Now, live with that!

By KLS Fuerte

In Never Saw You Coming, the first novel of this romantic thriller saga, Beatrice Jones-Martin, the young Caribbean teacher from Martinique had her first touch with the evil when she discovered the affair that Edward, her English husband and inspiring teacher, had with his student Ariana. This love story takes you from tragedies to reconcil

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Regency Publishers, International
• Release date: Jul 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9781958517703

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Now, live with that!

KLS fuerte

Copyright © 2022 KLS fuerte.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without a prior written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review, and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by the copyright law.

ISBN: 978-1-958517-71-0 (PB)

ISBN: 978-1-958517-72-7 (HB)

ISBN: 978-1-958517-70-3 (E-book)

Some characters and events in this book are fictitious and products of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, events or places is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Book Ordering Information

The Regency Publishers, International

7 Bell Yard London WO2A2JR

New York, NY, 10018, USA

[e-mail]

www.theregencypublishers.international

[phone]

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Acknowledgments

Previously …

Prologue

Chapter 1 The cell

Chapter 2 The hidden truth

Chapter 3 Always deeper

Chapter 4 We were doing okay

Chapter 5 Last words to a brother

Chapter 6 You will pay for your sins

Chapter 7 A little light of hope

Chapter 8 Grace came to me

Chapter 9 The big machine in motion

Chapter 10 Surviving

Chapter 11 Prepare for the test

Chapter 12 Another test

Chapter 13 About to escape

Chapter 14 First escape

Chapter 15 Escape whilst you can

Chapter 16 Duty, duty, duty!

Chapter 17 The returns

Chapter 18 About to cross the line

Chapter 19 Crossing the line

Chapter 20 Crossing another line

Chapter 21 What a wonderful world

Chapter 22 Little escapees

Chapter 23 Plans in motion

Chapter 24 Let’s have some real fun!

Chapter 25 Take me away

Chapter 26 A change is coming

Chapter 27 Golden journey

Chapter 28 Happy Birthday Beatrice!

Chapter 29 Believe me!

Chapter 30 La vie en Rose

Chapter 31 Return to reality

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my mother, Elizabeth for her unconditional love in making my writing dream a reality and believing in me. Thank you to my children, Sèverine and Sébastien, for their inspirations, their courage and the light they bring into my life every day. A special thank you to my amazing partner Marko, my pillar of love and strength, for his unreserved support to keep the dream alive.

I would also like to thank all my family and friends for being there, with me along my writing journeys, and especially Gaëlle, my talented friend, who totally understood the images and symbols I had in my head, and perfectly drew and designed them for the covers.

Finally, a big thank you to Ian and all the team at The Universal Breakthrough, New York. Thank you for being so kindly encouraging and positive about my writing.

Previously …

Beatrice found herself struggling in her relationship with Edward. What started like a perfect love story turned out to be a living nightmare, where none of the protagonists anticipated the river of tragedies they were swept into.

Originating from Martinique, in the French Caribbean, Beatrice was this well-balanced teacher with overwhelming optimism and naivety, making her a very likeable young woman. She moved from her Martinique upbringing to study in France, at the Sorbonne in Paris, which led her to train in Cambridge to become a teacher. Beatrice was full of hope and dreams when she started teaching teenagers in Surrey. She loved her new job. Love came knocking at her door in the shape of Edward, another teacher. He charmed her with his vibrant intellect and energy. They fell in love.

Edward courted her slowly but smoothly, answering her deepest romantic dreams. Once living under the same roof, Edward’s true colours showed to be very dark and Beatrice became caught between her love for this man who could be so perfect, and her fear of this man who could be so hideous.

Edward seemingly manipulated Beatrice, making it impossible for her to truly rebel and leave him. She never saw him coming with all his talented and deceiving eloquence. When challenged or questioned, he repeatedly lost his temper and verbally abused her, but also showed the most forgiving nature filled with remorse.

Their life together floated from love and tenderness to hatred and aggression. A life of self-destruction, with hidden bursts of romance, such was Edward and Beatrice’ life. Entangled in a myriad of shocks and never-ending incidents.

From the first touch with evil when Beatrice discovered the affair that Edward had with his 17 year old student, to the reconciliation attempts, the suicide attempt, the forgiveness and the lost illusions, they fell into a spiral of traumatic events which led them both be arrested and locked into police cells.

Prologue

Beatrice Jones-Martin, you are guilty of harassing Ariana Mainyul. Harassment is a crime. You are condemned to 6 months in prison!

No! I did not harass her, I was trying to protect her from him! From Edward! He had tried to kill himself, I needed to warn her! I shouted desperately to the judge and the jury of 12 gathered in front of very dark and tall wooden panels. They were all staring at me, with no expression on their faces. None were showing any signs of sympathy. I could not distinguish their faces clearly, they were too far. The tears in my eyes made my vision too blurry, but I could feel their cold stare on my bare shoulders, wrapping me like a fog. I knew I was doomed. Who could come to rescue me anyway?

You are guilty of harassing Ariana Mainyul! You made life threats. The judge paused and pointed his finger towards me repeating even more severely than before: You drove to her house and spied on her until you could see her and scream at her in the middle of her road! You terrified and tormented her for weeks! You should be ashamed of yourself! You do not deserve to be a teacher! The cold tone of his voice frightened me, and he looked at me with the angriest eyes I had ever seen. I cried, and cried screaming: No, you cannot do that to me! I AM the victim! Not her!

Take her back to her cell! The judge’s words sounded like a ferocious dog barking at the officer who was standing next to me. Intimidated but diligent to obey, the officer grabbed my wrist and pulled me hard. I missed my footing and tripped. I could not control my fall. My head hit the wooden floor so hard, I woke up! I was lying on a cold concrete floor, humid, smelly and dirty. My black linen dress was soaking wet on my chest and legs. I looked around me, touched my forehead, there was no pain. I sat up and looked around me once more, to try and get my senses back. If I had any senses left.

