The Scars You Never Saw

Icy water flooded lungs that had long ago turned to fibrous stone.

Suffocation wasn't a feeling. It was a thousand hands crushing my throat.

Roman hauled me out of the water. Violent. Rough. He expected me to kneel. To beg. Like I used to.

I didn't.

I opened my mouth. A retch. Bright, scarlet blood splattered across his pristine white suit. Like blooming roses.

My hand shook as I reached up. Stained crimson. I cupped his face. His expression twisted in horror.

My lungs hissed. Air mixing with pink foam. Darkness clawed at the edges of my vision. I looked at the man who hated me to his core. Softly.

"Roman. I'm dying. Are you happy?"

Chapter 1

The day they brought me back, I stared at my reflection in the car window. I stared at my reflection, barely recognizing the pointed chin and gaunt cheeks that stared back. Three years ago, I was proud and radiant. Now, I was just pathetic.

Camden sat in the front seat. His gaze in the rearview mirror held nothing but disgust. "Stop acting pitiful. Who are you trying to impress? You spent three years in the country, not a war zone."

His voice dripped with venom.

"You stole twenty years of Kinsley's life. Consider this a down payment on the interest."

The old me would have screamed. I would have slapped him across the face. But I wasn't the proud, arrogant daughter anymore. I curled my fingers into the hem of my yellowed shirt. Squeezed. Submission.

"Understood."

The car stopped. Camden told the driver to take it to the wash immediately. Because I had been inside it. He thought I was filthy.

We weren't at the house. We were at the private club. My brother, the one who used to adore me, brought me here for one reason. Public humiliation.

"Get out."

I didn't have the right to say no. I pushed the door open. My fingers went numb.

The first person I saw in the VIP box was Roman. The man I had loved with a manic, shameless obsession for ten years. Everyone in the city knew I was crazy for him. I was a stalker. A joke. Roman hated clingy women. But I never knew when to quit.

Three years later, he was different. He sat there, darker. More composed. Radiating an aura of dangerous, untouchable power.

"Why is she here?"

His voice was distinct. Displeased. The rest of the room turned to look.

"Who is this trash? Why is she so tacky?"

Someone recognized me.

"Wait. Isn't that the ex-heiress? She looks like a ghost. Is she still chasing Roman? Give it up!"

"Exactly. Look at her. Roman is engaged to Kinsley now. You don't have a chance."

They were vultures waiting for a carcass. I bit my lip. Tasted the bitterness.

"I didn't know my place before. I won't bother you again. Please, Mr Mr. Taylor. Let me go."

Roman raised a brow. He expected me to lunge at him. The surprise in his eyes vanished instantly. "Why did you come back?"

He wasn't going to let me off the hook.

I clenched my fingers. Looked down to hide the trembling. "Franklin and Agnes Mom and Dad wanted me back."

I took a sharp breath. Forced the words out. "I know I was wrong. I promise. I will never harass you again. I won't even go near Kinsley."

I just wanted to survive. Please don't send me back to the country.

His tone dropped to absolute zero. "Do it again, and no one can save you."

"I know."

I ignored the sneers burning into my skin. I forced a smile. "I wish you and Kinsley a lifetime of happiness. And a house full of kids."

It was a genuine blessing.

Roman's face darkened. "Get out!"

Camden stood by the door. Watching. Smirking. His objective was complete.

Chapter 2

Winter had officially claimed the city. The cold didn't just bite. It gnawed.

My coat was thin. A cheap, synthetic thing washed until the fabric was practically gauze. It offered zero protection against the wind.

Camden wasn't coming back. He had left me on the curb.

The family estate was nine miles away. I could walk it. I had to. I pulled the flimsy coat tighter against my ribs.

Three hours. One foot in front of the other.

When I finally reached the gates, no one opened them. Ruth stood behind the glass of the front door. She looked uneasy. Fidgeting. Her hand hovered over the lock, then dropped. She wasn't allowed to let me in.

I just stood there. I mouthed the words through the window. It's okay. I gestured for her to go away.

By midnight, the snow started. I huddled under the metal street sign. A stray dog.

Three years ago, I was the villain. Everyone believed I hired a thug to crush Kinsley's hand. To ruin her. Roman didn't ask for proof. He just handed me a DNA test. A single piece of paper that evicted me from heaven and dropped me straight into hell.

My biological father. Lester. A drunk. A gambler. A monster.

