The Betrayed Bride’s Deadly Comeback

Being Reborn

~Lucyll's POV~

Fire. Hot and all-consuming.

I gasped awake, inhaling thick, suffocating smoke. My lungs burned, my throat raw as I coughed violently.

What the hell happened?

The last thing I remembered was coming into this room, searching for evidence to prove my father’s innocence and then passed out.

"Harvery?!" My voice cracked, barely more than a whisper against the roaring inferno. "Are you there?"

No response.

The smoke thickened, curling around me like a living thing.

My eyes burned, watering as I blinked rapidly, struggling to see. Furniture collapsed around me, walls groaned, and the fire consumed everything in its path.

I had to move. Now.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed up onto my hands and knees. The floor was scorching, blistering against my palms. A sharp crack split the air, and before I could react, a burning wooden beam came crashing down on my arm. Agony. Blinding, white-hot agony.

I screamed.

"Harvery!" I tried again, louder this time, but my voice was swallowed by the fire again.

My chest heaved as I fought for air, my body trembling with the effort to stay conscious.

The door was sealed, and I was too weak to kick it open. Even if I could, the sudden rush of oxygen would only feed the flames, sealing my fate even faster.

I stumbled toward the window, praying for a passerby—someone, anyone—who could see me and send help.

And then I saw him.

Harvery. My husband. Standing outside, with his mistress, Gizzelle, clung to his arm, his face turned toward her in a flirtatious smile.

My heart hammered as his gaze flickered toward me.

His eyebrow twitched. He must saw me.

And instead of moving to help, instead of calling for help, he turned back to Gizzelle, hooked an arm around her waist, and pulled her in, kissing her.

My stomach plummeted, my heart free-falling into a deep abyss.

The fire closed in, heat licking at my skin, stealing the air from my lungs. My body trembled, on the verge of collapse, every breath a desperate fight.

And Harvery? He was busy. His lips tangled with his mistress’s, hands gripping her as if I were already gone.

For a brief second, his gaze flicked to mine—mocking, taunting. Daring me to accept my fate. Trapped in this inferno with nowhere to go but straight into death’s waiting arms.

"I was an idiot..." My voice cracked, barely a whisper, swallowed by the roar of the flames.

I should have known.

From the moment I caught him cheating. From the moment he stood at that press conference, his voice smooth as silk, spinning his lies—claiming my father and I had embezzled from Everest Entertainment, his company. From the moment my father was dragged to jail, no hope of bail.

From the moment I clung to the foolish belief that I could fix it. That somewhere in our home—our home—there was proof to clear my father’s name.

But it had been a setup from the start.

Harvery planned everything. First the betrayal. Then my father.

And now, me.

He’d been waiting for the right excuse to get rid of me. Soon, the story would write itself—I’d be the unhinged, scorned ex-wife who conveniently set herself on fire, and Harvery? He’d walk away clean.

Had he done this because he was afraid I’d go to the press? Or did he simply want me gone?

It didn’t matter anymore.

Either way, he wanted me dead.

And I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

A fresh wave of blistering heat rolled over me as another section of the ceiling crashed down. The impact rattled through my bones, and my arms throbbed where the burning beam had struck.

I refused to die like this.

I waved desperately, my hands clawing at the smoke-thick air, hoping—praying—someone would see me. My vision blurred, pain sinking its teeth into every limb. But I refused to stop.

Just one person. That’s all I needed. One person to notice. One person to help me.

In the end, no one came...The flames devoured me in an instant. Searing pain—blinding, excruciating—ripped through my body, so intense I barely had time to process it before I was no longer myself.

My skin, my senses, my very existence—consumed.

And my last sight? Harvery, my good husband. Standing beside his mistress, also my bully of four years. Watching.

Not with regret. Not with hesitation. Just watching me burn.

Hatred surged through me, hotter than the fire licking at my flesh. It drowned out the agony, the fear, the suffocating darkness closing in.

I wanted revenge.

With my final breath, I whispered, "Let karma come for them."

Then—nothing.

…

I expected oblivion. Maybe the afterlife.

Instead, I felt… normal.

Softness cradled my body. Warmth surrounded me—not the choking, suffocating heat of flames, but something familiar. Comforting.

Then, a voice—deep, familiar, impossibly real. "Lucyll! If you don’t get your ass out of bed, you’ll be late for your graduation ceremony!"

My eyes snapped open.

Sunlight streamed through the window. My window. My bedroom. The one I had before I married Harvery. The furniture stood untouched, exactly as I’d left it eight months ago. The scent of my rose-scented pillow filled the air.

Trembling, I sat up, reaching for the mirror on my nightstand. Slowly, I lifted it, bracing myself for scars, for burns, for proof that everything had been real.

Nothing.

No burns. No wounds. No signs of the fire that had stolen my life. Just smooth, unblemished skin. My hair—still vibrant. My body—whole.

"Lucyll! Come on, you can sleep all you want after today!" My father’s voice again. Warm. Alive.

I sucked in a breath, my chest tightening.

The man who had been framed, betrayed, thrown in jail—was right here. Standing outside my door as if nothing had ever happened.

Was I reborn? Had I been given a second chance?

There was only one way to confirm this impossible thought—go along with it.

I decided to follow my memories of this day from my past life. Attend the graduation ceremony, and if I was lucky, sneak into the dance to see if everything aligned with what I remembered.

I tore through my closet, yanking out the dress my younger self had so carefully chosen for this day. Without wasting a second, I rushed into the bathroom, my hands moving on autopilot as I dusted a light layer of makeup over my face.

…

Father dropped me off at the university, he repeated exact same words as I remembered. "Sorry, pumpkin. I have to head to Everest for a shift. I can’t make the ceremony, but enjoy your day, okay?"

I drank in the sight of him, smiling through the lump in my throat. I kissed his cheek. “Be careful, Dad.”

With my heart pounding, I leaped out of the car and sprinted toward the ceremony site. Everything was just as I remembered.

With each step forward, the reality of my rebirth became clearer.

If my memory was correct, Harvery would be making his grand entrance any moment now.

And sure enough—there he was.

Same pitch black suit. Same confident stride. Same smug expression that had once made my heart flutter.

I curled my fingers into a fist, nails digging into my palms as I forced myself to breathe. This wasn’t the time to break.

If I had truly been given a second chance, I needed to play this carefully.

He hadn’t seen me yet, and that was a blessing. If he saw me looking at him with hatred, suspicion, or anything other than a naïve, infatuated graduate, he’d sense something was off. I couldn’t let that happen.

With a slow, measured breath, I let a soft, innocent expression fall over my face, mirroring the younger version of myself who had once adored him.

A girl who had yet to learn the depths of his cruelty.

And this time, I can stay ahead of Harvery and his mother. And maybe—just maybe—I can save more than just myself from the tragic fate they’ve condemned us to.