Intimate Conspiracy

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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In Green City.

Bush Building.

In the office of the CEO.

Sitting beside the office table, Johnson Bush signed his signatures quickly. His handsome face looked too indifferent to others due to he kept a straight face all the time.

Imposing manner was exuded from him, warning others that's his territory.

The phone rang, he looked at the phone screen for a moment, and then picked up the phone to his ear.

"What's up?"

The two words were spoken from his mouth indifferently, without any emotion.

On the other end of the line, Jennifer Watson hesitated for a moment. Finally, she said, "Johnson, Sophie is back. She is in South Cemetery."

Silently, on the other end of the line. The speaker rang off before Jennifer spoke again.

The tension in the office was intensified. The nip had broken off with a snap, leaving a cut in the paper.

The deep and bottomless eyes twinkled with excitement. The surging emotions turned to calm after an instant.

Sophie Wood. Johnson's lips moved soundlessly and said the two words.

After three years, you finally came back.

At the gate of South Cemetery.

Turning around again, Sophie looked at the only gravestone not far away. With a heavier heart, she left the cemetery.

Preoccupied with too many problems, she walked with her head lowered so that she didn't notice a car was coming towards her at full speed when crossing the intersection. At such an urgent point, an arm of a mature male put around her waist with a strong power, and pulled her into an embrace tightly.

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