The Scars She Hid From The World

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.

Modern Revenge Scheming Kickass Heroine Comeback Revenge

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"From Urgent News Flash, there was a rear-end collision on Highway 257. A drunk truck driver collided with a taxi in front, causing it to flip over. The extent of injuries is not yet known, but witnesses say a pregnant woman about to give birth was inside."

The sounds of sirens, screams, and traffic were deafening.

The noise battered Kimberly Holden's ears, and the air reeked of blood.

Barely conscious, she managed to grab her phone and dialed a number.

Just as the call was about to drop, someone picked up.

A familiar female voice responded, "Kimberly, Declan is in the shower and can't come to the phone. What's the matter? Is it urgent?"

At that moment, Kimberly's heart sank.

It was Valerie Walsh! Of course!

Always Valerie, the beloved adopted sister Declan Walsh had grown up with, the one who made him neglect her, block her number, even on her due date.

With her eyes closed, Kimberly felt a warm stream beneath her, signaling the life inside her fading. Despite her agony, she begged, "Help me... Highway 257... Save my child..." Her words were hard to speak.

The sudden accident had knocked down the barriers on both sides, completely blocking the highway. Cars couldn't go forward or backward, and rescue vehicles were trapped outside.

The process of deploying a helicopter was too complicated. However, Kimberly knew that the Walsh family owned a private chopper. If Declan could send it over right away, there was still a chance for hope.

"I'm sorry, Kimberly. Declan is busy with my birthday preparations today and can't address this," said the voice, sounding naive yet harsh.

Then the line went dead.

Kimberly fell to the ground, the smell of gasoline urging her to escape before an explosion.

But she felt a sudden acceptance of her fate.

In her last moments, she thought about her twenty-five years, half spent loving a man who didn't love her back.

From the spoiled heiress of the Holden family, she had become a disgraced figure, publicly embarrassed.

She had gambled everything of the Holden family's property, yet failed to gain even a shred of Declan's genuine love.

She was exhausted and had lost the will to love him again.

This life taught her about poor judgments, and she promised herself not to make the same errors in another life.

"Mrs. Walsh, are you really going to wear this pink couture dress to the charity auction tonight? Even though Mr. Walsh..." Maggie, the housekeeper, paused, then gently continued, "This short dress seems too casual. Maybe choose something different?"

After her suggestion, she watched anxiously for the woman's reaction in the mirror.

Having worked for the Walsh family for many years, Maggie understood Kimberly's deep love for Declan. To win his approval, Kimberly carefully matched her lifestyle to his preferences.

Kimberly looked at the familiar reflection, her heart racing.

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