The Bizarre Bond: The CEO's Regret

After divorcing my cheating husband, I thought I had found my savior in his powerful business partner, Cole. For three years, he pampered me like a queen, building a perfect, golden cage of devotion. But on the day I happily discovered I was pregnant, I overheard him talking to my ex-husband's mistress. "Elinor is just a convenient tool. If she gets pregnant, I'll fake a paternity test and annul the marriage so she leaves with nothing." My entire marriage was a meticulously crafted lie to secure his position and protect the woman he truly cared about. Before I could quietly escape, Cole orchestrated a brutal attack. I was dragged into a dark alley, beaten until my ribs fractured, and my unborn child was violently ripped away from me. As I lay bleeding out in the freezing rain, my heart shattered into dust. I didn't understand how the man who kissed me every morning could coldly order his thugs to beat me to death just to appease his real lover. They left me there to rot, thinking they had finally erased the naive fool who got in their way. Three years later, the world still believes Elinor Marsh died in a tragic car accident. But when Cole and his elite circle attend a high-profile Interpol reception, they don't expect the new Chief Liaison Officer to step onto the stage. I am Helena Fu now, and I have returned to burn their empire to the ground.

Haylie waited nervously at the Wall Street charity gala for her boyfriend Bryan, but a spiked drink hit her hard, leaving her stumbling into a VIP lounge. There, Chester Steele, the ruthless CEO of Steele Industrial, found her—drugged and vulnerable. What started as a frantic claiming in the shadows ended with him whispering she was his. But moments later, a security alert shattered everything: data breach traced to Haylie's terminal. Chester's fury exploded. He saw her brush past a Logan Group rival on footage and dumped her in the rain, firing her as a corporate spy. Bryan answered her desperate call with ice: "It's over." Reporters swarmed her door, branding her a traitor. Arrested at the office by FBI agents, she watched smug coworker Erin wave goodbye. Thrown in a cell, chained and grilled with fake evidence—offshore accounts in her name—Haylie learned the worst: charges now included her sick father, Ernest, framed for laundering the leak money. Plead guilty or he dies in prison. Innocent and raging, she couldn't fathom who planted it all—the gala bump, the logs, the forgeries. Why her? Who hated her enough to destroy her life? Chester burst in, posting unlimited bail but forcing her signature on a slave contract: live in his penthouse, serve him 24/7. As she collapsed in his arms, trapped in his gilded cage, Haylie vowed silently—she'd uncover the real traitor and make them pay.

I returned to New York after four years in Paris, aiming for nothing more than my grandmother’s trust fund and the seventeen percent stake that was rightfully mine. But the moment I stepped out of JFK, I was treated like a piece of luggage, intercepted by Jered Knox—the man I was forced to marry to secure a corporate merger I never asked for. He didn't even look at me, instead flaunting his mistress right in my face, forcing me into the back of his neon yellow Porsche while cameras swarmed to capture the "happy couple." Then, the real nightmare began: he tossed a prenuptial agreement over his shoulder like trash, offering me a measly sum to sign away my rights and disappear, while his family and my own stepmother whispered about how plain and ungrateful I was. I watched as they treated my life, my inheritance, and my future as nothing more than a prop for their power games, never once considering that I might actually fight back. They think I’m the same girl they sent away years ago, a pawn to be traded and forgotten, but they have no idea what I’ve become or who I’m really working for. I didn't come back to be a victim in their grotesque comedy; I walked into the Imperium Group offices this morning, ready to take the design director position that will turn their entire world upside down.

I spent forty hours hand-beading a gown for a woman who was currently sleeping with my husband. My fingers were raw, my vision blurred, and the needle had just driven deep into my index finger, leaving a drop of blood on the silk. Braxton walked into our penthouse, rain dripping from his suit, and didn't even look at me. But the scent hit me instantly—Bulgarian rose and white musk. It was the custom perfume Griselda, my own sister, commissioned in Paris. I had spent three years as a ghost in my own marriage, sewing costumes for the woman who had haunted my vows since day one. Braxton didn't bother to hide it anymore; there was a smudge of her coral lipstick on his collar. He didn't offer an explanation, only a command to finish the gown for the Met Gala so I wouldn't embarrass them. My mother called moments later, her voice sharp with the usual dismissal. She didn't care that I was bleeding or that my husband was cheating with my sister. She only cared that I was "falling behind" on Griselda's gown. I sat in the silence of that cold, marble cage, staring at the needle in my hand. For years, I had swallowed every insult and stitched every lie, believing I was the capable one who had to make them happy. But as the clock ticked, a door inside me finally clicked shut. I wasn't just tired; I was finished. I set the needle down, picked up my phone, and dialed my sister’s number to tell her she’d have to find someone else to bleed for her.

I was a top-tier CTO in Boston, but I threw it all away the moment my grandmother’s heart began to fail. The only doctor who could save her was in Manhattan, protected by a wall of money and power I didn't have. Then the real blow landed: the man who destroyed my family was now a billionaire at Zenith BioTech. Conrad King hadn't just stolen my grandfather’s company; he had orchestrated the hostile takeover that led to my grandfather's stroke and left us with nothing but debt and a broken name. We moved to New York, but the city was a nightmare. The elite specialist's office laughed at my pleas, and I was nearly trampled by Sean Sterling, a cold-blooded mogul who looked at me like I was a glitch in his perfect world. My grandmother gripped my hand in her hospital bed, weeping as she begged me to stay away from the man who had ruined us. "Promise me you won't go to him," she rasped through her oxygen mask. "He'll chew you up." I promised her, but it was the biggest lie of my life. I watched the news as Conrad King smiled at charity galas, living the life that belonged to my family. The unfairness of it burned in my chest like acid. How could a thief be celebrated as a hero while we were left to die in the shadows? I'm done being the victim. I’ve sanitized my resume and applied for a position at Zenith BioTech. I’m going to infiltrate his empire, take back what he stole, and burn his smile off his face.

To force my husband to sign the divorce papers, I had to press a blade against my own neck until I bled. He was hesitating because he didn't want a scandal, even though he had just watched his mistress push me down the stairs, killing our unborn child. While I lay bleeding on the floor, Calvin didn't call an ambulance for me; he comforted her because she was "scared." I walked away with a jagged scar and a broken soul, leaving them to their stolen happiness. Five years later, at a party, the game "Never Have I Ever" brought everything crashing back. Calvin looked at me with haunted eyes, ignoring his now-wife Brea, and whispered, "I made a mistake. I want you back." Brea went ballistic, screaming that I was the home-wrecker, and tried to attack me again in a jealous rage. But this time, I wasn't the victim. I turned to my handsome neighbor, Derek, and closed the door on Calvin's pleading face. The next morning, a headline flashed on my phone: "Tech Mogul Calvin Bishop Stabbed to Death by Wife in Police Station." I touched the scar on my neck and finally smiled. Karma didn't just knock; she kicked the door down.