When he drank, I became his punching bag. He would pin me to the ground and beat me. But I was the "big sister." I had to work part-time jobs. Anything to earn cash. To support Kyle. My "brother."

If I didn't bring home money, they beat me together. I lost count of how many times I almost died.

I used to call Roman. I would hide in the bathroom, fingers shaking, punching in the only number that mattered. Begging him. Take me home. Please.

He would hang up. Or he would ask the question that haunted me.

"Have you admitted your mistake yet?"

What mistake?

At first, I had pride. I was young. I refused to confess to a crime I didn't commit. Until the night Lester nearly cracked my skull open. I grabbed the phone. Blood dripped onto the screen. I dialed Roman again.

"I was wrong," I whispered. My voice broken. "I did it. I admit it. Just can you come get me?"

Roman paused. The silence on the line was colder than the snow. "That is your home, Felicity. Stop the drama."

The memory slammed into me. The past and the present blurred. I couldn't tell if I was in hell or just on the doorstep of it.

I couldn't go back to the country. I wouldn't survive another week with Lester. I wouldn't chase Roman anymore. I just wanted to breathe. To live a quiet, invisible life.

The wind picked up. A blizzard.

My body started to shake. Violent shivers that rattled my teeth. Then came the heat. A fever spiked, burning through my veins. The old scars on my backremnants of Lester's beltbegan to throb.

My hands I looked at them. Three years ago, they were delicate. Manicured. Now they were swollen. Red. Covered in chilblains. They looked like sausages. The itch was maddening. I scratched until the skin broke and bled.

I curled into a ball on the concrete. My mind started to drift. My lungs felt like they were coated in frost. Sticky. Tight. Suffocation.

I burned and shivered through the night until the sun finally broke the horizon.

The front door clicked open. Franklin stood there. Tall. Imposing.

"Did you learn your lesson?"

That was his first sentence to me.

I nodded.

Agnes stood behind him, dabbing at her eyes with a silk handkerchief. "Oh, Felicity you must be frozen."

She sniffled. "You've always had such a bad temper, darling. Your father just wanted to smooth out your rough edges last night."

I shook my head. The movement made the world spin. I dug my fingernails into my palm. Pain was the only thing keeping me upright.

"I'm fine."

My breath came out in a hot cloud. I bit my lip. Tasted iron.

Camden walked out. He scanned me from head to toe. "What is this act? You come back and immediately start playing the victim. Who bullied you this time?"

"No one."

I lowered my head. I was terrified. If they found out what happened in those three years the humiliation would be worse than the cold.

Chapter 3

Franklin ran out of patience first. "Go upstairs. Rest. And change those rags. You look like a disgrace."

The fever didn't break. It raged until the next evening. My brain cooked in my skull. Delirium set in.

A shadow moved in the corner of the room. Instinct took over. I dropped to the floor, curling into a tight ball, shielding my head with my arms.

"I know I was wrong! Don't hit me please, not the buckle don't hit me!"

"Felicity, what the hell are you doing?"

The voice wasn't Lester's.

My eyes snapped open. I gasped. A sound like a drowning victim breaking the surface.

Then the air cut off. My chest seized. My throat closed up. Pins and needles exploded across my skin.

Camden stood over me, his face twisted in annoyance. "What is this? Are you acting out a scene now?"

They didn't know. That winter three years ago. I worked three jobs in the freezing rain. My lungs gave out. Asthma. But after last night in the snow it was back. And it was angry.

I wanted to live. The doctor had warned me. "A few more attacks like this, and your heart stops."

I couldn't stop the coughing. It ripped through me. Then came the taste. Metallic. Hot. Copper flooded my mouth.

Camden saw me choke. He saw the panic in my eyes. For a split second, his arrogance cracked. He looked scared.

Then my brain shut down. Blackout.

I woke up in a sterile room. The smell of antiseptic. A nurse told me to go see the specialist.

Dr. West looked at my scans. He didn't smile. "You need immediate treatment. The pulmonary fibrosis is advancing. There are several severe scar patches on your lungs."

He pushed a prescription across the desk. I looked at the cost. Three hundred dollars a bottle. The total was in the thousands.

My hand trembled. I pushed the paper back. "Dr. West I'm young. I'm strong. Is there is there a generic version? Something cheaper?"

He looked at me. Then he shook his head. A look of pity I didn't want. He rewrote it. Cheaper meds. Less effective. But I could afford the copay.

