Share

MARRIED TO THE CEO WHO RUINED ME: HIS BRIDE, HIS REVENGE
MARRIED TO THE CEO WHO RUINED ME: HIS BRIDE, HIS REVENGE
Author: Queenie

CHAPTER ONE: The First Scar

Author: Queenie
last update Last Updated: 2025-05-05 03:52:26

Sunlight spilled like molten gold across the tangled sheets, creeping up the length of the girl lying motionless in bed.

Marceline groaned softly, burying her face beneath the pillow in a futile attempt to escape the dawn. The sunlight cut through the curtains like a blade, warm and merciless, illuminating the ghost of a night that still lingered on her skin.

She wanted to drift back into the haze of sleep, back into the arms that had held her so tightly hours before—arms that were no longer there.

Then her phone rang.

Sharp. Shrill. Jarring.

She jolted upright, her heart skipping once—then twice—as her gaze swept the room.

Empty.

The spot beside her in the bed was cold. Sheets undisturbed. Like he had never been there at all.

But he had. She knew he had.

Memories surged back, uninvited—his breath against her neck, the way his lips had traced promises down her spine, the things he whispered between gasps and kisses. She blushed despite herself, one hand reaching out to the vacant pillow beside her. It was cold. Too cold.

"Cross?" she called out, voice soft, unsure.

Silence answered her.

The ache in her muscles made it hard to stand, but she pushed herself upright with a groan. Every step across the room was laced with soreness, her body remembering what her heart refused to question.

She reached the vanity, where her phone buzzed with another incoming call—an unfamiliar number. She ignored it, scrolling instead to his name.

Calling…

No answer.

Again.

Still nothing.

Her fingers trembled as she lowered the phone. She bit into her lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. The silence screamed louder than any ringtone.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess of raven waves, her lips swollen, eyes still carrying the weight of everything she’d surrendered the night before. There had been truth in his touch, hadn’t there? Something more than just a game?

Why then… why was she alone?

She turned away from the mirror, phone slipping from her hand onto the dresser with a soft clack, and shuffled toward the bathroom. Her limbs moved slowly, weighed down by more than soreness. Something inside her felt out of place—off-kilter.

Like the world had shifted and she’d missed the moment it cracked.

She tried to tell herself it was nothing. Maybe he’d just left early. Maybe he’d come back. Maybe—

But deep in her chest, wrapped in the fragile silence of that empty room, something began to splinter.

… … ..

She stood beneath the steaming spray of the shower, eyes closed, letting the water wash over her like a baptism she hadn’t asked for. It kissed every bruise and sore place he’d left behind—traces of pleasure now turned to thorns.

Her heart pulsed like a wound.

She tried not to think. Tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut. But when she shut her eyes, all she could see was the look in his—intense, possessive, soft—a lie, her mind whispered.

No, she told herself. He wouldn’t vanish like that. Not after everything.

But the ache in her chest begged to differ.

SCHOOL HALLWAY

“Celine!”

The name cracked through the noise of morning chatter like thunder. Marceline turned just in time to see Cora rushing toward her, panic etched into every step.

“What’s wrong?” Marceline asked, brows furrowed, heart beginning to pick up speed.

“Didn’t you get my texts? Didn’t you check the school blog?” Cora’s voice trembled, eyes flicking nervously over the students gathering like moths to flame.

“My phone was dead,” Marceline replied slowly. “What are you talking about?”

Cora's eyes widened. “You… You need to leave. Now. Don’t ask me why—just go. I’ll explain later.”

“Cora, what the hell are you saying?” Marceline’s voice dropped. “You’re scaring me.”

Cora opened her mouth to answer.

But it was already too late.

“Oh look—if it isn’t the whore of the hour,” a voice laced with venom cut through the hallway.

Samantha.

She strode toward them, flanked by a gathering crowd, the swagger in her step promising blood. Phones were already out. Faces lit up in anticipation. Marceline could feel the tension shift—the moment before a storm breaks.

“What’s going on?” she whispered.

“How does it feel, Celine?” Samantha sneered. “To finally be the center of attention? Oh, right—you’ve always craved it.”

Marceline blinked. “Samantha, I don’t have time for your games today.”

Samantha laughed—a brittle, high-pitched thing. “Oh, I love your boldness. Shame it won’t save you. Not this time.”

The crowd closed in like sharks circling blood.

“You pretended so well,” Samantha hissed. “Perfect little saint. But turns out, you’re just a common slut.”

Laughter erupted. The word slut echoed down the hallway, bouncing off the walls like a slap.

Marceline froze.

“What… what are you talking about?”

More laughter. More whispers.

“God, she’s still pretending!” someone said. “Iconic.”

Another voice added, “Guess the good girl mask finally slipped.”

“Maybe she should switch majors,” a girl called. “P**n seems to suit her better.”

Cora stepped in front of Marceline like a shield. “Enough! You don’t even know if that’s her in the video!”

“What video?” Marceline asked, voice barely a whisper now, trembling.

