” he said, gesturing to my face, “is not nothing”
I sighed, knowing I couldn’t hide it. “Julian showed up at my apartment yesterday. He was drunk and… things got physical.”
Damien’s expression hardened to something terrifying. “Did he hit you?”
The flat coldness of his voice sent a shiver down my spine. I nodded slowly.
“He’s been arrested, I added quickly. “My neighbors heard the struggle and called the
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police. I’m going back to the station today to finalize my statement.”
“Give me his full name,” Damien said, pulling out his phone.
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m going to ensure he never comes near you again.”
The protective fury in his voice both touched and alarmed me. I reached across the table, placing my hand over his.
“Damien, stop. Please. I appreciate it, but I don’t want you involved in this mess. I’m handling it through proper channels.”
“Proper channels,” he repeated, voice dripping with disdain. “The legal system that lets men like Julian walk free with a slap on the wrist?”
“Maybe,” I conceded, “but if you get involved, it will become news. ‘Sterling Heir Threatens Fashion Designer’s Ex.’ That’s not what I want. It’s not what you want either.”
His jaw clenched, but I could see he understood the logic. Damien’s family operated in shadow
for a reason. Public spectacles went against everything they stood for.
“Fine,” he finally agreed, though his eyes remained stormy. “But promise me you’ll get that restraining order.”
“I will,” I assured him. “And I’m using this to push the divorce through faster. My lawyer thinks the assault charges will make it difficult for Julian to contest anything.”
Lunch arrived, though neither of us had much appetite. We picked at our food in silence for several minutes.
“I’m sorry,” Damien said suddenly. “I should have been there.”
“You couldn’t have known,” I replied. “And it’s not your responsibility to protect me.”
He looked at me intently. “What if I want it to be?”
My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”
“Hazel Ashworth, I-‘
Panic rose in me. The look in his eyes–I knew that look. He was about to say something that would change everything between us. Something I wasn’t ready to
hear.
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“This steak is amazing,” I interrupted desperately. “Have you tried it with the sauce? It’s perfectly cooked.”
Damien paused, watching me with those perceptive eyes that seemed to see right through me. A small, knowing smile played at his lips.
“Yes,” he said softly. “It’s perfect.”
The moment passed, but the unspoken words hung between us, waiting for a time when I would be brave enough to hear them.
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