A VOW TO HATE

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 Kickass Heroine Comeback Revenge

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A message arrived with five attached photos.

Those were photos of entangled clothes, hands clasped tightly, crumpled sheets, a blurred reflection in the bathroom mirror...

This wasn't the first time Rona Lewis had received such a provocation.

The large hand, clutching so hard that it was almost embedded in the flesh of another woman's wrist, was instantly recognizable as belonging to her longtime boyfriend, Darren Williams, with whom she had grown up.

She glanced at the date on the photos. They were taken on their third anniversary.

On that day, Rona, having received an emergency call from the hospital, was told that Darren had been in a car accident. In a panic, she had run through three red lights to get to the hospital.

But as she had arrived, she just saw Darren rushing into the emergency room, carrying his secretary, Khloe Flynn, who was covered in blood.

He disappeared for nine days, and finally reappeared with Khloe by his side without any explanation.

It was said that Khloe was severely injured and lost her memory while saving Darren, causing her heavy reliance on him.

Feeling guilty, Darren was devoted to tenderly take care of her and always stayed by her side to repay her favor.

Letting out a cold laugh, Rona closed the chat and finally sent a message to her mother who had been rushing her, "I agree to the marriage."

But before leaving, Rona had three gifts for Darren.

...

Rona was standing in front of Darren's office, with the contract that the legal department was urging to be signed clutched in her hand.

At first, she habitually wanted to push the door open and walk in.

Everyone in the company knew about her relationship with Darren, so formalities were never needed.

But today, she gently knocked at the door after she hesitatingly held her hand over the door for a moment.

Inside, there was rustling sounds mixed with a woman's soft laughter.

Rona's heart tightened. But she couldn't stop herself from pushing the door open.

The scene in the office she saw was like a slap in her face.

Darren was leaning against the desk, with Khloe almost entirely nestled in his arms, adjusting his tie with her slender hands.

Sunlight streamed through the picture windows, outlining a silhouette of an intimate couple.

"Darren, here are the documents..." Rona's voice was caught in her throat.

Both Darren and Khloe turned to Rona.

Khloe's face still bore a faint blush. A flicker of panic crossed Darren's eyes before he regained his usual composure.

He naturally distanced himself from Khloe, striding quickly toward Rona.

"Rona?" As he reached for the documents, his fingers slipped between hers, interlocking them, "Why did you come up here yourself? Miss me?"

His hand was warm and dry, the touch Rona was most familiar with.

For the past three years, his hands had secretly squeezed her fingertips under the conference table, held her waist at an annual party to declare her identity as his girlfriend, and draped a coat over her shoulders during late-night overtime.

But now, she only felt the heat from it was uncomfortably burning.

Instinctively, Rona tried to pull her hand back, but she couldn't as Darren tightened his grip.

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