Dear Readers,
On behalf of everyone reading ’He Hurt Me, Now He Wants Me Back’, thank you for reading. I know you have many choices. Boy oh boy, you do have many choices. It’s crazy to think how many choices you have.
In fact, some people think there are too many choices. Browsing through the endless books on this site can be like feeling hungry in a supermarket. Despite the beautifully displayed cornucopia, you often leave frustrated and unsatisfied. So once again, thank you for choosing to read ‘He Hurt Me, Now He Wants Me Back’.
Damien Shaw I know what you’re wondering. How did we get here? Please enjoy this expositional explanation.A few days ago, I got the offer for IMU’s expansion, granted that I move to Africa for a year or two. I was entirely against the idea because of Imogene and Lily. I couldn’t turn down the offer either.I took the offer but on the condition that I could appoint anyone to oversee the project in Africa. My cousin, Soren, chose to go to Africa in my place because his fiancée just broke off their engagement. How convenient.But I had to go to Africa for two days to set the whole thing in motion. I put my assistant in charge of the meetings with Keith and Imogene. I also told Breonna not to let Imogene know that I would be coming back.I just wanted to know if she would miss me. Survive without me or at least reach out if I didn’t say goodbye. But it’s like I set a trap for myself because while I was away, all I could think about was Imogene and Lily.I left Africa last night and t
Imogene ScottI’m barely able to keep my thoughts together as I drive back home. My grip around the steering wheel tightens and I try to catch my breath. The enormity of what just happened slowly filters into my brain.I’m a joke. To everyone. No matter how hard I’ve worked over the years, I’m a still a joke. To Rita, to Diane, to Damien. They all toyed with me, made me feel like a fool.As I pull up in the parking lot, my hand slowly slides off the wheel. I have never felt like this in a long time. Worthless, alone and broken. I try to move from my seat, but my legs feel unsteady. My tears have dried on my cheeks, and my throat feels sore. The realization of everything that happened.. it leaves a residual numbness in my body. Every inch of me broken, patched back up with Band-Aids—Band- Aids over open wounds.Temporary.Futile.Useless.I fight back the lump blocking my throat. I hold the numbness inside me at bay. The hopelessness presses against my shoulders, threatening to push
Damien Shaw It’s eating me up that I fucked it up with Imogene all over again. What was thinking? Now she probably hates me more than anything. More reasons why I have to make things up to her.For the next few days, I gather everything I can on Diane Johnson. Breonna already told me the little she knew about the situation—how Diane didn’t turn Imogene’s work in as Imogene’s but hers. There were different ways to make Diane confess but I wanted to do it the way Imogene would approve of. Kidnapping and torturing Diane until she confessed wouldn’t do me any good, nor my relationship with Imogene.So, my plan was simple. Lure Diane and make her confess on a live stream so the whole world can see who she truely is. But that’s not going to be easy, in fact it seems a little far fetched, but I already have my plan mapped. Which is why right now, I’m sitting at Sairise Restaurant and meeting Diane Johnson in a few minutes. She thinks I want to scout her, have her work on an ad for IMU.
Imogene Scott I haven’t heard from Rita in five days. I don’t expect to hear from her but it’s a shame our relationship had to end like that. Of course, I’m never going back to Kennaway, or taking the chairwoman position because I can’t be around people who don’t actually trust me.As for Diane, I’m almost done gathering evidence that she stole my work. I’m having my engineer retrieve the work materials from my junk files since I placed them all on that USB I gave to Diane.While waiting on that, Keith and I have been planning a demo event for our virtual reality gallery. It’s just a little workshop we have to do before the convention starts. We’re planning on doing little test runs on the gadgets, where attendees can wear VR headsets and step into a virtual gallery of artworks. It’s happening next week. So, we’ve already invited a few people for the test run but I do plan on inviting Elinor so she can see the work we do. I mean, the work Keith and I do, because Damien only j
Imogene Scott I press my thumb to my temples as I try to wrap my head around the whole thing. Damien and Diane? Could any if it be real? Well, it only made sense that he would go for the better woman. But so soon? Only a few weeks ago, he was telling me how much he wanted Lily and I, but now he’s seeing someone else. And it had to be Diane Johnson of all women?This is a cosmic joke. I try to ignore the slight ache in my chest. I take deep breaths and rise to my feet. So what if Damien and Diane are together? It’s not like we were ever going to get back together anyways. I hear the door bell ring and I walk out of my room, and across the living room to answer it. The hi-res security panel next to the door shows the person on the other side. My breath catches in my throat. Damien. Why’s he here?“Imogene can you please let me in? I can explain.” comes his voice from the other side.I blink quickly, trying to clear the fog in my mind. Explain what? He’s the last person I want t
