Ashes of the Inheritance

Flames—towering and merciless—devoured Evelyn Collins’ vision in an instant. She stirred her broken, ravaged body, her fingernails digging savagely into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped wounds deep enough to draw blood. A gash, a finger's width across her chest, still oozed dark crimson, staining the ground beneath her into a terrifying pool of gore. As the searing heat around her intensified, Evelyn's gaze grew increasingly venomous. She could never have imagined that after years of loyal service and silent devotion to the Scott Family, her reward would be a fiery grave, her body reduced to nothing but ashes. Agonizing pain surged through her, yet she mustered every last breath to scream her hatred and despair at the tightly shut doors. "Frank Scott! Ivy Moore! In my next life, I swear—I will grind your bones to dust!" ⋯⋯ **Two Hours Earlier** In the desolate quiet of a modest two-story villa, Evelyn Collins sat numbly on the couch, her trembling hands clutching a divorce agreement. She picked up her phone, only to set it down again, unable to summon the courage to make the call. Just as sorrow engulfed her, the sound of an engine cutting off came from outside the house. A flicker of hope sparked in her chest. She stood up quickly—only to see Frank Scott, the man she had longed for, step through the door. "Frank, you're back! Have you had dinner? Would you like me to make you something?" She hid the papers behind her back, deliberately ignoring the chasm that had already split their marriage apart. But the moment she caught sight of the woman who followed closely behind Frank— Ivy Moore—the blood drained from her face. "Frank? What... what is the meaning of this?" With his arms wrapped intimately around Ivy Moore's waist, Frank Scott wore a look of flirtatious delight as he gazed at the beauty beside him. Yet at the very next second, the moment he turned to Evelyn Collins, his expression twisted into one of naked disgust. “Evelyn, just looking at you makes my skin crawl. Do yourself a favor—sign the damn divorce papers and stop making a scene.” Were those truly the words of a husband? Each syllable pierced Evelyn's heart like rusted nails, cruel and merciless. She stood frozen, breath catching painfully in her throat, as though an invisible hand had seized her heart in a crushing grip. Why? She had already endured his betrayal—why was that not enough? Why did he still insist on kicking her away like something worthless? She had already lost everything. She couldn't bear to lose the man she loved—not him, either. Evelyn's desperate, misplaced affection only earned her a scornful, mocking laugh from Ivy Moore. Ivy’s boneless, serpentine frame leaned even closer to Frank, parading her triumph with savage elegance. “Wake up, sweetheart,” Ivy sneered. "The Collins family is bankrupt. Your parents have both jumped to their deaths. What leverage do you think you still have to keep clinging to Frank?” Evelyn's face turned ghostly pale, her body swaying as if the ground beneath her had given way. “Is that why? Frank, don't you dare forget—it was I who begged my father to grant you that three percent stake in Collins Family Corporation!” She had just buried her parents, barely begun to grieve—and now she was to be discarded like refuse. “Heartbroken” no longer sufficed to describe the storm raging within her. Frank merely curled his lip in disdain, his eyes glinting with barely concealed schadenfreude. “Three percent? You think I care about that? I now control sixty percent of Collins Family Corporation…” His words came to an abrupt halt as Ivy shoved him in a panic. But it was too late. Evelyn’s composure finally shattered. “What did you just say?!” A suffocating sense of dread overtook her mind, the kind that silences all logic and amplifies every doubt. Evelyn Collins could no longer restrain the rising storm within her—she stepped forward, one trembling step after another, eyes fixed on Frank Scott with grim determination. “Explain yourself! I am your wife! Or do you still think it's necessary to hide the truth from me?” Frank Scott exchanged a glance with Ivy Moore—mocking, disdainful, and utterly unapologetic. “Well, since we've come this far, I suppose I might as well be honest,” he said, his voice thick with chest resonance. "The Collins Family Corporation never went bankrupt. We just moved all the assets under my name." He drew a cigarette from his pocket, lit it with deliberate arrogance, and exhaled a cloud of smoke directly into Evelyn's pallid face. Rather than shame, his expression glowed with pride as he delivered the final blow. “Thanks to you constantly pleading with your father on my behalf, persuading shareholders to back me—I couldn't have taken over Collins Family Corporation so easily without your help.” The truth, cruel and bare, landed like a thunderclap. Evelyn's vision darkened; she nearly collapsed. Her hands clutched the back of the sofa to steady herself. When she lifted her gaze again, her eyes were bloodshot, ringed in red fury. So… her parents’ deaths—was it all orchestrated by him? They had died without ever knowing the hideous truth, still urging her in their final letter to cherish and support Frank for the rest of her life. But Evelyn had no time to process this grief. The next wave of devastation struck before she could even draw breath. Frank flicked the ash from his cigarette, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips. “Ever wondered why you could never get pregnant after all these years? Remember that appendectomy you had? Go ahead, feel your abdomen—see if anything's out of place.” A delighted giggle escaped Ivy Moore, who covered her mouth in feigned modesty, clearly reveling in the horror unfolding before her. “What… what did you do to my body!?” Evelyn's eyes went wide with terror. Her hand moved to her lower stomach, and it felt as though something inside her was being ripped from her soul, tearing out blood and sinew with it. In a fit of despair, she lunged forward. Her nails raked viciously across Frank's face, leaving bloody welts. Enraged, he hurled her to the floor with such force that pain exploded from her elbow as it hit the ground. Before her cry of agony even faded, Frank's shadow loomed again. The still-burning cigarette was pressed mercilessly against her collarbone. Her scream tore through the house, shaking the rafters, the acrid scent of scorched flesh thick in the air. Monster. He was a monster in human skin. Evelyn lay crumpled on the floor, pain twisting through every fiber of her being. Her strength was gone; she could only gasp, drenched in sweat, her blouse soaked through. “Pathetic,” Frank spat, literally—his saliva landing on her cheek as his venomous glare bore into her. Blood still trickled from his face, but his rage only intensified. Grabbing her by the chin, he struck her with brutal, alternating slaps. Her ears rang. Her vision blurred. She barely noticed when a pen was shoved into her hand, and her name was scrawled shakily across the divorce agreement under Frank's iron grip. “Frank Scott… You heartless bastard… You'll die a miserable death!” She forced the words out with her last ounce of strength. Tears flooded her eyes, and at that moment of raw grief, she saw him reach for the fruit knife on the coffee table. With a wet, chilling *thud*, the blade plunged into her chest. Blood gushed across Frank's face, staining him from collar to cuff. Behind him, Ivy Moore screamed, her mask of triumph shattered by the horror. Her shriek jolted Frank out of his murderous daze. Evelyn whimpered softly, fingers clutching at Frank's suit jacket in a final, futile plea—then fell limp, arms dropping to the floor. “Frank Scott… you… you've committed murder!!!” But the man said nothing. Calmly, he turned and walked into the kitchen. Moments later, he returned with a full canister of gasoline. Without hesitation, he poured it over the curtains, the couch, the cabinets— —and Evelyn Collins' blood-soaked body. “It's over,” he murmured coldly. “Why must you make everything so complicated?” With a flick, the flame leaped from his lighter. A soft whoosh. A burning arc. The fire took hold in a heartbeat, illuminating the room in a blaze of orange and gold. He closed the door behind him with a final, echoing *bang*, shutting out the last glimmer of hope. On the coffee table, Evelyn's phone lit up again and again. “William Collins”—the name flashed on the screen, But she would never see it again.