CEO's Regret After I Divorced

Only a Substitute

Serena's POV

The freezing water slammed into my face, jolting me awake like I'd been electrocuted.

My breath stolen by the icy shock, my throat instinctively tightened as flickering lights and shadows swam before my eyes.

I curled up on the cold, wet cement floor, my wrists burning from the rough plastic zip ties cutting into my skin, the chill penetrating straight through to my spine. I heard water dripping, the faint echo of metal doors clanging, and the low laughter of three men.

"Well, look who's finally awake," a scarred man leaned down, his gaze slicing over me like a skinning knife. "Look at that face, that body... premium merchandise right here."

"Damn right," another man with brown hair grinned, exhaling cigarette smoke in my face. "Put her in an underground auction, she'd fetch a good price. Ten grand minimum."

The third man lounged lazily against the wall, licking his teeth. "Or we could sample the goods ourselves before selling. Not like anyone would care what happens to her."

My stomach churned violently as my fingers dug into the freezing floor.

Fear coiled up my spine like a poisonous snake, but I forced myself to lift my head, keeping my voice as steady as possible.

"Wait!" My teeth chattered, but I fought to speak clearly.

"I'm... Serena Blackwood. Ryan Blackwood's wife. If it's money you want, I can give you more than any auction would pay. Just let me call my husband."

The three exchanged glances before erupting into louder laughter.

"Blackwood?" The scarred man narrowed his eyes. "The North American Blackwood family? You're his wife? How come I've never heard about you?"

He snickered, "Ha! Probably some mistress giving herself a fancy title. If she really was his wife, he'd be here already. Would we be having this little chat?"

Their mockery pierced my heart like nails.

Truth is, I wasn't sure myself. Three years ago, when Ryan pulled me from the se a, I had no memory. No family, no background—Ryan became my whole world's only light.

When he asked if I'd be his wife, I agreed without hesitation. But at night when we made love, he'd hold me while whispering a stranger's name—his deceased girlfriend, Sophie Hart.

That's when I realized I was just Sophie's shadow, a substitute wife.

To the outside world, Ryan Blackwood appeared the perfect, devoted husband. He looked after his ex's sister Ivy, while supposedly never letting his wife feel neglected.

He promised me that whatever he gave to Ivy, I'd receive tenfold. I would always be Mrs. Blackwood.

When he worried Ivy Hart might catch cold, he'd buy her a soft cashmere coat for $100, then turn around and give me a designer coat worth $1,000.

When he gifted Ivy a $5,000 diamond necklace for her birthday, I received a sapphire set worth $500,000.

I sealed all those gifts in the storage room, never opening them.

Each luxury item was like evidence, reminding me: he loved her, I just got the compensation.

But now, with my life in these men's hands, I had to gamble that he cared about me, even just a little.

"Number." The scarred man barked.

Trembling, I recited his private number, watching him dial.

Ring... ring...

Each tone cut like a knife.

Then, the call connected.

"Hello?" A sickeningly sweet voice came through, carrying a familiar laugh.

Ivy Hart.

My heart sank.

"Ivy," I struggled to keep my voice steady, "Put Ryan on the phone. I... I have an emergency—"

"Oh, Serena." She laughed softly, each note stabbing my heart like needles.

"You really know how to pick your timing. Ryan's at the charity gala right now. You know how important today is, don't you? Don't bother him."

The kidnappers beside me burst into laughter.

"Haha! Did you hear that? Her husband doesn't want to talk to her!"

"I told you she was delusional!"

I clenched my jaw, my palms bleeding from my nails digging in.

"Ivy, listen to me." I lowered my voice, crushing my dignity bit by bit.

"Go to the storage room in the Blackwood mansion, code 0503. You know what those things are worth. I'll trade them for one minute with Ryan."

A brief silence on the other end, followed by her slight intake of breath—she knew I wasn't lying.

"Fine," she said languidly. "But make it quick."

Moments later, I heard his familiar yet cold voice.

"What is it?"

Hearing him, I nearly broke down crying. "Ryan, I—please—something's happened, I—"

"Serena." He cut me off, his tone filled with impatience and contempt.

"Do you have to make a scene right now? I didn't bring you to the gala, and I'll make it up to you. A villa. I've already arranged it. Can't you just behave yourself?"

A villa.

I froze, feeling like someone had hollowed out my chest with bare hands. Had he bought Ivy a house?

Tears welled in my eyes as a broken laugh escaped my throat.

"Ryan, you make me sick." I enunciated each blood-soaked word. "You and that bitch... you'll regret this someday!"

"You—" he seemed about to say something, but I was already screaming with all my might, my voice hoarse and breaking: "I hope you both rot in hell!"

The phone slammed down.

The kidnappers tossed the phone aside, laughing.

"So she really is Blackwood's wife." The scarred man grabbed my hair, yanking my face upward.

"Too bad you're not a valued wife. Since you can't give us the money we want, we'll just collect some interest ourselves."

"Let go of me!" I fought desperately, but their hands were rough and strong.

Fear and humiliation exploded inside me.

Like a cornered animal, I suddenly lunged forward, sinking my teeth into one man's wrist. The taste of blood immediately flooded my mouth.

"AHHH!! You crazy bitch!" he screamed, releasing me.

I stumbled toward the door, bare feet slapping against the cold cement, my heart threatening to burst through my chest.

The night air hit my face as I half-ran, half-crawled toward the lake.

Behind me came furious roars and hurried footsteps.

No time. No way back.

I plunged into the pitch-black water.

The cold pierced my skin like a thousand needles, suffocation and terror nearly tearing my chest apart, but I kept swimming forward into the deeper darkness. Each stroke felt like racing against death itself.

I won't die here. I won't be Sophie Hart's shadow anymore.

As consciousness began to fade and darkness closed in from all sides, my final thought was crystal clear and resolute—

I'm escaping this marriage for good. Even if it costs me my life.