In my past life, the historic Saint Jude’s Chapel caught fire during a charity gala. I physically stopped my husband, Julian, from rushing into the inferno. Julian walked away without a scratch. His "distant cousin," Mia, who was trapped inside, perished in the flames. After that, Julian treated me exactly as he always had—painting my portrait, discussing literature, playing the loving husband. Until the night I went into labor. He locked me in the master bedroom and lit a match. Through the door, he whispered, "You should taste what it's like to be swallowed by the flames." I was burned alive. Only after I died did I learn the truth. Mia wasn't some poor distant cousin of the family. She was Julian’s mistress, the love of his life that he’d been hiding in plain sight. I opened my eyes and found myself back at that moment. Staring at the roaring fire in front of the chapel, I looked at Julian, tears streaming down my face. And I let go of his hand. "Julian... Mia... Mia is still inside!" 1 "Help! Fire! Somebody call 911!" I woke up to the frantic screaming of my assistant, Harper. I sat up, cold sweat drenching my evening gown. The phantom heat of the fire still clung to my skin. I could feel the searing pain in my abdomen, the sensation of my water breaking, the smell of smoke and burning flesh. I remembered pounding on the door, my voice raspy and broken. "Julian, please... let me out... the baby is coming..." The fire had roared, getting hotter, hungrier. Julian had stood on the other side of the glass French doors, looking like a Greek statue, cold and unmoving. I watched him pour a canister of gasoline onto the threshold, ensuring the fire would consume me completely. I gasped, my eyes snapping open. "Miss Evelyn? Miss Evelyn, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost." "Don't be scared, Miss Evelyn. Harper is right here." Those words. In my last life, those were the last words I heard. When Julian locked me in, Harper had tried to break the door down. Julian’s bodyguards beat her with batons. Through the crackling flames, I heard her sobbing, "Don't be scared, Miss! I'm coming to get you!" Then her voice faded. As the fire licked my knees and the smoke filled my lungs, I heard her whisper one last time, "Don't be scared... I'm going with you." I grabbed Harper's hand. It was warm. It was real. She was alive. "Harper," I stammered, "What day is it? What’s happening outside?" 2 It was the night of the Saint Jude’s Charity Gala fire. By the time Harper and I made it to the courtyard, the historic chapel was already an inferno. In the orange glow of the flames, I saw Julian. He was running frantically. He was wearing the bespoke cashmere coat I had custom-ordered for him from Italy, but the belt was missing, and he’d lost a loafer. He rushed over, his brow furrowed, his voice trembling. "Mia... Is Mia still inside?" I lowered my eyes to hide the coldness in them. In my last life, I died never understanding why Julian hated me so much. We were childhood sweethearts. He was the heir to the Pierce dynasty; I was the daughter of Senator Sterling. A match made in old-money heaven. I never wronged him. When the Pierce family stock tanked and his father had a stroke, I was the one who begged my father to pull strings and bail them out. I saved his family’s legacy. But after I died, my spirit hovered over the ashes, and I heard his venomous words: "Evelyn Sterling, if it wasn't for you... if it wasn't for you, Mia wouldn't be dead! You say you're innocent? What about Mia?! She was pregnant with my child!" "You deserve to burn. It’s called karma." That’s when I knew. He hated me for "forcing" him to marry me, for taking the spot that belonged to his true love. And he hated me for stopping him from saving her that night. I didn't know he had a lover. The so-called "cousin," Mia, was just a stray he picked up and kept under his nose. "I'm asking you, where is Mia?!" Julian screamed, shaking me. My eyes filled with tears on command. I looked at him, grabbed his arm one last time, and then released him. "Julian... Mia... she’s still in there!" This time, without me in the way, Julian could finally chase the tragic romance he wanted so badly. And so could I. 3 Julian charged in. He literally shoved me aside. The look in his eyes screamed, Don't you dare stop me. He was going to save his damsel in distress. I "tripped" and fell to the