I walked out of the office, clutching the script. At the end of the corridor, the elevator doors opened.

Roman. And Kinsley.

The real daughter. The golden girl. She looked radiant. Expensive. Her coat probably cost more than my life. They stood together. A perfect, polished power couple.

Kinsley saw me. Her voice was soft, laced with fake concern. "Sis? Are you sick?"

We weren't sisters. We were enemies.

Then Roman looked at me. His gaze swept over me. Cold. Clinical.

I instinctively took a step back. My spine hit the wall. Years ago, a look from Roman would have made my week. Now, it felt like a sniper's laser dot on my forehead. Terror. Pure, primal terror.

"I didn't know you were at this hospital," I stammered, my voice thin. "I'm sorry. I'll leave. I'll find another pharmacy."

I turned sideways, pressing myself against the wall to pass them without touching. I hurried away.

I picked up my cheap medication at the counter. The pharmacist looked at my gaunt frame. He handed me the bag.

"Miss, make sure you take these on time. And eat whatever you like. Focus on staying happy. Okay?"

My fingers went numb around the plastic bag. Eat whatever you like. That's what doctors told patients who didn't have a future.

I shook my head. Hard. I forced the thought out. I wasn't dying. I couldn't be.

Chapter 4

I walked out the automatic doors. Camden was there. Leaning against the hood of his car.

I swerved, trying to bypass him. He mirrored my step. Blocked my path.

"You're walking home?"

I kept my head down. "I didn't know Kinsley was at this hospital. I won't come back here. You don't have to worry."

I tried to step around him again.

Camden's chest heaved. A sharp intake of air. "It's nine miles, Felicity. You're walking?"

I knew my body was failing. I wouldn't make it two blocks, let alone nine miles. "I'll call an Uber."

Camden snatched the pharmacy bag from my hand. "Get in the car. Or I throw these in the sewer."

His thumb pressed hard against the chilblains on my knuckles. A jolt of electric pain shot up my arm. I flinched.

Camden. Still a bully. Still cruel. But the medicine cost money I didn't have.

I surrendered. I got in the back seat.

I took off my coat. Folded it carefully. Placed it on the leather seat to sit on. A barrier. I was afraid to dirty his upholstery.

Camden watched me in the rearview mirror. A deep frown cut into his forehead. He reached back. Grabbed the fabric. He yanked the coat out from under me. Rolled down the window. He tossed it.

It landed perfectly in a curbside trash can.

"You don't need rags," he spat. "I'm warning you. Kinsley is marrying Roman. Stop the schemes. Stop the drama."

Everyone told me to step aside. To yield to her. But what had I actually done?

Panic flared. I lunged for the door handle. Camden hit the central lock.

"Do you have a death wish?"

That coat. I scrubbed dishes for months to buy that coat. I saved every penny. It was my armor for three years. He lived in a tower of ivory and gold. He wouldn't understand hunger. He wouldn't understand cold.

My chest heaved. Violent. Erratic. My vision blurred red.

I leaned forward and slapped him. Hard.

"Stop the car!"

The driver slammed on the brakes. Tires screeched. I shoved the door open.

Camden scrambled out. He grabbed my wrist. Raised his hand high.

Muscle memory took over. I dropped into a crouch. Covered my head with my arms. Protect the skull.

I waited for the blow.

It didn't come.

Camden froze. He let out a cold, sharp laugh. He snatched the medicine bottle from my hand. Popped the cap. He dumped it over my head.

White pills rained down on me. Bouncing off my hair. Scattering into the dirt.

"I actually felt a shred of pity for you," he sneered. "You are shameless. Absolutely disgusting. Using sickness to seduce Roman? Why don't you just die?"

Why don't you just die?

I looked up. The loathing in his eyes was a physical weight. It stabbed my chest. My brother. My protector. He hated me. It didn't require a detective. Kinsley had whispered poison in his ear.

I didn't defend myself. I didn't speak.

The bottle hit the ground. Empty.

Camden got back in the car. The door slammed. A gunshot in the silence. The engine roared. He left me in the dust.

I knelt on the asphalt. I picked up the pills. One by one. Wiping the grit off them. Putting them back in the bottle.

The road was empty. Abandoned. Again.

I walked to the trash can. Retrieved my coat. I dusted it off. Put it on. I huddled on the curb. Waiting for the dizziness to pass. Waiting for my heart to stop hammering against my ribs.