Samantha’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, sweetie. Allow me.”

She held up her phone, and with a triumphant swipe, the video played.

Marceline leaned in—

And the world fell apart.

Her room. Her bed. Her voice.

Her face.

There was no mistaking it. Every moment is captured. Every sound is immortalized. Her body was bare, her pleasure raw, her trust exposed.

Cross’s face was turned away, blurred by shadows, but hers—hers was crystal clear.

Time stopped. The laughter faded into white noise. The floor seemed to vanish beneath her feet.

“No,” Marceline breathed, her throat raw. “No, this can’t be real.”

Cora touched her shoulder. “It has to be fake, Celine. There has to be a mistake.”

But deep down, beneath the horror, beneath the shame, a deeper pain began to rise.

She remembered his hands. His voice. The way he held her like she was more than just a girl in a bed.

He made her believe

—-----

"Looks like even the saint of the college isn’t who she claimed to be."

The words rang out like a verdict, loud and triumphant. Laughter followed—sharp, cruel, unrelenting. The hallway became a stage, and Marceline was the unwilling, broken star of the show.

She lifted her head.

And there he was.

Cross.

Leaning casually against the stone pillar like he hadn’t just destroyed her. Like he hadn’t filmed her at her most vulnerable and left her to be fed to the wolves.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Cross…” she whispered, voice trembling, a prayer slipping through a battlefield.

He stepped forward, slow and languid, every movement radiating arrogance. His golden eyes bore into hers—void of guilt, void of remorse.

Only venom.

“How could you?” Her voice cracked, not with anger, but with disbelief. With the raw ache of a heart splintering beyond repair.

“How could I?” he echoed, a cold smile curling on his lips as he circled her. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Her hands trembled, curling into fists at her sides.

“Why…?” she asked, the word torn from somewhere deep and bruised. “Why did you do this?”

“Why?” he scoffed, his tone mocking, razor-edged. “Because it was easy.”

“You told me you loved me,” she said, voice a ghost.

He laughed—a sound so cruel it sucked the air from her lungs.

“That was all a lie,” he spat, cutting through her like a blade. “Every word.”

Her chest tightened, ribs collapsing inward. The tears she’d fought so hard to bury surged forward, spilling down her cheeks.

“All the promises… everything we shared—” she tried again.

“Lies,” he snapped, dismissing her as if she were nothing. “You were a game. A distraction. A fool with her legs open.”

The crowd gasped, some recoiling, others eating it up like a feast of scandal.

“You meant nothing to me, Marceline. You disgust me.”

She staggered back a step as if the weight of his words had struck her physically. Her voice broke. “All this time, you were pretending? Every moment… all those nights—was I just a toy to you?”

“Yes,” he said, without hesitation.

“Tell me,” she whispered, desperation bleeding through, “tell me that not once, in all these months, your heart didn’t skip a single beat for me. That you never loved me.”

“I didn’t. And I never will,” he said. “Not now. Not ever.”

Her knees threatened to buckle. Still, she clung to the last threads of her soul.

“You must be insane to think I, Cross Deveja, would stoop so low for someone like you.”

His voice dropped, eyes gleaming with something vile.

“A bastard daughter of my father’s mistress. A stain. Just like your slutty mother. You’re nothing but a warm body. A whore I used and tossed away.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Marceline blinked through the tears, her vision blurring. Her chest heaved with broken sobs, every word a hammer to her ribs.

“I hate you,” she breathed, voice rising. “I hate you, Cross Deveja!”

“Good,” he said, turning away. “The feeling is mutual.”

And just like that—he left.

Walked away without a glance, without remorse. While she crumbled to the ground, her body folding in on itself as the weight of it all came crashing down.

The whispers returned. The laughter. The sting of betrayal echoed louder than the crowd.

She pressed a hand to her chest like she could hold the pieces of her heart together.

“I hate you,” she whispered again. “I hate you. I regret ever knowing you.”

Her voice cracked, her soul screaming through the silence.

And beneath it all—beneath the humiliation, beneath the grief—something else began to stir.

It wasn’t hope.

It wasn’t love.

It was wrath.

Continue to read this book for free
Scan code to download App
Comments (1)
goodnovel comment avatar
Verity Cart
this is so gripping! I felt every race emotion in this chapter.
VIEW ALL COMMENTS

Latest chapter

  • MARRIED TO THE CEO WHO RUINED ME: HIS BRIDE, HIS REVENGE   Chapter Chapter Six: A Hunt For My Wife

    Samantha stared at him, her mouth slightly open, eyes wide like she'd just watched him grow a second head. The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable, broken only by the hum of the air conditioning in Cross's office.Never had she thought Cross would do this kind of thing. Not Cross. Not the man who treated relationships like disposable coffee cups, using them up and tossing them aside without a second thought."Cross, what has gone over you?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them, her voice higher than usual.She took a step closer, her heels clicking against the marble floor. "Don't tell me you've fallen for her." The words came out sharp, bitter. Like she was spitting out something that tasted bad.Cross didn't even look up from his desk where he was shuffling through some papers. His movements were casual, almost lazy. "It's not your business, Samantha."His voice was flat, emotionless. The same tone he use