Imogene Scott Laguna Villa. It’s owned by Damien and I haven’t been there in years. Not since our fourth wedding anniversary when I forced Damien to celebrate it with me. Forced him. Thinking about it now, I had always forced him to do everything during our marriage. Forced him to come home. Forced him to have dinner with me. Forced him to stay. From the start, Damien had been selfish. So self-absorbed that it was as if I had to beg for scraps of his attention. Gathering my thoughts, I realize that deep down, I’m not surprised that Damien and Diane might be at Laguna Villa together. I should’ve seen this coming. There’s no shock, no sense of betrayal, just an overwhelming numbness that wraps around my heart like a vice. Either way, I grab my car keys and place Lily on my waist before walking out of my apartment. I can’t leave Lily on her own and I sure as hell can’t call Breonna because it’s almost 8pm.When I get to the parking lot, I place Lily in her strapped chair in the ba
Imogene Scott As soon as we’re alone, I meet her gaze. She looks so confident, so sure of herself, and it only fuels the fire inside me. I refuse to let her win.“What do you want, Imogene?” she asks, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “You’re interrupting our lovely dinner.”I suppress the urge to roll my eyes and instead smile. “Oh, I’m not here to ruin your evening. I’m just here to see you.”Her eyes narrow slightly. “Me? Well, aren’t I lucky.”I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “I have evidence now, Diane.”She laughs, actually laughs, as if what I said was a joke. “Oh, Imogene, is that what this is about? The campaign?”“You know it is,” I say sharply, but still keep my tone calm. “You took my design, passed it off as your own. You know it was mine.”Diane tilts her head, studying me with that same smug expression. “And what makes you think anyone’s going to believe that?”“Because we both know the truth, don’t we?”She sighs dramatically. “Loo
Damien ShawI had no idea things were going to go with with Diane. After Imogene refused to listen to what I had to say last night so I figured I had to get things over with Diane. That’s why I invited her right to dinner tonight to get the truth out of her.But Imogene showed up. It all kind of went well, at least until Diane spiraled and almost killed me. My arm stings due to the cut as I stand my Imogene’s car, waiting for her.Imogene soon returns with a first aid kit, her face set in determined lines. She doesn’t waste any time; she’s focused, her movements precise as she sets up the supplies on her car. The cool night air feels sharper now, and the gentle rustle of leaves is the only sound that punctuates the tension between us.As she begins to clean the wound, I watch her carefully. Her fingers are steady as she applies antiseptic, the scent of alcohol mixing with the crisp, night air. Despite the pain, there’s something oddly soothing about her presence. It’s strange, cons
Imogene Scott I pull back from Damien’s embrace. He exhales heavily, brushing his fingers over my cheek before saying, "I need to get back to work. I’ll see you at home tonight."I frown. "You don’t think you should go home first? Shower, change?"He smirks, rubbing his jaw. "It’s already midday, I’ll do everything later tonight."I shake my head, wrapping my arms around him again despite the sweat and stress clinging to his skin. "I want to hug you all day even though you smell so bad.""No, I don’t," he scoffs, tightening his hold on me. "You’re just being mean."I smile against his chest, inhaling deeply before stepping back. "Where are you headed now?" he asks, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear."Lily’s school."His expression shifts. "Something wrong?"I open my mouth to say no—because I don’t want to worry him, because I know how he gets—but then I remember: no more secrets. That’s what we promised each other.I press my lips together and nod. "One of Lily’s clas
Damien Shaw I take a deep breath, my fingers tightening around the pen in my hand as I stare at Imogene. The way she’s looking at me—hurt, disappointed—makes something sharp twist in my chest, but I refuse to let it show. I remind myself why I stayed at the office last night, why I drowned myself in work instead of coming home. Because she needs to understand. Because she’s reckless. Because she keeps putting herself in situations that put our family in danger, and she doesn’t seem to grasp that her actions have consequences.But then there’s the guilt too, gnawing at the back of my mind. I didn’t just stay here to punish her—I stayed because I didn’t trust myself not to say something I’d regret. And now, looking at her standing in front of me, holding that ultrasound picture, my resolve wavers.God, I want to take it from her. I want to reach for it, to see them, to feel something other than this exhaustion and frustration. But if I give in too quickly, she’ll think she can get
Imogene Scott The morning air is crisp as I step out of the house, wrapping my coat a little tighter around myself. A light breeze brushes against my skin as I feel the chill settle in my lungs.I climb into my car, my hands gripping the cold steering wheel as I exhale. My mind is full of thoughts, but the one at the forefront is Damien. He didn’t come home last night. I’d stayed up, waiting, hoping the sound of his footsteps would echo through the hallway. But all I got was silence.When I finally called his office, an employee answered and confirmed what I’d already suspected. He had spent the night there, drowning himself in work just to avoid me. That’s how furious he was. My chest tightens as I pull out of the driveway, gripping the steering wheel a little harder.I plan on stopping by his office later, but first, my doctor’s appointment. Then Lily’s school.The hospital is a fifteen-minute drive, but it feels longer. My mind keeps circling back to Damien’s face last night,