I opened Google Maps. Nine miles.

I started walking.

Chapter 5

As Kinsley's wedding approached, the city buzzed with preparations. Agnes was busy, too. She was trying to sell me.

The buyer was Ryker. The youngest, wildest son of the Su family.

He made it clear the moment we met. He despised me.

I put the offer on the table. Cold. Transactional. "A marriage of convenience. We'll be partners. You party, you sleep around, you do whatever you want. I won't interfere."

Ryker swirled his drink. "What's in it for me?"

"Your parents stop nagging you to settle down."

Three years ago, Ryker's family was considered a small, insignificant household. They wouldn't have made it past the security gate of my old life. Now? The tables had turned. I was the one begging for a ring.

If I married him, I could stay in the city. More importantly, Roman would relax. He would see that I had moved on. That I wasn't a threat to his happiness with Kinsley.

Ryker gave me a lopsided, arrogant grin. "Fine. But you're on call. When I snap my fingers, you show up."

"Deal."

Ryker had a target. Starla. A rising actress who was playing hard to get. He needed a prop. Someone to make her jealous. I said yes.

The restaurant was dim. Candlelight flickered on gold cutlery. Ryker reached across the table. He cupped my face. He leaned in. It was part of the script.

But as his breath hit my skin, I flinched. I pulled back. A reflex I couldn't control.

Ryker's eyes went cold. He dropped his hands. "You think I actually want to kiss you? Don't flatter yourself. You're repulsive."

I knew. It was just a scene.

I turned my head. Roman was standing in the doorway.

I didn't know how long he had been watching. Shadows obscured his eyes, but the tension in his jaw was visible from across the room. Every alarm bell in my head started ringing. Red flag. Danger.

I stood up. Tried to slip away.

Roman moved faster. He intercepted me. His hand clamped around my wrist. The grip was crushing. My bones ground together.

"Found a new host to latch onto already?"

His voice was low. Dangerous. In the past, Roman wouldn't deign to touch me.

"Mr. Taylor. Please. Have some self-respect."

Logic dictated he should be happy. I was removing myself from the equation. But he looked murderous. He didn't let go. He dragged me out of the restaurant.

He shoved me into the backseat of his car. Hard.

I scrambled into the corner, pressing myself against the leather, trying to disappear.

Roman sat next to me. He pulled out a silver lighter. Click. Flame. Click. Darkness. The rhythmic sound filled the suffocating silence.

Finally, he stopped. The flame danced, illuminating the sharp angles of his face.

"Felicity."

He didn't look at me. He watched the fire.

"Three years ago. You chased me. You swore you loved me. Was it all a lie?"

Chapter 6

Fear jackhammered against my ribs. My heart slammed into the cage of my chest.

Three years ago, he gave me a warning. "If I hear the word 'love' from your mouth again, I will make you pay."

I had paid. In blood. In years.

"Fake," I whispered. My voice trembled. "It was all fake."

The memory hit me. A visceral punch to the gut. That night. The blizzard. The only gift Roman ever gave me. A cheap, silver chain. Something he probably got as a thoughtless handout.

I was working the late shift. Washing dishes in the back of a greasy diner. The clasp broke. It slid off my neck. Down the drain. Into the sewer.

I ran outside. I fell to my knees in the snow. I pried the grate open. I plunged my hands into the freezing, black sludge. It smelled of rot and decay.

I clawed through the filth. My fingers turned red, then blue, then white. The wind sliced through my coat, freezing the tears on my face. My chest ached. Not metaphorically. It was a physical agony. A crushing weight that made it impossible to breathe.

I didn't find it. I curled up in the snow and screamed.

That was the first time I truly broke. It was the moment I realized that giving up on someone hurts just as much as holding on. To him, it was trash. To me, it was a lifeline. I had guarded it for two years.

And when it vanished into the dark water, it was a sign. Enough.

I inhaled. The air in the car was too expensive, too clean. "My shameless phase is over," I said softly. "I'm done."

I expected relief. I expected him to smile. But Roman's expression sank. His eyes were dark pits. No joy. No victory.

"Are we finished, Mr. Taylor?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He signaled the driver. The lock clicked.

I opened the door. My legs felt like jelly. I stumbled out onto the pavement.

I realized something terrifying.

I didn't love him anymore. I just feared him.

