Chapter 9: What Remains After the Fire

Rachel’s POV

One Months Later

The faint hum of a monitor. The sterile smell of antiseptic. The weight of bandages pressing against my skin.

When I tried to move, pain tore through my body like a fire being reignited. My throat was dry, my lips cracked. Even breathing hurts beyond one could imagine.

For a moment, I thought I was still in that warehouse. Still surrounded by flames. But then I heard the soft, steady beep of a heart monitor and realized I wasn’t dead.

I was alive. Somehow.

I turned my head slowly, my vision blurring at the edges. The room was white, almost too white with the sunlight leaking through pale curtains. I could barely lift my hand, wrapped thickly in gauze, but I managed to touch the bandages on my face. My fingers were met with rough texture and pure pain.

“Don’t move too much,” a voice said quietly.

A man sat near the window, his posture stiff, his dark eyes shadowed by exhaustion. His hair was slightly messy, and the light caught the edge of his jaw.

“Who…” My voice came out so hoarse that I couldn’t recognise it as my own. “Who are you?”

He stood slowly. “You most likely have heard of me before, I’m George.”

The name felt distant, familiar. I frowned, searching my memory.

“George…”

He hesitated, then said softly, “Mike’s son.”

The world tilted. My chest tightened. “Your… father…”

“He’s the one who took you,” George finished for me, his voice low. “And I was the one that found you.”

I stared at him, unable to process it. The man before me was calm, composed, everything his father wasn’t. Mike’s son, who he tried to kill me for, had rescued me from that nightmare?

He ran a hand through his hair, the motion tight with guilt. “I didn’t know what my father was planning. He called me that night, and I thought he was just drunk again. I didn’t pick up until later. When I finally did…” His voice faltered. “The things I said weren’t pleasant and resulted in your misfortune. I’m sorry.”

The silence between us was heavy.

“I thought about it quite a bit afterwards and had a feeling that it was different from his usual drunk antics, so I tracked his phone signal. By the time I found the warehouse, it was already burning.”

My stomach twisted. I could still feel the heat licking at my skin, the choking smoke, the sound of wood collapsing.

“Was he…” I swallowed. “Was Mike still there?”

George’s gaze shifted away. “No. He ran. Like he always did.”

I sank back against the pillow, a faint tremor running through me. Somehow, it didn’t surprise me. 

George’s voice softened more. “When I pulled you out, you were barely breathing. The doctors said it was a miracle you survived.”

I closed my eyes, and tears slipped out uncontrollably. As the flames and smoke engulfed me, I was so terrified. I was scared when I desperately dragged my bounded, aching body, towards the exit, crawling on all fours inch by inch, fighting for the hope of living.

I screamed, begging for help, for God to save me. I couldn't let my young daughter be without her mother’s care. And I desperately wanted to ask Adrian why he was so cruel to me? I called him so many times, but he didn’t even pick up, not even once. Why couldn't he stand by my side, even just once?

George said nothing for a while, only watched me with that haunted look people wear when they know words won’t help.

When I finally opened my eyes again, I caught my reflection in the metal tray beside the bed.

The right side of my face was covered in gauze, but even through the wrappings, I could see the extent of the damage underneath. My cheekbone was swollen and uneven, a deep red scar running from the corner of my jaw up to my temple. My arm was no better, stiff and wrapped from wrist to shoulder.

A quiet sob escaped before I could stop it. I looked at George, pleading for some good news.

George turned away slightly and didn’t dare to look at me. “The beam must’ve hit you when the roof started to collapse,” he said quietly. “Your face, your arm… I’m sorry.”

I was too tired. Too tired and too desperate to say anything anymore. It felt as if a gaping hole had been punched in my heart, and anything that I tried to fill it with just slid right out. My fingers curled slightly as I touched my bandaged face. I had been caught in something that was never mine to begin with, a cruel mistake that burned everything it touched.

George’s expression darkened. His silence was heavy, filled with regret that words couldn’t fix. “I didn’t think my words would push him that far. If I had known…” He stopped himself, exhaling slowly. “I’m sorry.”

He apologized, but he wasn't even the person I should blame. But who could I vent my anger and despair on now?

"Why...why was Mike targeting Adrian?" My voice was hoarse. Every conversation with Mike was still vivid in my memory. His target was Adrian, and he only got me because he couldn't reach Adrian.

Another bloody and painful truth that was slowly eating at my brain was that Adrian protected Marissa so well, that no one even had the thought to target her. He had that capability to care, but he never spared any of it for me. Not when I desperately searched for my daughter in the pitch-black night. Not when he never bothered to tell me that Amber had returned home safely, leaving me alone in my despair.

