The Scar He Gave, The Queen I Became Novel Cover

The Scar He Gave, The Queen I Became

7.7 / 10.0
I was dragged from the bottom of a pool, soaking wet and freezing, only to be accused by my husband of trying to drown his mistress. He believed her lies completely. He saw her feigned cough and trembling shoulders but was blind to my chattering teeth and the genuine terror in my eyes from my severe water PTSD. "Your jealousy is a sickness," he spat, ignoring my pleas. He threatened me with divorce and financial ruin for my family, all while his mistress, Isabelle, smirked at me from behind his back. He let me collapse onto the cold marble floor, turning his back on three years of marriage to comfort the woman who had set me up. The irony was suffocating. I was the one who had saved his life from a river years ago, an act that left me with a crippling phobia and a permanent scar he never noticed. He thought Isabelle was the traumatized victim. He thought my love was a transaction. That night, the love died. I walked away from his millions and the pathetic wife he thought I was. From the hidden lining of my clutch, I pulled out an encrypted phone he'd never seen and gave a single command: "Execute." My life as Mrs. Mueller was over. My real life was just beginning.

The Scar He Gave, The Queen I Became Chapter 1

Ice-cold water pooled around Cadence's bare feet on the Italian marble floor.Her ruined evening gown clung to her skin, and every breath she took tasted of chlorine and bile.Her teeth chattered, a violent rhythm of the panic clawing at her throat.

Franklin Mueller strode through the entryway, his bespoke suit bone-dry and immaculate.His gaze bypassed His wife Cadence entirely, the gray-blue of his eyes hard and unforgiving as they locked onto the security detail behind her.

Isabelle leaned heavily against a bodyguard as she crossed the threshold.She let out a weak, perfectly timed cough that shattered the dead silence of the penthouse.

Franklin shoved the bodyguard aside, his hands gripping Isabelle's shoulders with a fierce possessiveness Cadence had never known in three years of marriage.

Cadence stared at his hand resting on Isabelle's shoulder.Her heart gave a violent, painful spasm against her ribs.The desperate explanation burning on her tongue turned to ash.

Isabelle buried her face against Franklin's broad chest.

"Don't be mad at her, Franklin," Isabelle whispered, her voice trembling with manufactured tears. "I don't blame Cadence. I just... I slipped."

The lie was a lit match dropped into gasoline.

Franklin's head snapped up.His eyes locked onto Cadence, radiating a fury so oppressive it seemed to steal the air from the room.

"Your jealousy is a sickness," Franklin spat, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Pushing a woman who cannot swim into the deep end at a Hampton gala. You are out of your mind."

A flash of memory: the freezing Hudson, a rusted blade in her back, the suffocating dark as she dragged his unconscious body to the surface.

Cadence's hands shook, the severe water PTSD sending violent tremors down her spine."You don't know, actually I'm also afraid of water."

"Stop," Franklin barked, cutting off her movement."You already have a diving qualification certificate, how could you be afraid of water? Do not play the victim with me, Cadence. It makes me physically sick."

Hilary, Franklin's executive assistant, stepped forward with a thick, heated cashmere blanket.

Franklin snatched it and wrapped it tightly around Isabelle, completely ignoring his wife, whose lips had turned a bruised shade of purple.

Cadence watched the absurd, cruel theater playing out in front of her.A hollow, broken sound scraped its way up her throat.

It was a laugh. Cold, weak, and dripping with absolute mockery.The sound bounced off the high ceilings of the entryway.

The muscle in Franklin's jaw feathered.He took the laugh as a remorseless challenge, closing the distance between them in three long strides.

He towered over her, his shadow swallowing her shivering frame.

"If you ever lay a hand on Isabelle again," he said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, "I will initiate divorce proceedings before you can blink."

He leaned in closer. "And the prenup," he whispered, the words a final, twisting blade. "The second I sign those papers, your new-money Chase family loses all protection from my company."

Cadence's pupils dilated.Her chest tightened so hard she thought her ribs might snap.

Three years of silent endurance, of loving him until she bled. And he thought it was all a transaction.

Behind Franklin's back, Isabelle tilted her head.She shot Cadence a vicious, triumphant smile, the mask of the fragile victim slipping away.

Cadence's stomach violently cramped.The phantom sensation of drowning merged with the crushing weight of despair, sending the room spinning.

Her knees buckled.

Franklin's hand twitched. His index finger extended a fraction of an inch, a pure reflex to catch her.But he stopped himself, pulling his hand back.He let Cadence stumble.

Cadence slammed her palm against the freezing wall to keep from hitting the floor.Through her wet, tangled bangs, she stared at the man she had traded her life for.The desperate, foolish love in her eyes began to fracture, piece by piece, turning into dead glass.

"Have the medical team meet us in the guest suite," Franklin ordered his assistant.He wrapped his arm around Isabelle's waist, turning his back on Cadence without a second glance.

The heavy oak door of the guest suite clicked shut down the hall.The sound severed the last string holding Cadence up.She collapsed onto the puddle of water on the marble floor.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, a jagged fork of Manhattan lightning ripped through the sky, illuminating her ghost-pale face and the thick, ugly scar slicing across her left shoulder blade.

She wrapped her arms around her knees, her fingernails digging so deeply into her forearms that crescent moons of blood bloomed on her skin.

Slowly, Cadence pushed herself off the floor.She pushed her soaked hair back from her face.The fragile, broken look in her eyes evaporated, replaced by an absolute, terrifying stillness.

She unclasped her ruined designer clutch.From the hidden lining, she pulled out a matte-black encrypted phone Franklin had never seen.

The cold light of the screen reflected in her empty eyes.

Her fingertips danced across the glass, activating an encrypted, localized communication protocol marked with a single letter: M.

A line of green code popped onto the black screen: [Citadel_Protocol_Active].

She lifted the device to her lips.

"Execute," Cadence commanded, her voice holding zero emotion as she initiated the network's first override sequence.

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