Becoming the Alphas Pawn

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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Cleo's POV

“And now, shall we all rise to our feet as we present the valedictorian award to none other person than..,” the Mc instructed, and we all rose to our feet.

“Who do you think it'll be?” Amelia asked.

“I don't…” I started only to be cut off by the MC.

“Cleo Benson,” he announced, his voice cutting through the tensed air of the hall.

The crowd erupted in applause and gasps, filling the room with a vibrant energy. I looked around in shock as the sound of my name seemed to echo in the hall.

My heart stopped as I stared into nothing, I staggered and sank into my chair, my hand gripping the edge of my seat.

Were they cheering for me? Or was there another Cleo Benson I wasn't aware of?

“Go, Cleo!” Amelia shouted, her voice rising above the others. “You've got this!”

It took a while for me to accept reality, but the cheers didn't stop. I was urged to come up stage, so I confidently rose to my feet and raised my gown slightly to avoid tripping, my hands trembling as I carefully walked up to the podium. I had already received four departmental awards, and to think I would receive the Valedictorian award was a dream I dared not dream.

As I stared into the sea of over two hundred graduates standing in the hall, their smiles and cheers filled me with overwhelming emotion. Tears welled up in my eyes.

“I…I didn’t know if I truly deserved this award,” I began, my voice thick with emotion, silencing their cheers. “But if I was chosen among all of you incredible students, then…I guess I must have.”

A tear rolled down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away. “This,” I continued, holding up the award, “this is for all the sleepless nights, the sacrifices, the challenges we’ve all faced. I want to thank the board, the authorities, our lecturers…and I dedicate this award to every single one of my fellow students.”

As I spoke, I noticed a ripple of surprise pass through the crowd. Confused, I wondered if my vision was blurred by the tears. People were pulling out their phones, recording videos, and taking pictures. Suddenly, the thought of being the center of attention, especially on social media, made me feel anxious. I instinctively turned to hide my face.

And that’s when I saw him.

Miley, my boyfriend, was kneeling on one knee with a white bouquet in one hand and a small box in the other.

My heart skipped a beat.

“Cleo,” he said, his voice steady despite the tremor of nerves I could see in his eyes. “Will you please marry me?”

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