THE CRIPPLED CEO’S LITTLE SECRET

#JOCELYN’S POV# “You may go now, Miss Jocelyn.” The guard’s voice echoed through the concrete hallway like a sharp whisper, almost as if he was afraid to wake up the ghosts buried within the walls. I stood there, frozen for a second, the keys of freedom dangling from his belt the only thing that caught the light in the dim room. Go? Just like that? After 1 year and 9 months of counting every second, of tasting the stale prison air, of shrinking into myself every time the cell door clanged shut, he just said it like I was being dismissed from a doctor's appointment. I blinked. “I can go?” I asked, my voice hoarse from disuse, brittle like old paper. He gave a stiff nod. “You’ve served your time.” But it wasn’t my time to serve. I turned slowly, my hands shaking as I began gathering the few belongings I had managed to hold onto. My toothbrush, a cracked photo of me and William, a letter from my mom with the corners worn soft from reading it a thousand times. That was it. That was all that remained of a girl who had once dreamed of love and trust and forever. I had gone to prison for a crime I didn’t commit. And I did it for him. William. I remembered that night so clearly, like a stain I could never wash out. The panic in his eyes when he burst into my apartment, his hands trembling, his breath rapid. “Baby, please… they’re after me. I’ve been framed. If I go down for this, I lose everything, my shot at CEO, my father’s approval... I lose us.” He didn’t even have to ask. He didn’t need to. I loved him, God, I loved him so much it hurt. I would have taken a bullet for him. So what was prison? I stripped off my clothes. Put on his hoodie, his jeans, his cologne. When the police showed up, they saw what they needed to see. And just like that, I was gone. Gone into a system that chews you up and spits you out without caring who you are or what you’ve sacrificed. My own father didn’t lift a finger to help me. Of course he didn’t. I wasn’t his real daughter, just a mistake he made one rainy night, a secret he buried under the mansion’s polished floors. My mother was the only one who cared. She screamed at lawyers, begged reporters, cried outside courtrooms. But she couldn’t save me. And now… here I was. Free. Standing under the blazing sun outside the prison gates, squinting into the distance as sweat clung to my back. I waited. Surely William would come. Surely he hadn’t forgotten. He promised he’d be there the day I got out. Minutes turned into an hour. Nothing. No text. No call. No car. I waited longer. My throat dry, my legs aching. Still nothing. The ache in my chest grew unbearable. Where was he? Where was the man I gave everything up for? Finally, with no other choice, I flagged down a cab. I had no money on me, but I’d pay when I got to his apartment. I had to believe he’d be there. That he’d make it right. The cab ride was a blur of honking horns and my pounding heart. I stared at my reflection in the window, my skin paler, eyes sunken, hair limp. I didn’t look like the Jocelyn from before. We reached his apartment building, and as I stepped out, the cab driver’s voice sliced through the heavy air. “Hey! You haven’t paid me!” “I—I will. Just let me call someone. Please.” He grumbled under his breath, clearly not trusting me. I didn’t blame him. I looked like a mess. A liar. A crook. I borrowed his phone, my fingers trembling as I dialed the number etched into my bones. William’s number. He picked up. My heart leapt. “William… it’s me. Jocelyn. I’m finally out of—” Click. He ended the call. The silence on the line was louder than any scream. The cab driver snatched the phone. “You don’t have the money, and you entered my cab. Get lost before I call the cops.” He didn’t have to tell me twice. I stumbled away, my chest burning. I thought of my mother. Why hadn’t she come? Had something happened to her? She would never abandon me, never. But it had been weeks since her last letter. The silence scared me. But first, I needed to see him. I missed him so much. I found my way into his building, my feet moving like they didn’t belong to me. I pressed the code into the keypad outside his apartment door. My heart stuttered. He hadn’t changed it. Was that a good sign? The door opened. The scent hit me first, familiar cologne, sweet perfume, something else… I stepped in and shut the door quietly. My breath hitched as I saw his shoes by the door. Mine used to be right next to them. Then I heard it. Moaning. No. No, no, no. I moved like a ghost, following the sound down the hallway, the walls closing in on me with every step. I reached the bedroom and stopped, peeking inside like my soul already knew what was waiting for me. And there he was. William. The man I sacrificed everything for. The man who made me believe in love. His body tangled with another’s, his voice husky with desire. And her, my stepsister. Megan. My hand flew to my mouth as I gasped, bile rising in my throat. My knees threatened to give out beneath me. He looked up. His eyes widened, and for a split second, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Jocelyn…” he muttered, pulling the sheet over himself. Megan sat up, smug and shameless, not even trying to cover her bare chest. “Oh. Look who the prison dragged in.” My chest heaved. My heart cracked in two. “How could you do this to me, William?” My voice was barely above a whisper, yet it sliced through the room like a blade. “How?”