Reborn Before The Heat: My Ex Begs At My Gate

The doors of Vance Tower were made of glass, so I could watch the man I loved decide to let me die. It was Day 61 of the heat. The sign above the entrance, the one Preston had paid extra for so that all of Halbrook could see how cool his tower was, read 59°C. Beneath it, in smaller green letters: INSIDE 19°C. I had been staring at those two numbers for an hour. I had walked nine kilometres to get there. The road had melted in places, and my shoes had gone soft, so that every step felt like walking on warm toffee. I had no water. I had given my last bottle to a woman on the bridge who was holding a baby, and I did not regret it, which tells you something about the person I used to be. My lips had split. But I could still stand and I could still hammer on the glass, so I did, over and over, until I could no longer feel my hands. 'Preston!' My voice was a croak. 'Preston, please!' I had paid for that glass. People forget that when they tell this story. I paid for the foundations, th

I did not scream. I would like that on record. I stood in a cloakroom with my hands flat against cold tiles, staring at a glowing blue rectangle floating beside my reflection. Then I did what any sensible woman would do after dying once already. I whispered, “I’ve gone mad.” The letters rearranged themselves. [LAST LIGHT SYSTEM] NOTICE: HOST IS NOT EXPERIENCING A PSYCHOTIC EPISODE. STATUS: REBORN. “Of course I am.” My voice shook. “What are you?” [SYSTEM INITIALISATION] SYSTEM NAME: LAST LIGHT HOST: ODESSA LANE ORIGIN: A VOW MADE AT THE MOMENT OF DEATH STATUS: ACTIVE I stared at the words. “Explain.” SYSTEM MESSAGE: I AM THE LAST LIGHT SYSTEM. YOU MADE A VOW AT THE MOMENT YOU DIED. THE LAST LIGHT HEARD IT. I AM ITS ANSWER. I thought of the steps, the glass, the pearls. If I ever got another chance, I would repay every one of them. I had meant it with everything I had left. It had not occurred to me that anything was listening. “Prove it,” I said, because I run a lo

The boardroom was on the fourth floor. It had a glass wall overlooking the atrium and a table long enough to land a plane on. A pen had been laid out for me, a heavy black one with the bank’s crest, set exactly parallel to the document, like a fork at a formal dinner. The bank manager, Mr Okonkwo, rose to shake my hand. He was a careful, silver-haired man who had been kind to me since the day I first applied for a loan. Beside him sat a lawyer from Preston’s firm, and beside the lawyer sat Preston, who had arranged his face into the expression of a proud man watching his partner do something clever. ‘Ms Lane,’ said Mr Okonkwo. ‘Shall we begin?’ The blue clock said 00:07:12. I sat down. I picked up the pen. I looked at the first page, turned it over, and then read the second. I had never in my life read a guarantee so slowly. I was aware of Preston shifting in his chair. ‘Dess,’ he said gently. ‘It’s the same paperwork as last time.’ ‘Then it won’t take long to read.’ I read to

Teddy caught me halfway down the stairs.“Where are you going?”“Work.”He glanced at the handbag pressed against my side. “At this time?”“I have something to handle.”“Is it Preston?”I stopped.He wasn’t looking at me like a child asking an adult for an explanation. He was looking at me like someone who had watched a person he loved change overnight and was trying to understand why.“Partly,” I admitted.“Are you going to him?”“I’m going to my office.”“That isn’t what I asked.”I studied his face. “Rafe is helping me with a legal problem.”He nodded slowly.“Then go.”“Teddy—”“I’m not a child, Odessa.”The words stung because he was right. I had been so busy remembering the brother I lost that I had forgotten the one standing in front of me was alive, observant, and perfectly capable of recognising when I was frightened.“I’ll be careful.”“You always say that when something is wrong.”I had no answer for him. I left before I could make another promise I wasn’t certain I could k

Nia opened the door in hospital scrubs, her hair pulled into a knot that looked one movement away from collapsing. She took one look at Teddy, the bags and my face. “Come inside.” She didn’t ask questions until the door was locked. Her flat smelled of coffee and laundry detergent. A half-finished meal sat on the kitchen counter beside a stack of nursing notes. Teddy carried our bags into the spare room while Nia led me to the sofa. “Start talking.” So I did. Not everything. Not the part about dying outside Vance Tower. Not the part about waking up ninety days before the world ended. I told her about Dahlia, the affair, the guarantee, the money paid to Pike and Company Consulting, and Gareth’s attempt to use the power of attorney. I told her how Rafe had helped me get the revocation to the bank before the deadline. Nia listened without interrupting. The longer I spoke, the more the lines around her mouth deepened. “Ten months?” she said when I finished. “Apparentl