"I'm sorry, but your husband and I don’t have the greatest relationships. Our businesses are competitors, and in turn, we are as well. Mike believes that ... dealing with Adrian will benefit me." His voice trailed off, and his face grew increasingly grim. I let out a bitter laugh. The crazed Mike orchestrated the kidnapping to gain his son's forgiveness, and I became the only victim in all of this.

Exhaustion and pain reminded me I was still alive. Every inch of my burned skin, bound by bandages, still caused me immense agony. My throat was hoarse from speaking just a few words, and I started to cough violently. George quickly handed me a glass of water, but I couldn't even hold it properly.

The sound of the glass shattering on the floor was jarring. George shouted for the doctor and nurses, but my thoughts sank, like a drowning person sinking into a dark, deep sea. It just kept sinking.

When I awoke again, it was another sunny day, and George was still there.

His eyes were filled with compassion and guilt. Understandably so, but I had no intention of tormenting someone who hadn't intended to harm me. And at the end of the day, he did save me, when no one else would.

The following days after that were consisted of only pain and agony. Both emotionally and physically.

Every time the nurses unravelled my bandages, I relearned what pain was like.

My burnt flesh was constantly oozing pus, which in turn made the bandages stick like glue. Each layer they undid, felt like another layer of my skin was being ripped off.

Sometimes, when it got so bad that I was almost fainting from pain, I would think about my daughter. My sweet little girl. I wondered whether she had eaten yet, and whether she was sleeping properly.

More than anything, I hope that she isn’t crying anymore, not where I can’t see her. The thought of never seeing my little girl again frightened me.

"I will live," I whispered to myself softly.

This declaration seemed to give me strength. I endured countless days of having my bandages removed and dressings changed, countless nights lying there, missing Amber. And resenting Adrian.

When I asked around, I came to the realization that there was no news about billionaire Adrian's wife going missing, as if I were just some insignificant person that had vanished from this world, as if the fire that night had never happened.

George had asked me if I wanted to contact my husband. But I refused.

The phone calls that were never made during the kidnapping made one thing clear to me. Adrian had never cared about me. Even if I stood in front of him now, he would probably only show disgust and let me walk away, he might even be disappointed that I was still alive. I hadn’t prepared well now. And when I returned, I would let him regret treating me like trash.

My tears and blood just made me stronger.

The days blurred together after that.

One afternoon, sunlight spilled through the hospital window, and George walked in with a small smile. “The doctor said you can finally move around tomorrow.”

I blinked. “Tomorrow?”

He nodded. “You’ve healed as much as you can here. The rest will take time.”

I hesitated before asking, “in that case, can you take me somewhere?”

“Where?”

“The school,” I whispered. “My daughter’s school.” As soon as I said this, the desire and longing that had been building up for the past months seeped out uncontrollably.

He frowned slightly. “Are you sure?”

“I just… need to see her.” 

I miss my baby so much. 

He didn’t even try to argue with me. 

The next morning, I sat quietly in the passenger seat of his car, a scarf wrapped tightly around my face. Every movement made my wounds ache, but my heart beat with a strange kind of anticipation.

When we stopped near the school gate, I leaned toward the window. Children spilled out of the building, laughter echoing through the air.

And then I saw her.

Amber.

Her small frame, her ponytail bouncing as she ran. My breath caught painfully in my chest.

I wanted to open the door, to run to her, to hold her and tell her everything was okay. But when I reached for the handle, my reflection in the window stopped me. The faint outline of my bandages, the hollow in my cheeks, the stranger I had become.

I remember the last argument I had with Amber, about her disappointment in me. After the fire, my appearance was terrifying even to myself. Would I make my daughter ashamed and run away again when I stand in front of her? I left my hand on the car door handle for minutes, hesitating and afraid to make the next move.

Then I saw Amber spot a familiar figure ahead and broke into a run. Adrian knelt down, smiling as he opened his arms.

She jumped into them with a giggle.

Marissa appeared beside them, sunglasses perched on her perfect face, one manicured hand resting on Amber’s shoulder as if she belonged there. Adrian said something that made them both laugh.

My heart clenched. They looked like a family. Perfect. Complete without a single piece missing. Even without me, my husband and daughter’s lives were perfect. Maybe they didn't need me, and my 'death' was the perfect opportunity for them to let Marissa replace me.

George glanced at me in the rear-view mirror from the driver’s seat but said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Adrian’s eyes shifted suddenly toward our car. Recognition flickered across his face. His expression hardened as he started walking toward us.

My pulse spiked. George’s hands tightened on the wheel.

Adrian stopped beside the car window, his voice low, sharp and dangerous.

“Get out of the car.”