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Chapter 1: Dying in the Rain
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2026-04-08 19:22:01The hospital room was cold. The only sound was the steady, annoying beep of the heart monitor. I lay there, unable to move, my body broken from the "accident" that happened three days ago. My husband, Maurice, stood by the window. He wasn't looking at me. He was checking his watch.
"The papers are signed, Vivian," he said, his voice flat. "The company is mine. Your family's land is sold. You’ve served your purpose."
I tried to speak, but my throat felt like it was full of glass. I had loved him. I had given him everything. My inheritance, my trust, my life.
"Why?" I managed to wheeze.
Maurice finally turned to look at me. He smiled, but it was the smile of a predator. "Stacy is waiting for me in the car. We’re going to the gala tonight to announce our engagement. It’s hard to be a grieving widower, but I think I can pull it off for a few weeks."
Stacy. My best friend. My sister in everything but blood. They had been planning this since the wedding.
He walked over and leaned down, his face inches from mine. "The brakes failing on your car wasn't a mistake. It was the solution to everything i wanted."
He reached out and pulled the plug on the machine. The beeping stopped. A long, flat tone filled the room. I felt the darkness pulling at me. My heart slowed. My last thought wasn't of love. It was of pure, burning hatred.
If I get another chance, I told the darkness, I will burn your world to the ground.
Then, everything went black.
……………….
"Miss Vivian? Miss Vivian…..” are you alright?"
The voice was so loud. Too loud. I gasped, my eyes suddenly open. I wasn't in a hospital bed. I was sitting at a desk. The air smelled of dust. I looked down at my hands. They weren't broken. They were covered in ink smudges.
I looked at the calendar on the desk. October 14th, 2023.
Two years ago. This was the day it all started. This was the day Maurice was supposed to come to the archives to "meet" me.
My heart was racing. I stood up, knocking my chair over. I ran to the small, cracked mirror in the corner of the basement. I looked young. My eyes weren't dull with grief yet, I was alive.
"Miss Vivian? You look like you’ve seen a ghost," Ben, the old security guard, said as he walked by.
"I think I am the ghost, Ben," I whispered.” I think I am the ghost.
I sat down back, , my mind spinning. I knew already, what was coming. In ten minutes, Maurice would walk through that door with a bouquet of lilies. He would tell me he loved my work. He would take me to dinner. And the trap would begin.
But not this time.
I grabbed my bag. I wasn't going to wait for Maurice. I left the basement and walked out into the bright afternoon sun. The air felt sweet. I felt like I was breathing for the very first time.
I took a taxi to the Darlington Tower. It was a massive building of glass and steel that looked like a sword pointing at the sky.
"I'm here to see Darlington," I told the receptionist, Margaret. She was a woman in her fifties with a sharp gaze.
"Do you have an appointment, dear?" she asked, not looking up from her screen.
"Tell him I have the documents for the West End development," I said. "And tell him if he doesn't see me, he’s going to lose the bid to a snake named Maurice."
That got her attention. Two minutes later, I was already in the elevator.
The top floor was silent. The carpet was so thick, and the walls were all covered in expensive art. I walked into the main office and saw him. Darlington was standing behind his desk. He was younger than I remembered, but just as imposing. His eyes were like flint.
"You have five minutes," he said, not even looking at me.
"I don't need five minutes," I also said, walking right up to his desk. "I need a contract. And you need a wife who knows where all your enemies are hiding."
Darlington finally looked up. He paused, his pen hovering over a paper. "I think you have the wrong office, Miss..."
"Thorne. Vivian Thorne," I said. "And I'm in exactly the right place.
You’re looking for a way to stop the board from voting you out. You need a stable image. You need a marriage that looks like a fairy tale so you can keep your shares. And I need someone with enough power to help me crush a man who thinks he’s already won."
Darlington leaned back in his chair. He studied me. I didn't blink. I didn't look away. I wasn't the scared girl he would have met in the other timeline. I was a woman who had already died once.
"Why me?" he asked.
"Because you're the only one Maurice is afraid of," I said. "And because I know your secret. I know about the 'Dapper' accounts. I know how you’ve been quietly buying back the debt from the Historical Society."
He went still. "How do you know that?"
"I have my ways," I said. "Do we have a deal, or do I go find another billionaire?"
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. He opened his drawer and pulled out a clean sheet of paper.
"Sit down, Vivian," he said. "Let's talk about the wedding."
As I sat there, I felt a weight lift off my chest. I wasn't a victim anymore. I was the one holding the pen. Maurice was probably standing in the basement archives right now, holding a bunch of dying lilies and wondering where his prize had gone.
He had no idea that I was already miles ahead of him.
The door opened and Clinton, Darlington's assistant, walked in. "Sir, the press is asking about the gala tonight. Should I tell them you're attending alone?"
Darlington looked at me, his eyes dark and full of something I couldn't quite read. "No, Clinton. Tell them I'll be bringing my fiancée."
He looked back at me. "I hope you have a dress, Vivian. We have a lot of people to disappoint tonight."
"I have the perfect dress," I said, thinking of the dark red silk I had seen in a window on my way here. "And I'm ready to play the game."
The rebirth had begun. And this time, I wasn't going to be the one dying in the rain.
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