Cinderella Fell For Her Bully

While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her

Katie Oettgen

As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.

Romance Crime Revenge Pregnancy Enemies to Lovers Pregnancy Personal Growth

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I grip my book tight to my chest as I run in tears, making my way to the bathroom. The tears, clouding my eyes make it difficult for me to see properly and I bump into someone, the chocolate on my body affecting the clothes of the person.

'I'm so sorry,' I sniff, not raising my head to even see who it is. I make to leave, but an arm is outstretched in front of me and connects with the wall, preventing me from leaving. The chocolate poured on me is sticky and I want nothing more than to lock myself up in the girl's bathroom and cry my eyes out on why my life is always the most miserable.

I clean my tears and make to raise my head, but then he places his arm on my head and forces it to stay still, making me unable to see who it is, but my instincts are already screaming his name. Jonathan.

I can already tell by his veiny forearms.

'Look at you, so weak,' he tuts, giving me a condescending look. I don't raise my head to see him, but I can feel it.

'Please...' I stuttered. 'Let me go. It's itchy and I need to wash it off before it destroys my hair,' my voice cracks, I hug my book tighter.

'You don't get to go, Sera. Not until I say so,' he leans, growling into my ear and as his breath tickles my ear, I feel goosebumps rise in every part of my body, making it tremble.

'What do you want from me, Jonathan? Do you want to hit me some more or even prank me? Huh?' I look up at him this time, my heart hammering hard in my chest. This would actually be the first time I stood up to him ever since I can remember.

It seems my question catches him off guard because his eyes widen with a tiny flicker of surprise, and then it changes back to a dark look. I take a shaky breath.

'You have no idea,' he mutters, grabbing a handful of my chocolate coated hair.

'I want to break you into pieces,' his voice grows dark and I shudder because it sounds as cold as ice.

I want to ask what it means, but then he leans forward and sniffs my hair, then closes his eyes as if he is relishing the smell.

He opens his mouth to speak but before he can, a voice interrupts him.

'Well, well, well, if it isn't booger,' the voice gets near and I don't even bother to turn because I know for sure it's Whitney. A literal thorn in my flesh, in fact, the most painful one.

Jonathan steps back, still gripping my hair, he pushes it to the locker and makes to leave, but Whitney intertwines their arms together.

'Where are you going, Jonathan?' She asks, kissing him on the cheeks while staring at me.

Yeah, that's right. I don't know why, but Whitney always tries to make out with him each time in front of me. I have no idea why, but it's disgusting. Having to watch two people act lovey-dovey in front of me? Disgusting.

'You can leave,' she dismisses me.

'I never said she could leave,' his cold voice cut through, making even Whitney flinch.

'And why can't I leave?' I ask, throwing away my fears.

'Because I'm not done with you,' he says. I can feel Whitney glaring daggers at me. I ignore her.

'You know what? I'm not just some toy that you can have and do whatever you want to!' I snap and run into the girl's bathroom, locking myself in one stall.

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