MasukI gave him my loyalty, my body… even a kidney to save his life. And how did he thank me? He set me on fire.” Sheila thought she understood love. She believed in marriage, in sacrifice, in standing by the man you build a life with. But the man she trusted faked his death, stole her organ, and left her drowning in debt. Then, when she was of no use to him, he burned her alive to erase her from his perfect world. Only, Sheila didn’t die. She woke up in the bruised, broken body of another woman; a coma patient who had been struck by a powerful doctor now living with guilt. He tends to her. He doesn’t know who she truly is. And she’s not here to be saved. She’s here to settle the score. Disguised as a maid in her ex-husband’s house, Sheila keeps her head down and her eyes open. His new mistress is carrying his child—his secretary, the one he always said she was "crazy" for suspecting. The deeper she digs, the darker it gets. Money laundering. Organ trafficking. Even her kidney? Sold. But the past can’t stay buried forever. One night, he sees the birthmark on her thigh, the same one his wife had. The same one that died in the fire. He starts to unravel. She starts to rise. And when she returns to him fully reborn, fearless, and armed with evidence, he’ll finally understand: She’s not the weak wife he silenced. She’s the reckoning he never saw coming.
Lihat lebih banyakSheila’s POV
I woke up to the smell of smoke in the air, coughing. The air was thick and suffocating. My lungs screamed for relief, but I could only wheeze. “What... what’s happening?” I jolted, sitting up. Smoke curled through the room, thick and black, swallowing every shadow. The heat was unbearable.My nightgown stuck to my skin, which was already sweaty. I got out of bed and staggered to the window, my heart racing. “Help!” I screamed, throwing it open, gasping for air. “Someone help me!” The night was so quiet. No neighbors. No sirens. Just flames cracking behind me burning fast towards me like it wants to consume me. That’s when I saw him. Standing by the edge of the driveway, lit by the glow of the burning house, was Adrian,my husband. My “dead” husband. His arms were crossed, his face calm. No panic, no urgency. Just a slow, smug smile as he leaned against his sleek black car. I froze. He lifted his hand… and waved. Then he got in the car. And drove away. “No,” I whispered. “No, no, no, no…” There and then, everything clicked at once, like a slap to my soul. Earlier today. The bank. Him. Alive. “You’re evicting me?” I blinked at the bank manager. I was forced to go to the bank today after getting an eviction notice from them, trying to see if I could get an extension just like the last time. “I’m sorry, ma’am. The mortgage hasn’t been paid in over six months. The house is no longer under your name.” “Could you give me a few weeks? I promise, I’ll come up with the mortgage plus interest, even.” I pleaded, my eyes filled with tears. “My hands are tied, there’s nothing more we can do for you.” He replied. “But, but I just…” “We already sent the notice. You need to vacate by the end of the week.” I walked out of the bank, dazed, clutching the thin stack of rejection papers like they could hold me together. My stomach twisted. My head pounded. How could I owe so much? Where had the money gone? What should I do? I didn't even know I had walked out of the bank and into the street until I heard tires screeching. I turned, in shock and then I saw him. Crossing the street, alive and well, in a tailored gray suit with sunglasses on his smug, familiar face, Adrian. The man who was supposed to be dead. I dropped my bag. “Adrian?” I called. He turned, froze… then smirked. “You… you’re alive?” I gasped, storming toward him. “You faked your death?!” He sighed like I was a pest. “I don’t have time for this,” he said flatly, trying to walk past. I blocked him. “You left me buried in debt! You let me think you died in that accident!” He grabbed my arm. “Watch your mouth.” he said, gritting his teeth. “I worked four jobs to cover for you!” I shouted. “I sold my family home! I donated a kidney for you, Adrian! And you.. you just vanished?” I stammered. He looked bored. “You were useful. Now you’re not.” “Useful?” My voice cracked. “I was your wife!” He chuckled. “You were a placeholder. You should be grateful I kept you around as long as I did.” I stared at him, in disbelief. “You’re a monster.” “Call me what you want,” he sneered. “But don’t think you can run your mouth and get away with it.” I shook with rage. “I’ll expose you. I swear, I will…” He slapped me. Hard. I stumbled, the taste of blood sharp in my mouth. “Expose me?” he whispered, stepping closer. “You won’t get the chance. I should’ve silenced you long ago. Consider this your final warning.” I laughed bitterly, tears in my eyes. “You won’t get away with this.” He leaned in, cold and cruel. “Oh, sweetheart… I already have.” --- Now I understood what he meant. I ran for the door, but the hallway was an inferno. Flames licked the walls, swallowing the curtains, dancing over the pictures, our wedding photo turning into black ash. I screamed and turned back, coughing, crawling toward the bathroom, but smoke had filled it too. I couldn’t breathe. “Help!” I choked. “Please!” No answer. Just fire, roaring like a beast set loose. This was no accident. He meant every word. He set this fire. He really meant to kill me. I staggered to the window again, but the flames were too close now. My lungs were failing. My vision blurred. This was it. I dropped to my knees. He betrayed me. He used me. I gave him everything. My money. My time. My body. My kidney. And he left me to die. I lay down on the floor as the ceiling groaned, ready to collapse. I don’t want to die. Not like this. Not for him. I clenched my hands together, trembling. “If there’s anyone out there, anything. I don’t care if it’s God or the devil…” I whispered, “Give me another chance. Just one more. Let me come