  • MARRIED TO THE CEO WHO RUINED ME: HIS BRIDE, HIS REVENGE   Chapter Fifty Five: Misunderstood

    Back at Cross's office, the afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished floor. Samantha had been pacing up and down, her heels clicking against the marble with each anxious step. Now she stopped, turning to face Cross who sat behind his mahogany desk, looking through some papers like nothing had happened. She couldn't take it anymore. The silence was killing her. "Cross," she said, moving closer to his desk. Her voice was tight, almost pleading. "Tell me the truth." He looked up from his papers, his dark eyes meeting hers. There was something unreadable in his expression. "Tell me this is just one of those jokes you usually make," she continued, her hands gripping the edge of his desk. "Tell me what the media is saying isn't true. Tell me they're just making up stories like they always do." Cross set down his pen and leaned back in his chair. He watched her with that calm, calculating look he always wore when he was thinking.

  • MARRIED TO THE CEO WHO RUINED ME: HIS BRIDE, HIS REVENGE   Chapter Fifty Four: Tension

    Samantha's eyes burned with fury as she stared at Marceline . Her manicured fingers curled into fists at her sides, knuckles white with the pressure of barely contained rage."How dare you threaten me," she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. Each word dripped with venom, her carefully maintained composure cracking to reveal the ugliness beneath. The silk blouse she wore rose and fell with her rapid breathing, betraying just how deeply Marceline's words had affected her.Marceline, in stark contrast, remained infuriatingly calm. "Oh don't say that, I'm not threatening you at all," Marceline muttered, her voice carrying that maddening tone of innocence that only served to fuel Samantha's anger further. "I'm only giving you an instance." She examined her nails with deliberate nonchalance. The air between them crackled with hostility. Samantha's chest heaved as she fought to maintain some semblance of control, but Marceline's dismissive attitude was like gasoline

  • MARRIED TO THE CEO WHO RUINED ME: HIS BRIDE, HIS REVENGE   Chapter Fifty Three: Be careful

    The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Samantha stood there, her perfectly manicured fingers gripping her designer handbag so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Her eyes, sharp as daggers, fixed on Marceline with the kind of hatred that burns slow and deep. She looked like a predator who had finally cornered her prey, ready to deliver the killing blow.Samantha's lips curled into a sneer, her face twisting with disgust as she looked Marceline up and down like she was examining something nasty she'd found on the bottom of her shoe. The expensive perfume she wore couldn't mask the bitterness that seemed to radiate from her very pores."You've become something else, I must confess," Samantha said, her voice dripping with venom. Each word came out slow and deliberate, like drops of poison falling from her tongue. "Marceline, you have no shame at all."She took a step closer, her heels clicking against the marble floor like a countdown to destruction. Her wh

  • MARRIED TO THE CEO WHO RUINED ME: HIS BRIDE, HIS REVENGE   Chapter Fifty Two: Confrontation

    The leather chair was cold against Marceline's back. She shifted around, trying to get comfortable. The office looked like every other corporate space - all gray and black, just like Cross's soul. She ran her fingers over the armrest. Expensive stuff. The walls had awards and certificates she couldn't read from where she sat. Pictures of Cross shaking hands with suits. A world she was married into but never belonged to.Quiet. The clock on the wall was too loud. Tick. Tick. Tick. She checked her phone. Cross still hasn't been back. Typical. He called her here like she worked for him instead of being his wife. Well, wife on paper. Their marriage was more like a business deal than anything with feelings.Her wedding ring caught light from the big windows. Heavy. Expensive. Like wearing handcuffs made of diamonds. She twisted it around her finger - something she did a lot since the wedding. The diamond was perfect, the setting fancy. Cross made sure everyone knew what it cost. Image was

  • MARRIED TO THE CEO WHO RUINED ME: HIS BRIDE, HIS REVENGE   Chapter Fifty One: New Trouble

    Marceline's fingers drummed against the polished mahogany desk as she processed Alvin's words. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across her office, highlighting the tension etched in her features. She lifted her chin defiantly, her dark eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and determination. "I'd love to see you try to get me," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper but laced with steel. The challenge hung in the air between them like a gauntlet thrown down. Alvin's jaw tightened as he straightened his tie with deliberate precision. His eyes never left her face as he took a step closer to her desk, his presence looming over the space between them. "Mark my words, Marceline," he said, his voice low and threatening. "I'll be back for you. Cross can never have you-not truly. What you two have is nothing more than a facade, and we both know it." He paused at the door, his hand resting on the brass han

More Chapters
Explore and read good novels for free
Free access to a vast number of good novels on GoodNovel app. Download the books you like and read anywhere & anytime.
Read books for free on the app
SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP
DMCA.com Protection Status