Rebound: The CEO'S Revenge System

The room was black. It was not just dark; it was a heavy, thick blackness that felt like a blanket over his face.

Ryan lay on the bed. The bed was soft, but to him, it felt like a stone slab. He tried to move his finger. Nothing happened. He tried to move his toes. Nothing happened. It was as if his body did not belong to him anymore. He was trapped inside a broken shell.

For six months, this was his life.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The machine next to his bed made the same sound, over and over again. It was the only thing that told him he was still alive. Sometimes, he wished the machine would stop. If the beeping stopped, the pain would stop too.

Ryan felt a sharp ache in his back. He had been lying in the same spot for hours. He wanted to turn over. He wanted to scream. But his mouth would not open. His throat was dry, like sand. He was the CEO of Capital Wonderful, a massive company. He used to have power. He used to tell people what to do. Now, he could not even scratch his own nose.

He was rich, but his money could not buy him movement. He was married to the most beautiful woman, Clara, but she was not here.

Wait.

He heard a sound.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound came from the hallway. It was the sound of high heels hitting the hard floor. Ryan knew that sound. It was Clara.

His heart beat a little faster. Clara was his wife. She was the only light in this dark world. She took care of him. She fed him. She wiped his face. Even though he could not speak, he loved her. He wanted to see her smile.

But today, the sounds were different.

Usually, Clara walked softly. She walked like she was afraid to wake him up. Today, her steps were loud. They were heavy. They sounded angry.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Ryan’s eyes widened in the dark. There was another sound. Someone else was walking behind her. These were not high heels. These were heavy boots. A man.

Who was bringing a man into his bedroom in the middle of the night? Was it the doctor? No, the doctor always knocked. The doctor spoke softly.

The door handle turned. The door creaked open.

A slice of yellow light from the hallway cut across the dark room. It hurt Ryan’s eyes, but he could not blink fast enough.

Clara walked in. She did not look at Ryan. She walked straight to the window and pulled the curtains shut, blocking out the moonlight. She switched on a small lamp in the corner. The light was dim, casting long, scary shadows on the walls.

Then, the man walked in.

He was big. He wore a dirty leather jacket and old jeans. He looked like trouble. He looked like the kind of man Ryan would never let into his house.

Clara turned to the man. She did not whisper. She spoke in a normal, loud voice.

"Close the door, Mark. It stinks of medicine in here."

Ryan felt a cold chill. Clara’s voice was cold. It did not have the sweetness he knew. It was sharp, like a knife.

The man, Mark, kicked the door shut with his boot. Bang.

"He looks worse than last week," Mark said. He walked over to the bed and looked down at Ryan.

Ryan looked up. He tried to focus his eyes. The man had a scar on his chin. He had cold, dark eyes. He smelled of cigarettes and cheap beer.

"Is he awake?" Mark asked. He did not care. He spoke about Ryan like Ryan was a broken chair, not a person.

Clara laughed. It was a cruel sound. "Who cares? He is a vegetable, Mark. He can’t talk. He can’t move. He is just a piece of meat with a bank account."

Ryan felt something shatter inside his chest. What?

Clara walked to the bedside. She looked down at Ryan. Her face was beautiful, but her eyes were full of hate. She reached out and patted Ryan’s cheek. It was not a gentle pat. It was hard. It stung.

"Look at him," Clara said, sneering. "The great Ryan King. The man who owns the city. Look at you now."

Ryan wanted to yell. Clara, “why are you saying this? I love you.” But only a small gurgle came from his throat.

"Shut him up," Mark grumbled.