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

beard next to me has been smiling all this time, staring at me like a proud father looking at his child, which seems incredibly strange given 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

you feel?” Asks

His blue eyes look as if he’s scanning me. I slowly

hell, and… I’m feeling somewhat sick. Nauseous. But… who the heck are you

says the British man.

the guy behind him waves with a bored

I feel such a strange… sensation towards him. 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,

going to feel sick for at least the next forty-eight hours,” says Ethan, his eyes still on the

hurts,”

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

“…Good girl.”

me 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 worse, but

going on?” I

“Do you remember?”

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 chest,

“I… I…”

sleeve, to find the same bandage, the same blood stains on

“Hera.”

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

“You will be alright.

did you call

to feel… sleepy. Why am I sleepy

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

choice but to obey. My whole self

long I’ve 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

“Good evening, darling.”

me, Richard Heartgraves, again. He’s looking at me with that smile, slowly swirling a glass of wine between his index

mutter. “Where…

outside. “We will land in London in a couple

I frown.

“Is there a problem?”

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

I finally

many questions, and about as

save

smiles. “I only

guess that’s one way of saying it, but he’s obviously avoiding my real meaning… My eyes fall on

wine that I

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