Olivia

Pain. Heat. Fire.

My skin blisters under the unbearable heat. Smoke wraps around me, thick and suffocating, clawing its way into my lungs. I thrash, desperate to escape the burning agony.

Two shadows loom just beyond the flames. Their faces twisted with cruel amusement, as if they’re enjoying my torment.

“No, please don’t do this!”

My scream cracks, raw and desperate.

“No, pleas—”

“Hold still.”

A deep, velvety voice cuts through the fog. A voice I know. It’s not the fire. It’s not hell.

I blink my eyes open, my breath ragged. The light blinds me—too pure, too white. My pulse pounds in my chest, like it might shatter. This isn’t death. The light is too clean. There’s no fire. No smoke.

Then where am I?

“Open your mouth.” The command is firm, clipped, allowing no argument.

I obey on instinct. Something cool slips beneath my tongue—metal, smooth. A thermometer?

“You still have a fever,” the voice says again, calmer this time.

My heart skips a beat. Panic surges as my gaze flicks around. The sterile scent of antiseptic mingles with something warmer, a familiar. Cologne.

Didn’t I die?

I force my eyes to focus. The world swims into view, eyes widening as I take in the figure sitting beside me.

Stormy gray eyes. Dark black suit. A scowl permanently etched onto his sharp features.

Sebastian.

A shiver racks through me, but it’s not from the fever.

“What… surprised to be alive?” His voice is cold, detached, like he’s bored. “I told you I wouldn’t let you die. It’s pathetic. Suicide? Really? Do you hate me that much?”

More tears sting my eyes before I can stop them. This… this feels like déjà vu.

No. Not déjà vu. This has definitely happened before.

Suicide.

Yes! Yes! I remember now—when I had tried to take my own life because Sebastian had locked me up, preventing me from attending a gala with Philip.

Have I been—

Blood rushes to my ears. My breaths come short and fast as a terrifying realization settles like ice in my gut.

Have I been reborn?

My fingers dig into the sheets, my mind spinning too fast, trying to grasp onto logic, onto anything that makes sense. But nothing does.

Sebastian’s voice drags me back. “What, you can’t speak now?”

I force my eyes up, locking onto his.

His stormy gray irises are bloodshot, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them. His usually sharp, pristine suit is wrinkled—from taking care of me?

My throat tightens, a lump forming so thick I can barely swallow.

Regret churns in my stomach, sickening and bitter. Tears burn behind my lids.

I did this to him.

He scowls deeper, his lips curling like he just tasted something foul. “Let me guess—you’re disappointed it’s me standing here instead of that bastard Philip. Must be torture for you.”

A glint of something—pain?—swims in his gaze before vanishing behind a cold mask.

But I saw it.

“Doesn’t matter. Go ahead, run to your beloved Philip. Mark will be by this afternoon—with the divorce papers you were so desperate for.”

No.

No, I can’t let this happen!

If I really have been given a second chance, then this is it. This is the moment I change everything.

My body moves before I can think, my throat tight as panic surges through me. “Wait, I don’t want a divorce!”

I blurt out, my voice hoarse, as if I really had just escaped hell—which, technically, I have.

My fingers stretch out, reaching for him, desperate to grasp onto something real. But I miss.

The world tilts as I lose my balance. My heart leaps in terror, bracing for the cold, hard impact of the floor—

But it never comes.

Cold, icy fingers clamp around my waist, yanking me forward. My body collides with something solid, strong. Warm.

Tears spring to my eyes as I look up at Sebastian, at his face—his perfect, unblemished face.

No scars.

No signs of the pain I had caused. No remnants of the monster I had turned him into.

I remember every confidential document I funneled to Philip, every stolen piece of intel I handed over without hesitation, convinced I was dismantling be a monster, a madman.

God.

My stomach twists violently. I ate every single lie my best friend and lover fed me, swallowing them whole like a fool—a blind, desperate fool.

My chest constricts with guilt so thick it’s suffocating. The weight of my own stupidity presses down on me, heavier than the fever, heavier than the past I can’t undo… until now.

“What did you just say?” Sebastian’s voice is hoarse, laced with something close to disbelief.

My lips part, my voice barely above a whisper. “Sebastian… I don’t want a divorce. Please. Don’t leave me.”

For a moment—just a single, fleeting moment—silence stretches between us. Then, he scoffs.

The sound cuts through me, bitter, empty.

A cold hand presses to my shoulder, pushing me back onto the bed.

“What now? Another trick?”

My breath hitches, Of course, he doesn’t believe me. Why would he?

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration leaking into his breath. Then, he steps closer.

His next words hit me like a slap. “Did you know how I felt when I saw your wrists bleeding?”

I don’t flinch. I won’t flinch.

Because I see it now—the raw, gut-wrenching exhaustion in his eyes. The unsaid plea behind his cold mask.

He felt something.

He still feels something.

“For what?” His voice sharpens. “You cut your wrists, Olivia…all for what?!”

Tears escape, hot and unrelenting. My hands fold together, a silent prayer for a second chance.

“Give me another chance, Seb,” I whisper.

Sebastian stills.

His eyes flicker—confusion, hesitation. But just as quickly, the wall slams back into place.

A disbelieving laugh escapes him.

He shakes his head, his expression unreadable.

“How can I believe you when you were willing to die just to make me divorce you?”