The Lies Behind Her Marriage novel Chapter 50

**TITLE: Terms Were Unspoken by Mark Twain**

**Chapter 50: Nate**

Nate.

“Unbelievable! Victor is truly a monster,” Dennis exclaimed, his brow furrowing in disbelief as his fists clenched tightly. “How could he do that to his own daughter?”

Peter, shaking his head in dismay, replied, “Poor Serena. She deserves so much better.”

Nathaniel, still seething with rage from what he had learned, gathered with his friends to share the shocking revelation about Ena. Even as he recounted the tale, a tremor coursed through his body, fueled by the anger that surged within him.

The chilling words of Dr. Lin echoed relentlessly in his mind like a haunting refrain.

“Victor often slapped Serena as a child.”

“He’d starve her when she made mistakes.”

“He often called her useless.”

With a shaky hand, Nathaniel took a sip from his drink, his resolve hardening as he declared, “I’m going to make him pay for what he’s done.”

“What exactly do you plan to do? He’s already behind bars,” Peter questioned, concern etching his features.

“Are you sure about this? Could Dr. Lin have made a mistake?” Timothy chimed in, his brow furrowed with worry.

“I can’t be mistaken. I was just a kid when we met, but I still remember the fear in her eyes, the way she cried when she told me her father locked her in the basement,” Nathaniel snapped, his voice laced with emotion.

Suddenly, a thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. He stood up abruptly, downing another glass before announcing, “I have to go.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dennis asked, his voice rising in alarm. “Nathan, please don’t do anything you’ll regret!”

Without waiting for a response, Dennis hurried after him. “Let me drive you! You’re not thinking straight!”

***

The drive to Norfield City stretched on for three long hours. This was the very town where Nathaniel and his mother had sought refuge, changing their last names and starting anew. It was the place where Nathaniel’s uncle had once lived, a sanctuary from their troubled past.

By the time they arrived at his uncle’s old house, it was already two in the morning.

Stewart Ashford, Nathaniel’s uncle, a man in his fifties with a weary expression, had driven an hour from his new home at Nathaniel’s request. “Nathan, what could possibly be so urgent that you needed to come all the way out here?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Uncle, I need to see all my old stuff,” Nathaniel replied, urgency creeping into his tone.

“Your old stuff?” Stewart echoed, confusion evident on his face.

“Yes, please, Uncle,” Nathaniel implored, his jaw tightening with determination. “I need to find something urgently.”

Stewart had never sold his old house, holding onto it as a reminder of the struggles he had faced in his life. Nathaniel understood that sentiment all too well; his own cherished belongings were still tucked away within those walls.

The bungalow had only two bedrooms—one occupied by Stewart and the other by Blanca. Most of Nathaniel’s possessions were in Bianca’s room, and he often found himself sleeping on the living room couch until life improved and business began to flourish.

Without hesitation, Nathaniel made a beeline for his mother’s room, diving into the old boxes that lay scattered about.

Dennis followed closely behind, his curiosity piqued. “What are you searching for, man?” he asked. “Let me help you.”

“A bracelet,” Nathaniel replied, his voice taut with urgency. “A green nylon bracelet.”

For several minutes, the three of them—Dennis, Nathaniel, and even Stewart—sifted through box after box. The act of rummaging through the dusty relics of his past flooded Nathaniel with memories of the hardships they had endured. He stumbled upon old IOU receipts, eviction notices, and a worn-out school uniform—the very one he had stubbornly worn long after he had outgrown it. At the bottom of one box, he found his cracked phone, the same device he had clung to for three years because they simply could not afford a new one.

“I didn’t find anything, Nathan,” Dennis said, disappointment lacing his words.

Nathaniel’s heart sank. He needed to find it. Just as he was about to surrender to despair, his fingers brushed against something familiar. There it was—the nylon bracelet, trapped between a stack of old notebooks.

He held it up to his face, studying the tightly braided green cord, worn yet unmistakably significant.

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