The Phoenix's Rebirth and Revenge

I died in warm water.

That's the detail that haunts me most. Not the betrayal or the fear, but the warmth. The bath had been drawn perfectly, scented with jasmine oil, steam rising from the surface. Such a beautiful place to die.

My wedding dress hung on the door, a beacon of white against the dark mahogany. Sixteen hours until I would wear it down the aisle toward Rafael, the man whose smile had been my sun for three years. Sixteen hours that never came.

I remember lifting the teacup to my lips, Isabella watching me with those calculating eyes. "To your happiness," she'd said, and I, the trusting, naive fool that I was, had smiled and thanked her. My stomach knotted with the weight of what I'd discovered hours earlier; documents linking Rafael to my father's mysterious car accident four years ago. Papers suggesting the man I loved had orchestrated my father's death. My heart had fractured with each damning word I'd read.

The sedative worked quickly. My limbs grew heavy as I soaked in the tub, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I still believed in explanations then. Still believed Rafael would have reasons that could somehow make sense of such betrayal. The ache in my chest felt physical, as if my heart were tearing itself apart.

The bathroom door opened. Through blurring vision, I saw Isabella's silhouette.

"You should never have had him," she said, voice soft as she approached. Her eyes, I'll never forget the cold satisfaction in them. "Some women are matches, meant to be struck and discarded. I am gasoline."

I tried to rise, to fight, but my body betrayed me. Panic surged through me as her hand pressed against my chest, pushing me under. Water closed over my face, warm as blood. I thrashed, movements sluggish, ineffectual. The terror of knowing I would die here, alone, betrayed by the people I trusted most, it clawed inside me as viciously as my need for air.

In my final moments, I heard Rafael's voice in the distance, calling my name in panic. The desperation in it confused me. Was he part of this? Or another victim of Isabella's schemes? Too late. Always too late.

The last thing I felt was my engagement ring sliding from my finger as darkness claimed me. The ring that symbolized promises that would never be kept, a future stolen from me by hands I once held with love.

Death wasn't the end. But I didn't know that yet.

                       .* * *

I gasped awake, lungs burning as if I'd been underwater for two years. My hands flew to my throat, expecting to feel water gushing from my lips. Instead, dry air filled my chest, sweet and painful all at once. Terror gripped me, the memory of drowning so vivid I could still feel water filling my lungs.

But these weren't my hands.

I stared at the slender fingers, the oval nails painted deep burgundy. Not my golden-brown skin but porcelain pale with the faintest olive undertone. Not my hands. Not my body. Fear, different but no less intense, washed through me.

The room spun around me, unfamiliar, opulent, with vaulted ceilings and silk draperies in deep emerald. A man sat beside the bed, dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. Handsome, mid-thirties, with a predator's watchful stillness.

"Welcome back, Natalia," he said, his Italian accent rolling the syllables of a name that wasn't mine.

"Who," My voice caught, unfamiliar in my throat. Higher than mine, melodic. The sound of it brought tears to my eyes. Another piece of myself, lost.

"You're confused. That's to be expected." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Water. Warmth. Death. The crushing weight of betrayal.

"I drowned," I whispered, my voice breaking on the word.

Something flashed in his eyes;surprise, then calculation. "Yes," he said slowly. "And now you're here."

"Where is here? Who are you? Who am," I touched my face, feeling sharp cheekbones, a narrow nose. Not my face. Tears welled and spilled over; I couldn't stop them. "What's happening to me?"

"I'm Lorenzo De Luca," he said, voice gentling as he saw my distress. "Your brother."

I shook my head, the movement triggering a wave of dizziness. "No. My name is Alina Verma. I don't have a brother." I choked back a sob. "I'm supposed to be dead."

"Your name was Alina Verma. Now you're Natalia De Luca. My sister." He stood, moving to a gilded mirror on the wall. "Come. See for yourself."

On unsteady legs, longer than mine had been, I crossed to the mirror. The woman who stared back was a stranger: raven-haired, pale-skinned, with eyes the color of aged whiskey. Beautiful in a sharp, dangerous way that Alina never was. I touched my face,her face,watching the reflection mimic my movements. Grief for my lost self crashed through me.

"How is this possible?" My fingers traced the reflection, the unfamiliar planes of this new face. "I don't understand. I died."

"We have much to discuss," Lorenzo said, his hand on my shoulder. His touch was gentle but firm, steadying. "About rebirth. About second chances." His grip tightened slightly. "About revenge."

I turned to face him, this man claiming to be my brother in this strange new existence. "Revenge?" The word tasted different on these new lips,sweeter, more seductive.

"Against the man who took everything from you. Rafael Moretti." Lorenzo's eyes hardened. "And the woman who held you under."

At Rafael's name, memories flooded through me; his smile, his touch, his betrayal. The documents linking him to my father's murder. Isabella's voice: ‘Some women are matches…’ Pain and rage twisted together in my chest, a knot I couldn't untangle.

I looked down at my inner wrist, startled to find a small, intricate tattoo of a phoenix rising from flames.

"Why do I have this?" I touched it, feeling a strange warmth emanate from the design.

Lorenzo's smile was grim. "Because you, sister, have risen from the ashes of Alina Verma. And now you will burn them all."

In that moment, standing in a stranger's body with a stranger's face, I felt something crystallize within me, purpose cutting through the confusion and fear. Alina had died in warm water, betrayed and alone. But Natalia... Natalia would rise with fire.