From Divorce to Dominance Ex husband Regret

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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~Ariela~

It was my son's sixth birthday_ well, stepson, anyway, but I'd prefer to call him my son even though he practically doesn't see me as his mother.

I was in the kitchen. Making sure everything went perfectly, as I worked alongside the cook to prepare his favorite meal, macaroni and cheese.

My attention was suddenly drawn outside when I heard the screeching sound of Alfred's car wheel.

'They're back, ' I exhaled calmly.

Making sure everything was in perfect order, I excitedly rushed to the sitting room to welcome them.

Alfred had earlier taken him out to God knows where without caring to know if I could join them, perhaps they needed a father-son moment, I assumed.

But as I approached them, my face faltered. Alfred and Daniel walked in alongside Loela. Daniel was clinging to her like his mommy without even noticing my presence.

"Happy Birthday, Daniel!" I exclaimed, but he barely acknowledged my presence; my heart ached, I was practically on his face, but his attention was totally drawn to whatever Loela was whispering to his ear.

I tried to hide my hurt and stepped closer, perhaps he could finally notice my present.

With a wide grin, I crouched down to his height and whispered, " Happy Birthday, baby. Mummy has prepared your favorite to celebrate your special day."

"I'm not hungry, Aunty Loela already fed me my favorite snacks," he said with an indifferent expression.

His rejection felt like a punch to my throat, and I gulped hard. A pang of pain gnawed at my chest as I realized that all my efforts in the kitchen were for nothing.

I decided to try one more time to see if he could really look at me.

"Look, mummy got you a present, your favorite toys," I brought out the gift I'd got for him earlier and stretched it towards him, but he flung it away.

"This is ugly, it is for babies, and I'm no longer one. See, Aunty Loela got me my best birthday gifts," he swayed the boxes of gifts in his arms.

A spasm of sadness and jealousy coursed through my veins, witnessing Daniel choose Loela, his father's secretary, over me, again and again.

A flicker of disappointment clouds my expression, another reminder that he might never see me as his mother.

Even though I wasn't his biological mother, I've done nearly all I could within my capacity to earn his love and warmth. Maybe he could see me as his mother, but all my efforts couldn't crack the wall of his heart.

How would it?

When Alfred practically twisted his son's perception of me, inscribing on the wall of his heart how unworthy I am to be a mother.

Every step I took to reprimand Daniel for any wrong, Alfred sided with him, thereby undermining me and making it look like I was a wicked mother

I had met Alfred Tyler with a month-old Daniel shortly after his first wife's death. I saw a single father yearning for a nurturing environment for his child, a mother for his son, and a woman to call his wife. So I blindly took the opportunity despite my mother's heartfelt warning not to build a tent on another woman's home.

But I allowed myself to be swept away by Alfred's gorgeous and magnetic appearance, falling helplessly in love with him. I practically put my blossoming career on hold to ensure I cared for my new family, prioritizing the safety and well-being of Daniel.

A wave of chill washes over me.

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