The next day, Ryker summoned me. He sent a location pin. A film set. Winter was biting hard. The wind cut like a knife.

Ryker was there to see Starla. She was filming a water scene. The script called for her to jump into a lake. In sub-zero temperatures. She came up shivering, her lips blue, her face pale. Ryker didn't even look at me. He ran to her with a towel and hot coffee. Fawning over her.

Then I saw Kinsley. She called it "visiting the set," a euphemism for staking her claim.

She walked over to me. Her face shifted. The sweet angel mask dropped. The demon peeked out.

"Look at that," she whispered. "He has someone else. Three years ago, three years later you're still the same, Felicity. Pathetic. Shameless."

I was used to this. The double face. The gaslighting. I didn't understand why she wouldn't just let me go. She had the crown. She had the kingdom. Why kick the peasant?

I kept my voice flat. "If you don't like seeing me, I can disappear. I won't appear in front of you."

Kinsley smiled. It was bright. Sharp.

We stood next to a glass door. The reflection told the truth. She was vibrant. Glowing. Expensive. I was yellow. Gaunt. A walking corpse.

"Don't be silly," she crooned. "I want you to stay. I want you to watch Roman marry me. I want you to taste what it feels like to have the love of your life ripped away."

Once, that thought would have destroyed me. Now? I just felt tired. A deep, bone-weary exhaustion.

"Okay."

I turned around. Roman was there. How long had he been standing there? How much did he hear?

He didn't speak.

Ryker was shouting. Starla was having a meltdown. She was shaking violently, refusing to go back into the water.

"I need a double!" Ryker yelled. "Get a stunt double!"

No one moved. The water was freezing. It was dangerous. No sane person would jump in there for a paycheck. It was a power play. Ryker was forcing Starla to beg.

Kinsley nudged me. Hard. "Hey, Sis. Didn't you used to say you wanted to be an actress?"

My blood ran cold. I looked at Roman. Instinctively. He narrowed his eyes. His face was a mask of ice.

"Go ahead," Roman said. His voice was devoid of emotion. "Ryker is looking for you."

He was allowing it. He was condoning it.

I took a step back. I walked over to Ryker. He looked at me. A cruel smirk played on his lips.

"You said you'd do anything I asked," Ryker said. He pointed at the black, freezing water. "Be her double."

Chapter 7

I turned my head to look at Roman. He heard Ryker. Every word. But he didn't move. He didn't speak. He sat there, sprawled on his chair like a king watching a gladiator match. Indifferent.

Begging him for mercy? That would be suicide. It would only make the humiliation worse. People like them they could crush people like me without blinking. Like ants.

"Fine."

I surrendered.

Starla was a perfectionist. An "industry benchmark." That meant one take wouldn't be enough. She would demand perfection.

I walked to the edge. I stepped off.

Impact.

The water wasn't just cold. It was aggressive. Violent. It drilled into my pores, piercing through skin and muscle, driving straight into my marrow.

My lungsalready stiff, already scarred tissueseized instantly. Panic. I tried to inhale. Nothing happened.

My legs gave out. The heavy water swallowed me whole, rushing into my nose, my mouth. My consciousness began to fracture. The world turned into noise. Chaos.

Inside my head, the volume cranked up.

"You dirty bitch! Three years with that rich family and you didn't save a single cent?"

"You waste of space! You useless liability!"

Lester's voice. Screaming from the past. I remembered that moment. It was the first time I realized how ugly language could be. How words could bruise bone.

I couldn't control my breathing. My lungs felt like broken, rotted bellows. They wheezed. They rattled. But they wouldn't fill. My body felt weightless. Drifting.

Pain exploded in my chest. A sharp, tearing sensation that radiated through every organ. My vision went black.

Then, a grip. Iron-hard. Rough.

Roman hauled me out of the water. I collapsed against him. The air hit my face, but I couldn't process it.

A surge of heat rushed up my throat. Metallic. Thick. I gagged. HACK.

A massive spray of bright, scarlet blood erupted from my mouth. It splattered everywhere.

I thought of Dr. West's warning. Focus on staying happy. It was tragic. It was pathetic. It was so absurd I wanted to laugh.

My hand was trembling violently. I lifted it. It was coated in my own blood. I held it up to his face. Forcing him to look at the red. I smiled. Weak. Broken.

"Roman I'm dying. Are you happy?"

Chapter 8