---- Chapter 15 Barron Carroll POV: | found Cydney in the west wing. Not in the burned-out basement, but in the master suite. My men had brought her back, and she had immediately tried to resume her role as lady of the manor. She was sitting up in bed, painting her nails, a serene smile on her face. She thought she had won. She looked up as | entered, her smile widening. "Barron, darling. You' re back. | was so worried. That awful man..." "Shut up, Cydney," | said, my voice dangerously quiet. Her smile faltered. "What's wrong?" | tossed the tablet onto the bed. Her confession played on the screen. The color drained from her face. She stared at the video, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. "It's not what it looks like," she stammered, her eyes wide with panic. "He doctored it! It' s a trick! It' s all part of Emerson' s plan!" "Emerson is dead," | said, my voice flat. "This is all you." | walked over to the bed and looked down at her, at the woman for whom | had sacrificed everything. My honor. My wife. My children. My soul. And she had betrayed me. Utterly ---- and completely. "You accused her of trying to kill our son," | said, my voice a low whisper. "You made me believe she was a monster. You made me... punish her." The images of Emerson, strapped to the gurney, her body convulsing, flashed in my mind. The sound of her screams echoed in my ears. "You made me destroy the only thing | have ever truly loved." "| did it for us!" she cried, scrambling back against the headboard. "I love you, Barron! | always have! She was in the way!" "Love?" | laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "You don't know the meaning of the word. You know only greed and ambition." | grabbed her by the arm, my fingers digging into her flesh, and dragged her out of the bed. She screamed, clawing at my hand. "Where are you taking me?" she shrieked. "To your new room," | said, pulling her down the hallway, down the stairs, towards the blackened, fire-scarred basement. "The one you prepared for Emerson." | threw her into the darkness. She landed in a heap on the cold, soot-covered floor. "You can't do this!" she sobbed, crawling towards the door. "I'm the mother of your child!" | looked down at her, my face a mask of stone. "My child," | ---- said slowly, "will be raised by nannies and tutors. He will have the best of everything. And he will be taught that his mother was a monster who died a tragic, and very deserved, death." | slammed the heavy door shut and bolted it. Her screams were muffled, pathetic. For days, | left her there. | had food and water sent down, just enough to keep her alive. | listened to her beg, plead, and curse. And | felt nothing. One evening, | went down to the basement. | brought a chair and a bottle of scotch. | sat in the darkness, just outside her locked door, and | listened to her sob. "Why?" she wailed from the other side. "After everything | did for you, everything | sacrificed... why are you doing this to me?" "Because of what you made me do to her," | answered, my voice a dead monotone. "Because you turned her love into hate. And now her hate is all | have left of her." "She was weak!" Cydney screamed, her voice cracking. "She didn' t deserve you! "She was everything," | whispered to the empty darkness. "And you are nothing." | stood up and walked to the door. | had a surprise for her. Something | had arranged with a certain... exotic pet dealer. | opened a small slot at the bottom of the door and emptied ---- a canvas bag into the room. A dozen of them. Non-venomous, but large. And very, very real. Her scream was different this time. It was a sound of pure, primal terror. The kind of sound Emerson had made when | had locked her in the dark. "An eye for an eye, Cydney," | said, my voice cold. "You wanted her to face her fears. Now it' s your turn." | walked back up the stairs, leaving her to her own private hell. | went to my study and pulled out a photo of Emerson. It was from our first anniversary. She was smiling, her eyes full of a love and trust | had so casually, so cruelly, betrayed. | sat in my chair, the photo in my hand, the bottle of scotch on my desk, and | waited. | didn't know what for. For Elara Vance to make her next move? For the ghost of my wife to come and claim her final revenge? It didn' t matter. My life was already over. | was just a body, waiting for my soul to catch up to the fact that it was already in hell. In "CEO, That Intern is Actually Your Wife" by CrushReel, delve into a captivating romance where a billionaire CEO becomes contractually linked to an unexpected partner. When faced with the urgent need to fund her grandmother's critical surgery, our protagonist finds herself in a unique situation—entering a one-year contract marriage with a stranger. 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