Imogene ScottMy hands fly to my mouth. Diane is even more striking in person than in the countless magazine spreads and interviews I’ve seen. Her presence commands the room, even though she’s just walking towards the reception desk. She’s dressed in a chic, tailored black suit, her dark hair slicked back into a low ponytail, and there’s an air of effortless elegance about her that immediately makes me feel both awed and incredibly self-conscious.I’ve admired her work for years. And now, here she is, just a few feet away from me. This is the woman I’m up against. This is the woman whose design could very well outshine mine.Diane spots me as she approaches, and I quickly snap myself out of my daze. She smiles—a small, polite smile—and I realize I’m still staring like a starstruck fan. Get it together, Imogene.“Good morning, Mrs Scott.” Diane says, her voice smooth and composed. “It’s so nice to finally the future chairwoman in person.”I swallow hard. Diane knows me? Oh my God,
Imogene Scott I wake up to the soft chime of my phone’s alarm, the early morning light filtering through the sheer curtains of my bedroom. For a moment, I lie still, trying to gather my thoughts together.It’s another day. Another day to try my best to keep the bad thoughts away. Another day for me to remind myself that everything happens for a reason. It’s been two days. Two days since he’s left.I roll on the bed for a few seconds before I finally get on my feet. I reach for my phone on the nightstand, my fingers brushing against the cool glass screen. As I sit up, I swipe through the notifications, mentally preparing myself for the usual flood of emails and messages. But one subject line catches my eye, making my heart skip a beat. “Thank you for your submission.”My pulse quickens as I open the email. It has to be about the ad campaign project I submitted. I never had any high hopes for it to begin with because Diane Johnson is the best of the best and there’s no way they would
Imogene Scott “She stole it,” I whisper, the words barely audible even to myself. My mind races, a mix of confusion and anger bubbling to the surface. How could she do this? How could she take what’s mine and pass it off as her own? I can’t wrap my head around the fact that she actually stole my work. My heart thumps and my pulse quickens. I glance at Keith, who’s watching the ad with a neutral expression. My hands clench into fists in my lap. I feel a wave of nausea rise in my throat, a sickening realization of the fact that this woman I used to look up to and trusted could actually stab me in the back. As the ad ends and the lights come back up, I can’t move, can’t speak. All I can do is sit there, reeling from the shock of what I’ve just seen. And what to do next. Keith turns to me, clearly expecting some reaction. “What did you think?” I force myself to swallow the lump in my throat. “That’s mine. She stole my work.” I rise to my feet and dint wait for Keith to respo
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 The first thing I notice when I wake up is the empty space beside me. The sheets are still warm, carrying the faint scent of Damien’s cologne, but he’s already gone. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes. The morning light filters through the curtains. The scent of something cooking drifts through the air—eggs, maybe omelets. I push the duvet off and slide my feet into my flip-flops. As I walk out of the bedroom and down the stairs, the soft sounds of laughter and clinking utensils become clearer. In the kitchen, Damien is standing by the stove, a spatula in one hand and an apron lazily tied around his waist. Lily is perched on a high chair, her small hands clapping together as she cheers him on. “Good morning, Mummy!” she says excitedly when she sees me. A tired smile pulls at my lips as I walk over. “Good morning, baby. How are you feeling?” I gently brush a strand of hair out of her face, studying her carefully. “I feel better now!” she announces proudly, her
Imogene ScottIt’s midnight, and I still can’t sleep. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling because my mind refuses to quiet down. The room is dark except for the faint glow of moonlight seeping through the curtains. The house is silent. I curl my arms around my stomach, my fingers lightly tracing the curve of my belly. Two months. That’s all the time I have before the twins arrive, and yet I don’t feel ready. I barely feel capable of handling Lily some days. How am I supposed to take care of two more babies? I exhale slowly, willing the thoughts away, but they keep creeping back in. Damien was right about one thing—I’ve been forgetful lately. Not just little things like where I left my phone or if I locked the front door, but important things. I should have cleaned up the broken glass earlier. I should have been more careful. What if it had been worse? What if Lily had gotten seriously hurt because of me? My throat tightens. I know I should see a doctor, but the very
Damien ShawI let out a slow breath, my fingers pressing against my temples as I watch Imogene walk out of the room. The door doesn’t slam, but the sound of it clicking shut is just as final. My jaw tightens. Of course, she walked away. That’s what she does when she doesn’t want to hear something, shuts down, closes herself off. I loosen my tie, feeling the frustration settle in my chest. I hadn’t meant to start an argument. But how could she act like this wasn’t serious? It’s not just about her anymore. She’s been forgetting things more and more lately, and now Lily’s gotten hurt because of it. Just a small cut, sure. But what if it had been worse? What if she had stepped on something deeper, something that couldn’t be patched up with a bandage and a sticker? I exhale through my nose, rubbing a hand down my face. Fighting with Imogene never gets me anywhere. She’s stubborn. Too stubborn. But damn it, I don’t want to wake up one day and realize something terrible has happened be
