Alphas Regret A Plea for Second Chance

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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*FAYE'S POV*

Should have been a day of joy. It should have been the start of something beautiful. But as I stood in front of the full-length mirror, my reflection staring back at me in that pristine white wedding dress, I couldn't help but feel a knot in my stomach.

The dress was stunning... The lace hugged my body just right, the fabric shimmered under the lights, and the long train swept elegantly behind me. But I didn't see any of that. All I saw was a lie.

This was supposed to be the beginning of my happily ever after, the day I chose to commit my life to Desmond. I should've been excited, filled with anticipation. But instead, I felt like I was suffocating, trapped in a gilded cage I had built for myself.

I glanced over at Desmond, who was seated on a plush chair by the fitting room, his eyes calmly trained on me. His face was unreadable, and his posture relaxed. It wasn't the look of a man who was about to marry the woman he claimed to love. No, it was the look of someone who was merely waiting to see what dress I would pick, the one that would suit his image of the perfect bride.

I could feel my heart racing. The weight of it all was unbearable. For so long, I had been living in a fog, convincing myself that Desmond was the one. But now, as I stood there, with my wedding dress on and my future seemingly set, the truth was undeniable.

He didn't love me.

He never had.

And the worst part? He didn't even care.

Tila.

That was the name that haunted me, the name that had been a constant shadow in the back of my mind. Desmond's real love wasn't me-it was my sister, Tila. I had been blind to it for so long, so eager to play the role of the perfect fiancée. But now, it all made sense. Every time he pulled away, every time he avoided my gaze, every time he found an excuse not to kiss me or hold me-it was because his heart was never mine.

It was always hers.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I glanced down at the bouquet in my hands. The white lilies felt like a joke in my fingers. I could almost hear the whispers from the other brides in the shop, the excited gasps as they dreamed of their wedding days.

But I wasn't dreaming anymore. I was awake. And I was done.

I walked towards him slowly, my heels clicking against the polished floor with each step. Desmond didn't look up and didn't seem to notice the change in my demeanor. His attention was still on the wedding dress I wore, no doubt evaluating it in his head, trying to picture how perfect it would look for the guests.

The bouquet felt heavier in my hands. Without hesitation, I brought it down on his head with a swift, hard motion.

"Faye!" Desmond's eyes widened in shock as he recoiled, lifting his hands to his head, his face flushed with confusion. But I didn't care. I didn't care about his confusion or his attempts to play the victim.

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