He Saw My Soul, Not My Scars

couldn't pause his video game. He dismissed my kidnapping as a prank

dered doctors to carve skin from my

as wrong. I exposed his affair, took

n, begging for a second chance. "Elena lied to m

ho had destroyed my life,

ine bottle and smash

pte

ina

love draining away until nothing but a hollow ache remained. He was a tech CEO, charismatic, brilliant ev

ngers flying across the controller. My throat was closing, my chest tightening with a terrifying

, barely able to force the words out. My vision blurred. H

inutes? You always do

ere to unclog the air. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through the haze of

ictorious fanfare of his digital world silenced, but the real-world danger still ignored. He walked slowly, deliberately, to the kit. He fumbled with the clasp, his actions clumsy, as if the urgency was beyond his

oint. But love, or what I thought w

own into the back of a van, my mind raced. I imagined Jeremiah, furious and determined, tearing th

n't call this number again," he snap

them, his tone increasingly impatient. He thought it was a prank. He thought my life, my abduction, was a setup, an inconvenience designed to disrupt his day. I survived, not bec

a fragile thing,

hopeful. But a sudden, sharp pain, a gush of blood, and I knew. Panic s

think it's the baby. I need

I'm in the middle of a winning streak. Th

lead, to beg. "They need your consent for

w how important this is to me." His voice harden

ort than I had received from my husband in three years. Each stroke of my name on that consent form was a nail in the coffin of my marriage. The physical pain of the miscarriage, the emptiness th

landed on his array of expensive, meaningless trophies. My hand instinctively reached for the heaviest one, a solid gold plaque. With a scream that tore from my soul,

face a mask of annoyance

who I am?" I asked,

to me, the anger in his voice directed at some unseen business associate. He was already gone, absorbed in

girl from a wealthy family, believed in his vision. I poured my heart, my family's money, into his startu

ng the subtle shifts. His concern when she had a paper cut, his frantic rush when she twisted an ankle. Then, the full-blown pan

eard a maid whisper to another. "She saved h

mily had bailed him out when his company was on the brink of collapse. My family' s massive investment, the one that saved his startup, was a blow to his pri

yguards. They threw me into his private study. Elena was t

ng finger at me. It was a small, superficial burn, the kind

"How dare you touch her, Celina?" He backhanded me, hard. My head snapped back, a sick

my cheek burning, but his gaz

gged me towards his desk. He pressed a button,

iah stated, his voice dangerously

out healing. This was about vengeance. My terror was absolute. I

absolute violation, I saw his face. Jeremiah, standing at the foot of the bed, his eyes fixed on me, cold and triumphant. This w

his voice a venomous whisper, just before t

e, but what remained was a cold, hard resolve: I would not ju