back. Let me make him pay.” A sudden roar cracked through the house. Then a blinding explosion of orange, red and white… And darkness. Until… I gasped My lungs drew breath like it hadn’t in days. Cold, sharp, sterile air. I bolted upright, drenched in sweat. My heart was thundering against my ribs. My fingers clawed at the sheets beneath me, clean sheets. Smooth. Not ash. Not blood. Not flames. I looked around, my eyes widened. White walls. Dim light. A faint beeping sound. A hospital? What...? I touched my face. My chest. My legs. I was alive. No burns. No fire. Just... me. I blinked hard. Once. Twice. My breath caught in my throat. Was it a dream? I reached for my arm. The one that had blistered in the fire… it was smooth. Then I looked toward the window. A city skyline blinked back at me, shining lights stretching across the night. Like nothing had happened. “What... the hell?”Vanessa's POVI threw clothes into the suitcase without folding them.Dresses. Jeans. Whatever my hands touched first in the hotel closet. Nothing matched. Nothing was organized. I didn't care. The only thing that mattered was getting everything that belonged to me and my son into two bags and getting out of this country before someone decided I was worth investigating more closely.My son slept in his carrier beside the bed, oblivious to the chaos unfolding around him. His tiny chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of infant sleep. Peaceful. Innocent. Completely unaware that his mother was dismantling their entire life and preparing to run.I paused for just a moment to look at him.He was the only good thing I'd done. The only choice I'd made in the past two years that wasn't calculated or manipulative or driven by fear and survival. Even if his father was Kyle. Even if he'd been conceived in deception. He was still mine. Still innocent.I went back to packing.The hotel room w
Adrian's POVThe handcuffs closed around my wrists with a sound that seemed louder than it should have been.Metal on metal. A definitive click that carried across the silent boardroom despite the chaos still simmering around us. Every person in that space heard it. Every camera captured it. The moment when Adrian Drake stopped being a free man and became something else entirely.The officer doing the cuffing was professional about it. Not rough, not gentle. Just efficient. He positioned my hands behind my back and secured them with the practiced ease of someone who had done this thousands of times before."Adrian Drake," he said, his voice carrying the same professional neutrality. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."The words were familiar from television, from movies, from a hundred crime dramas I'd never paid muc
Adrian's POVThe room came apart in stages.First the noise. Voices rising from every corner, overlapping questions and urgent phone calls and the rapid-fire conversation of people who understood they were witnessing something significant and were already calculating how to position themselves relative to it. Board members on their feet. Shareholders demanding explanations. The PR director typing so fast I could hear the staccato rhythm of her fingers on the tablet from across the room.Then the movement. People pushing back from the table, clustering in small groups, documents passing from hand to hand as people compared what they were reading to what they'd just heard. The journalists with their phones raised, filming everything, speaking into recorders with the clipped urgency of people racing to be first to file.And through all of it, I stood at the head of the table and didn't move.I couldn't move.My body had stopped responding to the commands my brain was sending it. Stand st
Sheila's POVThe noise in the room was rising but I wasn't finished yet.Security had paused when I lifted my skirt to show the birthmark. Even trained professionals hesitated in the face of something they hadn't been briefed on how to handle. A woman revealing a physical mark to prove her identity in the middle of a corporate boardroom had no protocol attached to it.I used that pause.I turned back to the table and let my voice cut through the chaos with the kind of clarity that came from knowing exactly what needed to be said and exactly how much time I had left to say it."Adrian Drake told his investors and his board that he needed a kidney transplant three years ago," I said. "I donated mine. I was his wife. I loved him. I believed the surgery would save his life."The room was still noisy but people were listening now, straining to hear over their own conversations with each other."The kidney was never transplanted into Adrian Drake," I continued, speaking faster now, hitting
Adrian's POVMy fingers closed around the edge of the phone.Then Vanessa stepped back and put the baby between us.Not deliberately, not as a calculated shield. It was purely instinctive, the automatic movement of a mother placing her body and the body of her child in the configuration that felt s
Sebastian's POVI had maybe three seconds.Adrian's head was turning toward me, the gun swinging in my direction. Three seconds before his eyes adjusted to the shadow at the top of the stairs and found me standing there. Three seconds before he pulled the trigger on instinct and everything ended in
Sheila's POVHe came down the stairs differently this time.Not the measured, controlled descent of a man conducting an interrogation. Not the pacing anger of someone still searching for answers. This time, each footstep landed with the weight of finality, the unhurried confidence of a man who had
Adrian's POVI arrived forty minutes early.Not because I wasn't ready. I had been preparing long before I left the hotel. I went over my statement in the shower. I refined it in the car. By the time I walked through the building doors, I was calm and focused in the way that only came from knowing












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