Chapter 1

The pain was a memory, sharp and final, then nothing.

Now, air filled my lungs, a gasp, a shock.

I sat up, not in the desolate wasteland where they left me, but in my old, small bedroom.

Sunlight, the same damn sunlight from that cursed morning, streamed through the window.

My hands, they weren't broken, not scarred.

I was whole.

My paramedic uniform lay folded on the chair.

The calendar on the wall read the date Mrs. Belmont first came.

My first life, a horror show.

My mother, Maria, a kind soul, believed the Belmonts saved me from a childhood accident.

She told them about my "Healing Aura," a family secret, a miracle cure for those I truly committed to, usually through marriage.

I married Victoria Belmont, Vicky, to "cure" her rare autoimmune disease, a debt I thought I owed.

A month later, she was "cured."

Gifts rained down.

Then, my birthday.

Vicky, beautiful and cruel, with her lover Dylan Vance, told me it was all a lie.

She was never sick, or so she claimed Dylan convinced her.

They said Mom and I faked her illness to get into their wealthy family, to separate her from Dylan.

They tortured me, left me to die.

My parents, ruined. Dad' s hardware store bankrupted, Mom driven mad.

I learned too late Sarah Miller, a quiet librarian, was my true savior, not the Belmonts.

Now, I was back.

A knock on the door.

"Ethan, dear, Mrs. Belmont is here to see you," Mom called.

Her voice, not yet broken by grief.

I steeled myself. This time, it would be different.

I walked downstairs.

Mrs. Belmont sat on our worn sofa, elegant and cold.

"Ethan," she began, her voice smooth, "your mother has told me about your... gift."

"It's an old family superstition, Mrs. Belmont," I said, my voice even. "Vicky needs proper medical treatment."

Mom looked surprised, "Ethan, what are you saying?"

"It' s just stories, Mom."

Mrs. Belmont' s eyes narrowed. "Even if it's a small chance, for Victoria, I must try."

Before I could refuse again, the front door burst open.

Vicky.

She looked exactly as I remembered, beautiful, arrogant, and radiating malice.

And she was staring at me with a dawning, horrified recognition.

"You!" she shrieked, pointing a finger. "You and your mother! You' re trying it again! Fabricating my illness to trap me, to keep me from Dylan!"

She threw a medical report onto the coffee table. "See, Mother? I' m perfectly healthy! This is a recent check-up!"

A clean bill of health, likely from a remission or a paid-off doctor. Dylan's work, no doubt.

Mrs. Belmont snatched the report, her face a mixture of confusion and hope. "Victoria, are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure! He' s a conman!" Vicky screamed.

Mrs. Belmont looked at me, her expression hardening. "Get out of my sight. And stay away from my daughter."

Mom started to protest, "Mrs. Belmont, please..."

"Enough, Maria," I said, gently touching her arm. "We' ll leave."

As I turned to go, Vicky stepped in front of me, her eyes blazing.

"You think you can fool me again?" she hissed.

Then, she staggered.

A cough, a small, delicate sound at first, then a wracking spasm.

She clutched her chest, her face paling.

Blood, dark red, frothed at her lips and splattered onto our cheap rug.

Mrs. Belmont gasped, "Victoria!"

Vicky stared at me, her eyes wide with a new kind of terror.

"You... you' re different," she choked out, blood staining her chin. "You remember too. You' re doing this to me!"

I looked at her, at the real, undeniable sickness consuming her.

"I want nothing to do with you, Victoria," I said, my voice flat. "You were never my savior. Stay away from me and my family."

I walked out, Mom following, leaving the Belmonts to their dawning nightmare.

This time, I knew who to save. And who to destroy.