The Forsaken Bride: Revenge On The CEO

The gold-embossed card felt like a jagged piece of glass against my palm. I stared at the names printed in elegant, swirling ink: Kelvin Uzor and Anabel Williams. My breath hitched, and the air in my small, stuffy apartment suddenly felt too thin to breathe. It felt as if the walls were closing in on me, mocking my loneliness. "Five times, Kelvin," I whispered, my voice cracking in the heavy silence. "I emptied my womb five times for you." I closed my eyes, and the memories rushed back like a bitter flood. I could still smell the cold, sterile scent of the clinics—a smell that had become a permanent part of my nightmares. I remembered the way my hands shook every time I signed those consent forms, the cold metal of the table against my back, and the hollow ache that followed every procedure. And every single time, Kelvin was there. He would stroke my hair with a faked tenderness, his eyes full of rehearsed pity. "It’s for our future, Zainab," he would whisper. "Once the firm goes public, once we are stable, we will have a dozen children and a mansion in Banana Island. Just one more sacrifice for us." I believed him. I poured my savings into his dreams. I sold my gold trinkets to pay for his first office rent. I sacrificed my body and my mental health to clear the path for his success. I thought I was building a throne for my king, a man who would cherish me forever. But today, the king had found a new queen. My mind flashed to Anabel—my "best friend." The woman who had sat on my couch and watched me cry after every loss. The woman who had brought me pepper soup while I recovered, all while she was secretly warming Kelvin’s bed. While I was bleeding and mourning the children I would never hold, she was fitting herself for the life that belonged to me. The pain in my chest was so sharp I thought my heart might actually break. But then, something shifted. The tears that had been threatening to fall suddenly dried up, replaced by a searing, white-hot heat. Kelvin thought I was a broken woman he could just discard like a piece of used tissue. He thought because he had the money and the power now, I was too weak to fight back. He thought I would just fade away into the slums of Lagos while he toasted to his new life. He was dead wrong. I still had my rage. And rage is a powerful currency. I picked up my phone with a trembling hand and dialed a number I had stored under a fake name for years—a number I had hoped I would never need. It belonged to Alexander Thorne, the man they called the "Vulture of Lagos," the only businessman ruthless enough to make Kelvin tremble. "Hello?" a deep, icy voice answered on the second ring. "It’s me," I said, my grip tightening on the wedding invitation until the expensive paper crumpled into a ball. "I’m ready to accept your offer. I want to destroy Kelvin Uzor. I want to take back every drop of blood I shed for him." There was a long, dark pause, followed by a low chuckle. "I’ve been waiting for this call, Zainab. Come to my office. Let’s discuss how we’re going to burn his world to the ground."