Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love
Chapter 66: Her Hidden Past(1)

Chapter 66: Her Hidden Past(1)

Jerica knew better than to let Jefferson shake her. She had waited years to tell him exactly what she thought. Today, she was done with his threats.

"I know why you are doing this, Jerica. You cannot hold something that happened once when you were young over my head forever," Judge Jefferson said, his voice smooth, as if his words were meant to settle things.

A dry laugh escaped her, cold and biting. "Once?" Her words were laced with quiet fury. "Oh, but it wasn’t just a one-time thing, was it, Uncle Jefferson? I thought I was alone in the house, but I wasn’t. You were there...Uncle... " She enunciated his title with acidic disdain, watching Jared’s face from the corner of her eye.

Jared’s face was drawn tight, his jaw clenched, but what truly caught her off guard was the raw, murderous gleam in his eyes. He looked like he was holding back a storm, his hand trembling ever so slightly as his knuckles whitened against his sides. She could practically hear the tendons creaking under the strain.

What’s gotten into him? she wondered, feeling his intensity radiating like heat. She turned away, focusing on the call. He had reasons to hate Jefferson, but this...this was something else entirely. She couldn’t quite place why he looked ready to tear the room apart, and honestly, she didn’t have time to ask.

"From the first time, I knew exactly what you were doing," Jerica continued coldly, her voice unwavering. "I was not a child, not in the way you believed." Her words dropped like stones into the silence of the room.

Jared was like a force of nature behind her, his presence pressing down on her back. Even without looking, she could sense him bristling with tension, a lethal energy building up as his breathing grew heavier. She could feel his anger in the air, thick and stifling, but she ignored it, keeping her focus on Jefferson.

"I’ll meet you in your office tomorr—"

Before she could finish, Jared’s hand darted forward, and with a swift, controlled motion, he took her phone from her grasp and ended the call. The abruptness of it made her blink in surprise. She spun around to face him, her brow furrowing.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, her tone a mixture of irritation and disbelief.

But Jared didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled her into a fierce embrace, his arms wrapping around her as if shielding her from an unseen threat. She could feel the tremor in his body, his breath unsteady, and when he finally spoke, his voice was a raw whisper, thick with emotion.

"You don’t have to meet him," he murmured, his voice shaking. "Not for me. Not for anyone."

There was something deeper in his tone, a vulnerability she rarely saw in him, and it made her heart twist. She’d intended to confront Jefferson for herself, to sever that final thread of control he thought he had over her. But seeing Jared like this, his guard down, needing her comfort...she softened; if only a little.

"Okay," she murmured, her arms wrapping around him in return, letting him draw whatever solace he needed. She rested her head against his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat thundering beneath her cheek.

The day had taken its toll on both of them, and despite her anger, she could sense he was carrying a different kind of weight.

Jared held her close, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go, his hands slowly loosening after a few moments. Finally, he took a deep breath, his grip relaxing.

"Tell me...tell me what he did to you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. She felt his jaw clench against her shoulder, a tremor running through him that betrayed his attempt to stay calm. He was holding back, but only barely.

Jerica stepped back, meeting his gaze. The raw anger and concern etched into his features were palpable, and for a moment, she was taken aback. He looked ready to exact vengeance, his eyes dark and unwavering. She couldn’t quite understand why he was so upset—it was ancient history, something she’d tucked away long ago. But Jared seemed unwilling to let it rest.

She finally realized Jared might have misunderstood her conversation with Jefferson differently.

With a sigh, she offered him a wry smile, hoping to diffuse the tension. "It’s not what you think." She paused, letting her words sink in, hoping he’d understand that some things weren’t as sinister as they seemed. "I saw him...with my mother. I was seven." She shrugged, trying to downplay it, though the memory itself remained sharp and unyielding, like an old scar that never quite faded.

Jared’s face went through a rapid transformation—shock, disgust, and something bordering on horror. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair, his gaze wide with disbelief.

"My...God." He covered his mouth for a moment, then let his hand drop, a string of curses slipping out under his breath. "Jerica..." He reached for her again, his hand brushing her shoulder, but he looked lost, as if the knowledge was too heavy to bear. "That too..." His voice cracked, his brows pulling together in deep sympathy. "My dearest...you shouldn’t have had to see that."

A humorless chuckle escaped her as she waved it off, though she couldn’t help the faint sting of the memory. "It’s fine, really. I was packed off to boarding school shortly after. I made peace with it long ago," she assured him, her tone breezy, dismissive. But there was a careful veil in her words, a layer she had woven around that Chapter of her life.

What she didn’t tell him—what she hid, even from herself sometimes—was that she hadn’t faced it alone. Harold had been there, offering her a quiet, steady presence when her own family couldn’t. Harold, who had been both her solace and her secret, understanding the depth of the wound without ever prying. She tucked that thought away quickly, knowing Jared didn’t need to know that part.

Jared looked at her, still unconvinced, his gaze lingering as if searching her face for any hint of lingering pain. "Really?" he asked, his voice tinged with doubt.

She sighed, giving him a small, sad smile. "Honestly, the worst part wasn’t Jefferson and my mother," she admitted, glancing away.