1

The cell

Monday

04-10-04

Slowly, the real and live nightmare hit me again. I was still in the police cell, not in a court room! My dream had seemed so vivid! I must have fainted and collapsed but no one had bothered to check upon me. I had lost track of time. I touched my wrist to look at the time, but there was no watch. I desperately looked up searching for a clock, but there was no clock ticking, only dark grey and dirty tall walls surrounding me, like a prison without air.

They were partly painted royal blue, but the blue was dirty, filled with graffiti I could not understand, and had nothing royal about it. A barred window, placed really high up, did not allow me to see outside, it was there just to let you know when it was day or night. This was the most depressive place I had ever been in my whole life. This place was not a dream, it was not a nightmare, it was real, cold and scary. I could feel my breathing accelerate as my eyes looked around the dirty suffocating space.

A concrete bench, built out of the wall, stood in front of me, lifeless. I got up and walked towards it. My coat had been taken away from me, so I had nothing to sit on that would make this concrete a little softer. The cell was narrow with a tiny toilet behind a small internal brick wall, but it had no front door. I approached to try and stop the dripping noise I could hear. It was coming from the toilet bowl leaking from some brownish water inside, utterly revolting, disgusting to the eyes and foul to the soul. From the blue door at the entrance, you could not see the toilet, but a camera was perched on the ceiling, there was no privacy. There was probably no one watching that camera, otherwise they might have been concerned to see me unconscious on the floor. Actually, I was hoping that someone could see how desperate I was, to take me out of that cell. No one came. I remained alone and lost, in that small dirty cell, with a dripping toilet tapping on my mind like a bad rhythm to drive me insane. I sat on the concrete bench and I waited, waited, and waited. Waited for what? Wait for God? Where was he?

There were loud noises in the corridor, noises I could not decipher, doors opening and slamming. You will regret this! I’ve done nothing! Let go of me! People were screaming insults and orders outside.

Suddenly, I heard: I need to eat! I’m sick! I need food! That was Edward screaming. I distinctly recognised his loud voice in the middle of the turbulent noises. He sent me into a panic. My chest immediately contracted, my throat tightened and my mouth felt dry. I became breathless with palpitations accelerating dangerously and compressing pains in my chest were increasing with a growing tension. Pearls of sweat ran down my forehead. My dress was already damp from the court room nightmare, now it felt cold on my sweaty skin. I started to shake again, uncontrollably with knots in my stomach. I clenched my fists in a hopeless effort to control my body reactions to his voice, but the tension, fear and anger were only getting higher and higher, creating an upsetting mix inside of me. Oh shup up and stop screaming, you fool, you will get some food! I heard an officer silence him, but that did not help me recover my senses.

I needed my beta blocker tablets now, they were in my bag. I needed them to slow the palpitations which were preventing me from breathing and thinking calmly.

Press the red button by the door! Press the red button by the door! Press the red button by the door! was the only thought that kept stamping heavily in my head. I pressed that red button and an officer came. I heard him approaching, so I stood behind the blue door to talk to him through the bars. I am not feeling well, I need my tablets from my bag.

What tablets Love? he asked. Why was he calling me Love? There was nothing lovely about me right now, was there?

The tablets I take when I have heart palpitations, please can I have them? I asked.

We need to check first he mumbled and left.

A moment later, he returned.

What are they called? Are they the pink tablets? he asked.

Yes, they are I told him with a weakened voice. I was scared he was going to change his mind or ask me more questions.

He opened the door and said in a stern but official tone: Follow me, you’ve got to be checked by medical staff first. I followed him back to the main reception. There, a guy in an ambulance outfit was sitting by a small desk. He turned around and looked at me, inquisitively. He then opened his medical case and took out a blood pressure device which he attached onto my arm. He seemed satisfied by the reading. He looked at me and said You do not need the tablets, you’ll be alright. You just need to calm down!

But I’m not well, I need them! I shouted with a trembling angry voice, but I felt too weak to scream as loud as I wanted to. I had no strength.

No Love, you’ll be fine, I’m telling you! He replied insisting, tilting his head on his side as though this move would silence me. He was so dismissive, that I wanted to burst out in tears, humiliated, but I held myself together, gathered some energy from within and instead of crying, I shouted: And I’m telling you that I need those tablets to calm the palpitations, I am really struggling to breath, please!

The officer, standing behind me, suddenly pulled me back towards the long corridor and back into the cell. I could hardly believe what had just happened. There was no way I could physically do anything against these men around me who just could not understand me. I sat down on the concrete bench and started to cry again, the growing feeling of distress was terrifying. I had no idea of the time and no idea of what would happen to me next.

Suddenly the door opened, and a Black woman appeared with a tray of steaming warm food: mashed potatoes, peas and slice of chicken breast next to a plastic cup of cold water. She was wearing a blue blouse and left the tray on a small elevated surface by the door. A different policeman stood behind her as she did that. She looked at me puzzled, worried, embarrassed, or angry for seeing me there. I could not decide and did not dare insisting on making eye contact with her either. I thought of my mother and felt a punch of shame hitting my stomach.

Beatrice! Qu’est-ce que tu as fait? Cet Edward mérite la corde au cou! Pourquoi tu ne m’as rien dit? Tu dois sortir de là!¹

My mother’s words sounded so loud in my head, I felt her presence in my back in the cell. Had she been watching from a glass window, she would have been shocked, disappointed, anxious but deeply furious.

The officer locked the door after the Black woman and I heard their footsteps going in the distant long corridor. The cutlery and plate on the plastic red tray were white plastic and so was the cup, very small. I had always