The CEO's Regret: You made me your lie, I become your Loss-Chapter 64: At a discount

The silence in the hospital corridor was finally peaceful. Madam Creed walked back toward the room, a light plastic bag of Sebastian’s favorite fruits swinging from her wrist. She was smiling a real, genuine smile that hadn’t touched her face in months.

"He looks so much better, doesn’t he, Demian?" she whispered, her voice light with relief. "He finally sounded like my son again. Rational. Calm."

Demian nodded, pushing open the heavy wooden door. "He just needed to hit rock bottom to see the light, Auntie. He’s going to be fine now."

The words died in his throat. The plastic bag slipped from Madam Creed’s fingers, apples rolling across the linoleum floor with hollow, rhythmic thuds.

The bed was empty.

The white sheets were ripped back, tangled, and cold. On the side table, the heart monitor was silent, not because it had been turned off, but because the sensors had been torn away. They lay on the floor like dead snakes, their sticky adhesive gathering dust.

"Seb?" Madam Creed’s voice was a thin, high-pitched thread. She ran to the bathroom door and shoved it open. "Sebastian? This isn’t funny!"

Demian didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on the window. It was cracked open just an inch, the heavy velvet curtain fluttering in the breeze. On the pillow, where his friend’s head had rested just an hour ago, lay a crumpled piece of medical tape.

"He’s gone," Demian whispered, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. "He didn’t listen to a word I said."

"Search the halls!" Madam Creed screamed, her voice cracking as she grabbed Demian’s arm, her fingernails digging into his skin. "He can’t walk! He’s too weak! He’s just... he’s confused, he’s wandering!"

"He didn’t wander off, Auntie," Demian said, his voice hollow with dread. "He was waiting for us to leave. He’s gone back to the fire."

--

The room was too quiet. The air felt thin, like it was being sucked out of her lungs. Amara’s eyes snapped open, a silent scream dying in her throat. Her heart thrashed against her ribs, a wild bird trapped in a cage.

In her mind, she could still see the cold, white tiles of that island with Seb. She could still feel the phantom pressure of the drugs and the terrifying thought of Seb wanting her memories, her life, her soul, being wiped away like chalk on a board.

"Amara? Amara, look at me. You’re safe."

The voice was warm, a solid anchor in the middle of her storm. Amara blinked, her vision clearing to see Julian leaning over her. His face was etched with worry, his hand hovering near hers as if he were afraid she might shatter if he touched her.

Beside him, Madam Pedro sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes red from a night of watching her daughter sleep. She reached out and smoothed Amara’s damp hair away from her forehead.

"It was just a dream, my darling," Madam Pedro whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Only a nightmare. You’re home. No one is hurting you here."

Amara sat up slowly, her hands trembling. "It felt so real, Mother. The island... Seb. He was taking everything. I was so scared I’d wake up and not know who you were."

Julian took her hand then, his grip firm and grounding. "I’m right here. I’m not letting anyone near you again. Not after what happened."

Madam Pedro looked at the two of them, the broken girl and the man who refused to leave her side. She took a deep breath and made a decision. The house felt tainted now, filled with the shadows of Amira’s betrayal and Sebastian’s ghost.

"Amara, listen to me," Madam Pedro said softly. "I will take care of the company. Everything there is under control. You and Julian... you need to leave. Just for a while. Go somewhere quiet, somewhere where the world can’t find you. You need to relax, to let these nightmares fade into the past."

Julian looked at Amara, a question in his eyes. "A fresh start? Just for a few weeks?"

Amara looked from her mother to Julian. For the first time since she woke up, the crushing weight in her chest lightened. "Yes," she whispered. "I just want to be somewhere where I don’t have to be afraid."

But as she spoke, a cold shiver ran down her spine. She didn’t know that miles away, on a private jet crossing the ocean, her sister was wearing her face, carrying her name, and leading Seb into a trap.

The apartment was small, and the walls were thin. Every sound from the outside world seemed to mock Elara’s empty pockets.

Little Seren sat at the rickety wooden table, staring at a bowl of plain rice. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her small shoulders shaking. "Mummy?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Should we call Daddy? He... he is my daddy, right?"

The question felt like a serrated blade across Elara’s heart. She had nothing left, no pride, no safety net, only the crushing weight of Seren’s tears.

"Yes, baby," Elara lied, her voice thick with a forced steadiness. "Just eat your food. I’m going to fix everything. I just need a little more time. I promise."

She turned away so Seren wouldn’t see the sob building in her throat. She cursed the day she met the Creeds, cursed the fate that left her with a child to feed and a world that had turned its back on her.

A sharp, heavy knock at the door made them both jump. Elara opened it to find King leaning against the frame. He looked expensive, his watch probably cost more than her entire life.

"What do you want?" Elara snapped, shielding the view of her messy living room. "Did Seb send you? Did he send you to kick us out?"

King let out a dry, mocking chuckle. "Seb? No. Seb doesn’t want anything to do with you. He’s halfway across the world." He stepped inside without being asked, his eyes roaming over Elara’s tired face and messy hair. "I just wanted to check on you. I’ve always had my eyes on you, Elara. Even when you were with him."

He stepped closer, his voice dropping into a low, oily flirtation. "You’re struggling. I can see it. Since you’re no longer with Seb, I thought... maybe we could be a thing."

Elara’s eyes widened. "You mean you want to sleep with me? Your best friend’s ex-wife?" 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

King smirked, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. She flinched, but she didn’t pull away. "I’m just trying to help. Look at this place. You want money, and I want to have some fun. It’s a fair trade, isn’t it?"

Elara looked back at Seren, who was watching them with wide, frightened eyes. She thought about the bills, the empty fridge, and the phone Seren needed for school that she couldn’t afford. The desperation felt like it was drowning her.

"Fine," Elara whispered, her voice sounding dead to her own ears.

She walked over to the television and turned it on, the loud cartoons filling the room to drown out any other sound. "Stay here, Seren. Don’t come out until I say so."

King’s smirk widened into a victory. He followed Elara into the tiny, dark bedroom, and as the door clicked shut, Elara felt the last piece of her soul shatter.

The air in the cramped bedroom was thick and stifling, smelling of cheap detergent and King’s heavy, expensive cologne. The sounds of the cartoons blaring in the next room were a jagged contrast to the rhythmic creak of the mattress.

For Elara, the experience was hollow, a cold, mechanical necessity. She stared at the peeling wallpaper, counting the cracks as she traded her dignity for a chance to survive. There was no heat, no passion; only the heavy weight of a man who looked at her like a prize he had finally bought at a discount.

When it was over, King didn’t linger. He pulled away with a grunt of satisfaction, the bed groaning as he stood up to adjust his clothes. He didn’t look at her with affection; he looked at her with the smug triumph of a man who had just closed a cheap deal.

"Now I see what Seb has been enjoying, not bad," he said, his voice casual and cool as he zipped his trousers.

Elara pulled the thin sheets to her chest, her body feeling leaden. She watched him check his reflection in the cracked vanity mirror, smoothing his hair back as if he hadn’t just altered the course of her life.

"I hear Amara and Julian are heading to the Ice Villa," King remarked, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Some high-end getaway to find peace, or whatever rich people do when they’re bored."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick roll of cash. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed a wad of bills onto the rumpled bed. The paper fluttered down, landing near her feet.

"This should be enough to get you a decent place. Stop living like a ghost," he said with a smirk. He leaned down, his eyes scanning her face one last time. "If you’re good to me, really good, maybe I’ll take you on a vacation. Somewhere far away from this dump."

"See you soon, Elara."