Chapter 7: Into the Flames

Maxwell’s POV

My assistant burst through my office door without knocking. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Mr. Chamberlain!” he gasped, gulping air. “The hospital—where your wife—there’s been a fire!”

The words stopped me dead. I shot up from my chair so fast it toppled backward.

“What did you say?”

“Serenity Wellness Center,” he panted. “It’s on fire. The whole building.”

I didn’t wait for him to finish. I shoved past him and ran. Down the hallway, past confused employees, into the elevator that took forever to reach the ground floor. My hands shook as I jabbed the parking garage button.

Cars honked as I cut them off during my drive there, but I didn’t slow down. I ran every red light, took corners so sharp my tires screeched against the road. My heart was the only thing racing faster than my car.

Regina.

When I arrived, towering flames reached toward the black sky, engulfing the entire building. Fire trucks surrounded the scene, their sirens wailing so loud I could barely think straight.

The heat reached me even from across the street—a wall of scorching air that made my skin prickle.

I darted through the crowd of onlookers, scanning every face, searching for that familiar silhouette. Paramedics wheeled out stretcher after stretcher. Patients in hospital gowns stumbled around in shock.

But I didn’t see her.

Where was she?

“Maxwell!”

I spun around. Morgana ran toward me, her face streaked with black soot and tears. Her clothes were singed, her hair disheveled.

“Thank God you’re here,” she sobbed, grabbing my arm. “I tried to get to her, I swear I tried—”

“Where is she?” I demanded, gripping her shoulders. “Where’s Regina?”

Her face crumpled. “She’s still inside. I couldn’t reach her room. The hallway was blocked by rubble and the smoke was so thick—”

A chill crept up my spine. I didn’t hear the rest.

“What floor?” I snapped.

“Third floor, but Maxwell, you can’t—”

I shook her off and sprinted toward the building. Behind me, Morgana screamed my name. Firefighters shouted warnings, tried to grab me, but I was already moving too fast.

The lobby was an inferno. Flames licked the walls, ceiling tiles crashed down around me. The heat was unbearable—like being inside an oven. Smoke burned my lungs with every breath.

“Regina!” I roared, my voice already hoarse. “Regina!”

No answer.

I found the stairwell and took the steps three at a time. My lungs screamed for clean air but I pushed through. Second floor. Third floor. The hallway was nothing but smoke and fire.

“Regina!” I called again, kicking open door after door. Empty rooms. Overturned furniture. Broken glass everywhere.

The heat was getting worse. My shirt stuck to my back, soaked with sweat. My skin felt like it was blistering.

Another door. Another empty room.

“Where are you?” I shouted into the chaos.

My throat was raw now. I gasped and wheezed, unable to get enough oxygen. The smoke was so thick I could barely see my own hands.

I kept moving. Door after door. Room after room.

Nothing.

She has to be here somewhere.

The flames roared louder now, eating through the walls, the ceiling. Somewhere above me, I heard the groaning of metal under stress.

“Regina!” My voice cracked. “Please!”

That’s when I heard it—the sharp crack of splintering wood above my head.

I looked up just as a massive ceiling beam broke free. It plummeted toward me like a falling tree. I tried to dodge but there wasn’t enough time.

The beam slammed into my skull with a sickening thud.

Everything went black.

***

Pain.

That was the first thing I felt when consciousness crawled back. A throbbing ache that pulsed behind my eyes like a heartbeat. My head felt like someone had split it open with an axe.

I blinked slowly. White ceiling. White walls.

“Maxwell?” A soft voice beside me. Morgana sat in a chair next to my bed, her eyes puffy and red. “You’re awake.”

I tried to sit up but my head exploded with pain. “Regina,” I croaked. “Where—”

“Shh.” Morgana pressed her hand against my chest, gently pushing me back down. “You need to rest. You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

Two days. The words didn’t register at first.

“Regina,” I said again, louder this time. “Where is she? Did they get her out?”

Morgana’s face crumpled. Teardrops fell down her cheeks.

“Maxwell…” she whispered.

Bile burned the back of my throat. “Tell me.”

“The firefighters found her,” she said quietly. “After they pulled you out… they found her body.”

“No.”

“I’m so sorry—”

“No!” I lurched upright, ignoring the pain that shot through my skull. “You’re lying. She’s not—that’s impossible.”

Morgana just cried harder.

An hour later, I stood in the morgue on legs that felt like jelly. The air there was cold as death, but I was still dripping with sweat,

“This is impossible,” I said coldly to the coroner. “That’s not her. Do you know what happens to people who lie to me?”

The man in the white coat said nothing. His face remained blank.

How could she be dead? I hated what she’d done, yes—the drugs, the lies, the betrayal. But I’d never imagined losing her.

Not like this.

“Mr. Chamberlain,” the coroner said gently. “I understand this is difficult, but—”

“Show me,” I snapped.

He hesitated, then pulled back the white sheet.

The corpse was charred beyond recognition. Blackened skin, burned hair, features melted away by the flames.

But there, on the left ring finger, was the wedding ring I’d chosen with my own hands. The platinum band with the emerald-cut diamond.

The ring I’d slipped onto her finger the day she promised to love me forever.

The room spun. The air rushed out of my lungs like someone had punched me in the chest.

“Sir?” the coroner asked. “Are you alright?”

But I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but stare at that ring and feel the world could not hold me anymore.