ground, feigning a leg injury. I tried to stand up, then collapsed again, sobbing theatrically. "Julian, don't go! It's too dangerous!" The crowd buzzed with gossip. Because of a massive blizzard grounding flights, half the city’s elite were stuck at this estate for the weekend. Julian wasn't just performing for me; he was performing for the entire social registry. People stared. Some mocked, some pitied. A hand reached down to help me up. It was Scarlett, a frenemy from a rival family. "You okay, Evie?" she asked. Before I could answer, Harper burst into tears. "How can she be okay? Look at her! Mr. Pierce is heartless..." I gave Harper a mental high-five. Outwardly, I wept into my handkerchief. "It's not a big deal... I'm just worried about my husband. He... he just cares too much." "The girl inside is his grandmother’s niece, his cousin. Julian is such a family man; he couldn't bear to see his grandma heartbroken." The crowd went silent. The looks of pity intensified. Someone whispered, "But that fire is massive..." I ignored them, playing the role of the devoted, terrified wife. Minutes felt like hours. Finally, Julian emerged. He looked like hell. His back was scorched, and his right leg was dragging uselessly behind him. Apparently, a beam had fallen on him. Rescue workers had found him pinned in a corner, shielding Mia with his body. Mia was wrapped in the wet cashmere coat I bought him. Aside from being a bit woozy from the smoke, she was completely unharmed. The paramedics tried to put them both on stretchers. But Julian, obsessed with being the hero, refused to let anyone touch her. He gritted his teeth and carried her out himself, despite his shattered leg. Such grit. Such passion. I watched this display of psychotic devotion and wailed, throwing myself toward them. Julian didn't even look at me. He only had eyes for Mia. Even as he was on the verge of passing out, he held her hand and screamed at me to get the best doctors for her. If the context weren't so tragic, I would have applauded. Instead, I cried until I was hyperventilating, acting completely useless. When Julian was finally patched up and brought back to the Pierce estate, his mother, the matriarch Mrs. Pierce, greeted me with a flying teacup. Crash. The porcelain shattered at my feet. "Evelyn! What kind of wife are you?!" Mrs. Pierce screamed. "Julian went out perfectly fine, and look at him now!" "He wanted to run into a fire! Why didn't you stop him?!" 4 Déjà vu. Last time, I stopped him, and she blamed me for the death of her "niece." This time I let him go, and she blamed me for his injury. I didn't say a word. I just fell to my knees. Scarlett, who had followed us, scoffed. "Mrs. Pierce, how is this Evelyn's fault?" Mrs. Pierce realized there were outsiders present and shut her mouth. But Harper wasn't done. She kept her head down but spoke loud enough for the cheap seats. "The Mrs. is being unreasonable. Mr. Pierce insisted on rushing in. He even shoved Miss Evelyn to the ground to get away from her." "Miss Evelyn hurt her leg because of him! What else was she supposed to do?" "And let's be real, Mr. Pierce came out holding that 'cousin' like she was his wife. It was... embarrassing." Mrs. Pierce turned purple. She wanted to argue, but seeing Scarlett’s judgmental smirk, she turned her rage on Harper. "You’re just a servant! Who gave you permission to speak?" I covered my face with my sleeve and bit down on the blood capsule I’d hidden in my cheek. "Harper is my staff... I will discipline her... Mother, please don't be upset..." I coughed violently, spraying a mouthful of fake blood onto the pristine carpet. Gasps filled the room. I rolled my eyes back and fainted dramatically into Harper’s arms. Chaos ensued. I kept my eyes shut, smiling internally. Let it burn. Just wait until they find out about Mia’s pregnancy. If I hadn't died in my last life, I never would have known Mia wasn't a cousin. She was an orphan Julian met on a business trip. He didn't want to bring a mistress home less than a year after our wedding—it would anger my powerful father and ruin his reputation. So he invented the "cousin" story to keep her under his roof. A "cousin" living in the house. The master of the house. And a pregnancy during a mourning period for the late grandfather. If this got out, the scandal would be delicious.
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