LOGINI 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.
View MoreSheila’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?”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
Sheila's POVI felt every eye in the room find me.Not all at once. It happened in a wave, starting from the people nearest the back doors and rolling forward as I walked, each person catching the shift in the room's attention and turning to follow it until by the time I was halfway down the center aisle, every face was pointed in my direction.I didn't rush.I had learned patience in Adrian's house. Six months of moving slowly through rooms, of being invisible on purpose, of controlling every gesture and expression so precisely that nothing leaked through unless I wanted it to. That discipline lived in my body now. It didn't leave just because the game had changed.I walked like I belonged there.Because I did.The security director reached me before I made it to the front. He was a broad man with the particular stillness of someone trained to handle disruptions without creating scenes. He stepped into my path and said something low and professional about my credentials needing verif
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 exactly what you were going to say and how you were going to say it.I arrived early because the room needed to feel like mine before anyone else walked into it.I learned that lesson years ago when the company was still small and the stakes were lower. The person who was already in the room when everyone else arrived always had the upper hand. It was hard to explain exactly why, but it worked every time. People walked in and naturally arranged themselves around you. Your position at the head of the table stopped feeling like a choice and started feeling like the way things were supposed to be.I stood at the window on the forty-second floor and looked out over the city and felt myself settl






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