HIS SEDUCTIVE EX WIFE

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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"Madam, should I reheat your dinner?" The maid's voice was soft, not certain of what to say.

Isabella looked down at the meal before her, she hadn't touched it. A bottle of red wine, roasted veggies and steak were served.

Everything Nolan enjoyed.

She had carefully prepared everything in the hopes that he would return home on time for once

Her fingers tightened around the table's edge. No Maria, thank you. "You're free to sleep."

Maria nodded after hesitating, giving Isabella a look filled with something close to sympathy before heading out.

Isabella looked at the wall clock and sighed.

12:07 a.m.

She wasn't shocked. Yes she was disappointed, perhaps hurt. But taken aback? Never.

She was surrounded by the icy silence of the mansion. Everything appeared flawless because of the golden glow cast by the chandelier above.

Classy, without love.

Her mind went back to a time as she rubbed a finger over the rim of her wine glass.

At one point, Nolan had hurried home just to see her smile. He had pulled her in his arms as if he couldn't bear to be apart from her for another moment, kissed her in the doorway and whispered he had missed her.

That Nolan was gone. Or perhaps he had never existed.

She was brought back to reality by a sudden rush of wind that shook the glass windows. She looked at the front door, somewhat expecting it to swing open. He wouldn't come. Not yet.

She reached for the fork, forcing herself to take a bite.

The food had no taste and was cold. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and chewed mechanically.

The mansion was a masterpiece, designed to impress rather than comfort. Marble floors, high ceilings and priceless wall arts. It should have felt like home but it didn't.

This house had been her favourite. She had once thought it would be great starting a life here with Nolan. Now, it felt like a prison made of glass. Beautiful but fragile, waiting for the smallest crack to shatter completely.

The sound of footsteps made her pause. Not Nolan. His shoes had a heavier sound, more deliberate. The staff. The ones who still moved around, pretending not to notice how their mistress sat alone every night, waiting for a husband who barely remembered she existed.

They never said anything. Never asked questions. Just like she never asked where Nolan was when he didn't come home.

She pushed her plate away, appetite gone. She should sleep and pretend she didn't care. Pretend she wouldn't be sitting in this same spot tomorrow, hoping for something different.

Just as she stood, the front door creaked open.

Her heart jumped before she could stop it.

He was home.

Finally.

°°°

Isabella stood frozen as Nolan stepped inside. He ran one hand through his dark hair and untied his tie with the other one. As usual, his expression was unreadable but his sharp features were set in exhaustion.

After giving her a quick acknowledgement, he looked away and shrugged off his suit jacket.

Then the scent hit her.

Not his usual cologne. Not the faint scent of whiskey from business meetings.

Perfume. Expensive. Floral with a touch of vanilla. Not hers.

Isabella's fingers curled against her silk dress. She forced herself to remain motionless but her breath came faster.

Don't overthink it.

She swallowed and spoke, keeping her voice steady. "You're late."

Nolan didn't flinch. Didn't even look guilty. He just rolled his shoulders as if the weight of the day clung to him. "Work ran late."

Her fingernails sank into her hands. "All night?"

A pause. Then a slight shift in his position. "Yes."

That was it. No explanation, no apology. Just that single word, spoken like a fact she had no right to question.

There was denying of the overpowered scent that hung between them.