Imogene Scott I carefully press the small, pastel-colored sticker onto the bandage covering Lily’s tiny foot. A smiling cartoon bear grins back at me, as if that alone can erase my guilt. I kiss her forehead, inhaling the soft, baby-powder scent of her hair. "I'm sorry, baby," I whisper, brushing a stray curl away from her face. Lily shifts on the couch, pulling the plush blanket over her lap. "It's not Mummy’s fault," she says in her small, serious voice. "Lily wasn’t careful." My heart clenches. Even at four, she’s trying to take the blame for something that’s entirely mine. I should’ve cleaned up the glass right away. I should’ve been more careful. I lift her tiny hand to my lips and kiss it. "Do you want me to get you anything?" Lily’s eyes brighten. "Chocolates!" I shake my head, smiling despite myself. "You know you can’t have sweets past seven, baby. It’s almost eight." "Please, Mummy?" She pouts, her big brown eyes glaring at me.I sigh. "Fine," I relent,
Imogene ScottI jolt awake, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. For a moment, I don’t know where I am. The room is dimly lit, the heavy curtains keeping most of the daylight out. My heart is racing, my body damp with sweat. I sit up slowly, pressing a hand to my chest. The dream is already slipping away, but I know what it was about. Georgia. It’s always Georgia. My dreams are always about her. Mostly about that night she died.I exhale shakily and push a damp strand of hair from my face. My nightgown clings to my back, sticky with sweat. The dream lingers, making my skin prickle with unease. Why won’t these nightmares stop?I reach for the glass of water on my nightstand, desperate for something to soothe my dry throat, but my hand meets empty space. I blink, frowning. It’s always there. I always leave it there. And then I remember—I moved the jug before my nap. But where? I try to picture it, but my mind feels sluggish, foggy. Did I put it in the kitchen? On the dr
Damien Shaw I’m at my desk, working through a contract revision when Kia steps into my office. I don’t look up immediately, still focused on the document in front of me. “Sir, someone’s here to see you,” she says. I finally glance up, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The first thought that comes to mind is the damn principal. I hope he hasn’t shown up here to grovel in person. I already made it clear—either they fix their behavior toward Lily, or I pull every last cent I’ve donated to that school. I don’t need another pointless apology. But when the door opens wider, it’s not the principal. It’s Sheila. I frown, leaning back in my chair as I take her in. She looks… fine. Not sick. But Imogene told me Sheila was unwell and wouldn’t be coming in for a few days. So what the hell is she doing here? “Sheila,” I say, watching her carefully. “Mr. Shaw.” She nods in greeting. “What are you doing here?” My tone is sharp.She offers a small smile, shifting on her feet. “I was
Imogene ScottI take my time getting Lily ready for school the next morning. With Sheila still sick and not coming in, the task is entirely mine, and I don’t mind. I cherish these moments—though today, my mind feels sluggish. I’m bothered by Georgia’s bracelet I found yesterday and the strange sense of forgetfulness creeping into my life lately. Lily sits on the edge of my bed, swinging her little legs back and forth as I button up her white blouse. She tilts her head back to look up at me.“Mommy, what’s wrong?” she asks. I pause for a second, startled. “Nothing, baby.” I smooth down her collar, making sure it sits perfectly. “I just want to remind you that if anything happens at school, if you feel sick or if someone makes you uncomfortable, you have to tell me, okay?” Lily nods, her curls bouncing with the movement. “Yes, Mommy.” “That’s my good girl.” I kiss the top of her head and take her small hand in mine, as I lead her out of the house. The drive to school is fi
Imogene Scott Lily giggles as she picks at the last piece of her banana pancake. Her tiny fingers are sticky with syrup. I watch her as I rest my head against the back of the chair. But my mind is somewhere else. The bracelet. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, staring up at the ceiling as if the answer is hidden somewhere in the cracks. Did I put it there? Had I forgotten? That’s the only logical explanation. Lately, I’ve been forgetful—missing appointments, losing track of time, misplacing things. Maybe this is just another slip, another thing lost in the chaos of my mind. But it doesn’t feel right. I inhale deeply, my fingers curling into my lap. I need to see it again. “Lily, baby, I’ll be right back,” I say, pushing my chair back. She nods, too focused on her food to question me. I walk upstairs slowly, each step. When I reach my bedroom, I hesitate for a moment before stepping inside. The room is dim. I make my way to the dresser. The drawer creaks
Imogene Scott Lily swings her legs under the table, her tiny feet barely brushing the ground as she happily digs into her mint chocolate ice cream. A small smear of green is at the corner of her mouth. She hums quietly as she eats, completely lost in her own little world. I should be able to enjoy this moment. Watching her be this happy should bring me peace, but it doesn’t. My stomach twists as I stare at her even though my own ice cream is melting in the cup. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let things get this far. I shouldn’t have let my past mistakes bleed into Lily’s life. She’s just a child, my child, and she deserves to grow up without the weight of my sins pressing down on her. She looks up suddenly, “Mommy, are you okay?” I force a smile, even though my face feels stiff. “Of course, baby.” Lily nods, satisfied with my answer, and goes back to her ice cream. “Very good, Mommy,” she says in her soft, sweet voice before taking another spoonful. I w