Portrait Of A Lady On Fire

I set fire to my painting in front of the entire academy. Thunderous applause erupts from the crowd as everyone thinks it's some kind of performance art. Unlike them, Willow Laurent is distraught. She rushes up and grabs my hand, questioning in a shrill voice, "Cassidy Seymour, have you gone mad? This is your only chance to prove yourself!" I shake her hand off me coldly. My only chance? No… What she means is that it's her chance. In my past life, I created this masterpiece with all my heart and soul. But she stole it from me and submitted it as her entry first. Whether it was the composition, the colors, or even my original dot-stippling technique… She replicated every detail flawlessly. Then, she won the National Young Artists Gold Award, signed with a top gallery, and became a rising star. And what about me? I was condemned as a shameless plagiarist. Insults and curses gradually drowned me. "You shouldn't be an artist!" "Plagiarists are scum! They should just die!" Her fans stormed into my studio, smashed my art supplies, and broke my right hand. As I saw no end to the hell that I was living in, I jumped down from the top floor of my studio. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the very day she first accuses me of plagiarism.

I was a sketch artist acting for the police. On a secret mission, I was discovered by a murderer. My eyes were gouged out, and my body was dismembered, unceremoniously dumped in a garbage bin. On the brink of death, I called my boyfriend, a criminal investigator. However, he hung up on me because he was busy accompanying his first love to a prenatal checkup. A few days later, he received a painting that was a vital clue to finding the murderer, but he thought I was playing tricks on him. In his anger, he tore that portrait to shreds. After he found out the truth, he spent the whole night searching through the garbage to piece it back together.

I 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.

At the bride selection ball, the queen herself chose me to be the crown prince's consort. Then my cousin Yvonne Johnson suddenly dropped to her knees in the middle of the hall and presented an erotic painting to the court. The woman in the painting had no face, but the rose birthmark at my waist had been rendered in chilling detail. Yvonne's eyes were red, her voice soft and cool. "I love my cousin dearly, but I can't deceive the queen. Your Majesty, please look closely. My cousin's virtue is compromised. She isn't fit to be the crown prince's consort." In a single night, my reputation was destroyed. I became the most shameless woman in the capital. Yvonne smiled at me, sweet as ever. "If your mother hadn't drawn your birthmark herself, no one would've believed that the eldest daughter of a duke's household would do something so indecent." My mother looked at me with an expression that held only resignation. "Your aunt once saved my life. I made a promise to Yvonne. I swore I'd give her the finest match in the world. But as long as you're here, you're in her way. Charlotte, my hands are tied." The ground dropped out from under me. It was my mother who'd had that painting made. She'd destroyed my name, my future, all to help her favorite niece marry the crown prince. Using my so-called disgrace as justification, she ordered me to hang myself. Meanwhile, my cousin married into the palace in glory, dressed in the gown and jewels that had been meant for me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day of the bride selection ball.

In the near-future, Earth is ravaged by nuclear detonations and out-of-control wildfires, society crumbles into a lawless wasteland. The cataclysm, known as The Burning, leaves most of the Earth scorched, the air thick with ash, and the remnants of civilization scattered and broken. This post-apocalyptic landscape is where Maya Greene, a 32-year-old former ER nurse, must navigate not only the physical dangers of survival but also the emotional wreckage of her past.

The night I find out I'm pregnant, my family's villa suddenly goes up in flames. I endure the suffocating smoke and run the risk of being disfigured as I run to my son's bedroom. However, it's empty. Just then, I hear his excited exclamations outside the window. "Monica, you look so cool when putting out fires! I bet you'll get first place in this upcoming Firefighter Challenge!" I'm about to head downstairs to lecture him when a wall collapses and crushes me. As I drift in and out of consciousness, I hear my stern, stoic husband praise Monica Sloan for her courage. If I'm guessing correctly, my husband and son have started this fire to please her. I stare at the door, which is so close and yet so far. I send out one final text before dying of asphyxiation.