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

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 giving me a lecture about my supposed death right now, and another staring at me with… a

you feel?” Asks the creepy smiling

accent… Or is it Scottish? His

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

Richard,” says the British man.

guy behind him waves with a bored

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

his eyes still on the paper. “It’s just the

throat hurts,”

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 those won’t be enough… Soon enough though, I reach the end of the

“…Good girl.”

before I can protest. Now 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

on?” I

“Do you remember?”

the blood-stained bandages around my wrists… 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

“I… I…”

No… I fucking did. I grab my other sleeve, to find the

“Hera.”

look into his blue eyes again. He smiles, with a

down, child,” he mutters. “You will be alright. This is all

did you

to feel… sleepy. Why am I sleepy now? So suddenly. My head

whispers. “You’ll feel better when

but to obey. My whole self dives into sleep before

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 window… and we’re above the clouds,

“Good evening, darling.”

at me with that smile,

mutter. “Where… are

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

frown. “Why the

“Is there a problem?”

I swallow down my protest. I guess I have a few bigger issues than going back to that City for now… I try to remember what happened. It still 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 store. I glance around. This is definitely a private jet, too… And while

I finally ask. “Why… Why

about as many wild guesses floating in my

you save

didn’t,” he smiles. “I only

of saying it, but he’s obviously

that I drank earlier,

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