The Dark Secret of the CEO by Sofia de Orellana

Chapter 1

“…Isn’t it taking too long, Sir?”

“She’ll wake up. Soon. …Isn’t my daughter so pretty already?”

“Yes, yes…”

I hear someone chuckle, a deep voice. After a couple more seconds of struggle, I finally manage to open my eyes. Oh, crap, it’s bright…

“Good morning, my Sleeping Beauty.”

A silhouette appears above me, blocking the light. I blink a couple of times, trying to distinguish those facial features. A smile like a shark amongst a greyish, perfectly combed beard, and two piercing, ice-cold blue eyes. …Who’s that? I can’t help but keep blinking repeatedly, my eyes dry as hell. Where the heck am I? What’s going on? I want to move. My body’s so damn heavy… What’s that weird smell, too? I try to move my head, look around. This place is so… white. All monochrome, white and metal. Sanitized and cold like a hospital. No, wait. It looks like it must be cold, but I don’t feel cold at all. Nor hot. Just… neutral. So weird…

I do feel something hard and sturdy underneath me. I’m not on a bed. A table?

“Can you hear us?”

I turn my head, finding another man on my right, seated and staring from behind his glasses. I do hear them. I want to answer, but… my throat hurts! It hurts so much, like it’s completely dry, and raspy. I want to talk, but I don’t even know how to breathe! I can’t feel any air moving through my lungs, my throat… I try to inhale, but it feels empty, like my organs are moving for strictly nothing.

“Answer us,” the man insists. “Can you hear us?”

He’s wearing a white coat and scrubs? I just nod by reflex.

“I… I-I do.”

The air I finally feel seems so strange in my lungs, my throat. My own voice sounds different. Deeper, raspier.

“Good.”

“Give me your hand, Dear,” gently says the bearded one next to me. “Let’s have you sit up first.”

I feel his cold hand grabbing mine, and very gently, he helps me sit up. My body feels so heavy, I thought I’d get a bit dizzy or something, but there is none of that. Just some strange… nausea. I try to ignore it and sit up, to finally realize where exactly I am…

“Is this a… mortuary?” I mutter, a bit confused.

I’ve never been into one, but there’s no mistaking it. I’ve seen enough crime shows for that. Those rows of chrome cupboard doors with numbers on them, and this aseptic, cold hospital atmosphere, without any patients… I look down, and notice I’m sitting on a silver table, like one they put the bodies on. Except that I’m very much awake and alive, and not naked nor covered by just a sheet like I’d imagine a corpse to be. Instead, I’m actually wearing a long-sleeved black dress I’ve never seen before…

“What the…”

“Seems like you’re a quick one,” says the guy in the doctor outfit. “Yes, this is a morgue. Your death was pronounced at thirty-four minutes past one this morning, and it’s now… ten in the evening.”

“My… death? But I’m not…”

“Oh, no, you’re dead. According to the humans standard, you were dead the minute your heart stopped beating, although you were formally pronounced dead a few minutes later. But you did die at around one o’clock this morning.”

makes no sense,”

the situation. I don’t understand anything that’s going on. Not only do I feel… extremely weird, but those two are making it even more uncomfortable. There’s a man in a white coat

Asks the

realize this guy’s got a British accent… Or is it Scottish? His blue eyes look as

“My t-throat hurts like hell, and… I’m feeling somewhat sick. Nauseous. But… who the heck are

says the British man.

guy behind him waves with a bored

As if I know him, like a long-lost parent. Have I met him before? Even if my mind wasn’t so fuzzy, I don’t think I could remember. No, I wouldn’t have forgotten someone with such a strong… aura. I’m attracted to his eyes every time I try to look elsewhere. He dominates the room with that strange… heavy, dark aura around him. It’s invisible, but it’s impossible to ignore, it’s suffocating.

says Ethan, his eyes still on the paper. “It’s

throat hurts,” I

thirst, but it feels as dry as sandpaper. Ethan moves, and hands me a cup. It looks like… wine? It smells good, and… appealing. Without thinking, I drink, and it’s… strangely filling. It tastes vaguely familiar, a bit sweet and salty at the same time. I frown. The smell is… a bit off. Or perhaps because it’s new. I drink, I keep drinking. No, I just can’t stop myself. I push all my thoughts aside and drink more and more, unable to stop. The liquid’s cold, but it’s filling and warming me up nicely. It’s almost calming, but it’s never enough. I want that feeling in my throat. It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever had… I feel like ten more of

“…Good girl.”

that I’ve drunk a bit, I feel a bit better, but also… even more confused. He’s visibly the man in charge, so I turn to him for answers. The nausea’s getting worse, but I

I mutter.

“Do you remember?”

I shiver. I remember. Vaguely, but I have a feeling. The pain, the loneliness. The rain against the windows, the neon lights from the billboards, and the darkness of my room… The bathtub overflowing. The lukewarm water, and that pain… The one in my chest, deeper and worse than the one dripping down my wrists. …It’s like a nightmare that sticks to

“I… I…”

to find the same bandage, the same blood stains on the other side. Ice runs down my spine, making me

“Hera.”

cheek, forcing me to look into his blue eyes again. He smiles, with a

will be alright. This is

What did

smiles even more, and I start to feel… sleepy. Why

my child,” he whispers. “You’ll feel better

My whole self dives into sleep before I can

slept… I’m not in a proper bed either, but leaning in a comfy leather armchair, a blanket covering me. There’s a strange, heavy buzzing in the background. I grimace. I’m still feeling crappy, but it’s a bit better… The ache in my throat is gone. I glance at the window next to me. It’s night again… But this isn’t a window. It’s a plane

“Good evening, darling.”

my head. In the seat facing me, Richard Heartgraves, again. He’s looking at

I mutter.

the Atlantic ocean,” he says, glancing outside. “We will land in London in a couple more

I frown. “Why the

“Is there a problem?”

feels like I’m half in a dream, or in a weird daze. I look down, to notice I’m still wearing the same black dress as before. It looks simple, but I can tell when a piece of fabric is expensive. That kind of lace and embroidered top isn’t one you’ll buy at any

I finally

so many questions, and about as

did you save me?” I

he smiles.

but he’s obviously avoiding my real meaning… My eyes fall on

that I drank

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