Imogene’s pov I watch as Damien storms out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him with a force that rattles the walls. My hands tremble at my sides, my heart hammering against my ribs. I knew he would be upset—I expected anger, frustration—but not this kind of fury. Not the kind that makes his voice shake with disappointment, that makes his eyes burn with something dangerously close to resentment.I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My mind races. How did he find out? Who told him? And why, after everything, does it still hurt that he’s so mad at me? He’s the only person left standing beside me in this storm, and now I feel like I’m losing him too.Subconsciously, I place my hands over my belly. The twins stir inside me, and I close my eyes. I’m due in two months. Two months until my life changes again. Two months until I’m holding them in my arms. But will I even be here for them? Or will I be behind bars, labeled “
Damien Shaw I step into my office, and the shift in the atmosphere is immediate. The air feels charged, thick with something. Eyes flicker toward me, then dart away, as if my presence is suddenly a weight they can’t bear to acknowledge. It’s been like this for days—whispers in the corridors, hushed conversations that stop the moment I step too close.They see me as a man protecting a murderer.I clench my jaw, ignoring the way my employees’ gazes follow me as I make my way to my office. The door clicks shut behind me, and I exhale slowly, my fingers pressing against my temples. The scandal is bleeding into IMU, seeping into the cracks, poisoning the foundation I spent years building. It isn’t just the company’s reputation at stake—investors are losing faith, deals are slipping through the cracks.And worst of all, there’s no solid proof that Imogene is innocent.I sit down, leaning back in my chair, the leather creaking beneath my weight. I need a plan. Something to turn this arou
Imogene Scott I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening as I pull into the parking lot of the police station. My heart is hammering against my ribcage, so loud it nearly drowns out the hum of the engine. A part of me screams to turn back, to go home, to pretend I never got that text. But another part—the logical, rational part—knows that avoiding this will only make me look guilty.I take a deep breath, steadying myself before stepping out of the car. I pull my coat tighter around my body, trying to suppress the shiver crawling up my spine. The station’s glass doors slide open, and I walk in, my heels clicking against the tiled floor. The fluorescent lights overhead are too bright, making my skin prickle.A female officer greets me. “Mrs. Shaw, this way.”My stomach clenches. My voice feels lodged in my throat as I follow her down the hall. She leads me into an interrogation room, and I hesitate before stepping inside. The walls are bare, painted a dull gray, and the sing
Imogene scott The next morning I wake up early to make breakfast for Damien as a thank you for the ice cream yesterday. It’s not like I was able to sleep anyway. I slip into my flip flops and walk out of the room. Damien is still sleeping because it’s still 6:30pm. The scent of scrambled eggs hits me the moment I step off the last stair. I pause. That’s strange. It’s Saturday. Sheila shouldn’t be here this early. I pull my robe tighter around my body, shivering even though the house is warm. I walk into the kitchen to see Sheila standing at the stove, humming softly as she stirs a pan of eggs. There’s already a plate of bacon resting on the counter, and the coffee machine is also gurgling.“Sheila?” I say.She looks over her shoulder, startled. “Oh! Morning, Imogene.” I frown. “What are you doing here so early?” Sheila blinks at me, then lets out a small chuckle like I just told a joke she doesn’t quite get. “You asked me to come early today.” My stomach dips. “I did?”
Damien Shaw I curse under my breath for what feels like the hundredth time today, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white. My patience is running thin, and I swear I’m two seconds away from throwing my damn phone out the window. It had started early this morning—my private number, the one only family and close friends should have access to, had been blown up by reporters. I have no idea how they got it, but every few minutes, another call comes in, another message, another desperate attempt to dig their claws deeper into the mess surrounding Imogene. I lean back against the headrest and take a deep breath, but it does nothing to ease the tension sitting in my chest. Outside, the estate is quiet now, but hours ago, it had been a different story. Protesters had crowded outside the gates, chanting about justice for Georgia Aiko, waving their signs like they had already convicted Imogene in their heads. I had my men clear them out, but I know it’s not over
Imogene Scott5 days later… “Why were you in the parking lot with Miss Georgia Aiko?” The detective’s voice is sharp, slicing through the thick air of the interrogation room. I don’t respond right away. Not because I don’t want to—but because I’ve already answered this question a dozen times. “I told you,” I say. “I was there to meet someone.” His gaze is unreadable, his fingers tapping impatiently against the file in front of him. The walls are bare except for a clock ticking agonizingly slow. I feel like I’ve been in here for hours. “We checked,” the detective says, leaning forward. “There was no meeting scheduled with any reporter named Simon. We called the number you provided. No answer. So why don’t you start telling us the truth?” “I am telling you the truth,” I say, frustration bubbling under my skin. “Georgia and I were supposed to meet a reporter. He never showed up. Someone hit me on the head, and the next thing I knew, she was—” My voice catches. I take a de