Mysterious CEO

The Scars She Hid From The World

REGINA MCBRIDE

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

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The snow fell in big flakes in the middle of the night. It was already 1 am, and Cristelle was still outside.

She was in her thin coat, hands pounding the heavy doors of the Barnett mansion as tears streamed down her face. Her shuddering voice carried down the quiet neighborhood. It sounded pathetic even to her own ears.

“Diego... Please open the door,” She begged, her breath clouding before her face, “Diego... Please open up... I really need to see you... Why are you hiding away from me, Diego? I need you.”

She couldn’t count how many hours she’d been standing in the dry and freezing wind.

The doors were finally pushed open from the inside when Cristelle couldn’t even feel her hands.

However, the face revealed behind the doors was not Diego’s.

The person Cristelle saw was Mrs. Barnett, Diego’s mother. She looked as arrogant and privileged as ever, clad in furs and jewelry.

She scoffed as her eyes fell on Cristelle’s swollen belly, “What are you doing here in the middle of the night, Cristelle? You’re waking up our neighbors, and we could get sued. Do you have any sense at all?”

“I’m sorry... Mrs. Barnett,” Cristelle sobbed in the wind, “But I really need to see Diego right now... Could you please let me see him? I will be delivering this month.”

Mrs. Barnett sighed, wrapping the fur even tighter around her body in the wind, “Cristelle, I thought we’d discussed this. It would be best if you stopped harassing my son. You’re not good enough for him. Whatever the delusion you’re holding onto right now, you should face reality and give up your ridiculous ideas. Our house will never accept you as Diego’s wife.”

Cristelle’s eyes went red, her mouth falling open hesitantly, “But... But we’ve engaged…You can’t break the promise.”

“What promise?” Mrs. Barnett snapped sharply, “The engagement only happened because you were Miss Friesley of the rich Friesley house. But who are you right now with your family falling? Your corrupted politician father has been thrown in jail, and your mother killed herself out of shame. Cristelle, just face the fact. Without the wealth and power of your family, you’re just a nobody. The wedding between big families is not charity. We won’t let our son marry a girl living on the street.”

Those words stung Cristelle bloodily. Everything Mrs. Barnett said was true. Cristelle had lost everything.

Her parents had left her, and her sister was nowhere to be found. Now, she was living in a crappy little apartment, doing three part-time jobs to pay her rent.

But she was still pregnant with Diego’s child. The Barnett couldn’t treat her this way.

“I don’t know if I’m still good enough for Diego, Mrs. Barnett... but your son and I love each other... You can’t separate us apart... It’s not fair...” Cristelle clasped her belly with one hand. Her face was pasty pale, and she was sweating in the cold wind.

It was not a good sign. Her body was getting to its limits.

“I want to see Diego. If he really wants to break up with me, I want to hear those words from his own mouth.”

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