From Ashes: A Second Chance

I had loved my fiancé, Dominic Watts, since we were children. Our marriage was supposed to be the perfect seal on a merger between our two family empires.

In my last life, he stood outside my burning art studio with my stepsister, Julia, and watched me die.

I screamed for him, the smoke choking me, my skin searing from the heat. "Dominic, please! Help me!"

Julia clung to his arm, her face a picture of false terror. "It's too dangerous! You'll get hurt! We have to go!"

And he listened. He looked at me one last time, his eyes filled with a pity that cut deeper than any flame, and then he turned and ran, leaving me to burn.

Until I died, I didn't understand. The boy who promised to always protect me had just watched me burn to death. My unconditional love was the price I paid so he could be with my sister.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my bedroom. In one hour, I was due at the family board meeting. This time, I walked straight to the head of the table and said, "I am breaking the engagement."

Chapter 1

The heavy oak door of the Ortega family boardroom swung open with a force that made the crystal glasses on the mahogany table tremble.

Hazel Ortega stood in the doorway. Her face was pale, devoid of makeup, and her eyes, usually warm and gentle, were as cold and hard as chips of ice.

She walked straight to the head of the table, where her father sat, his face a mask of confusion.

"I want to break the engagement."

Her voice was flat, without a trace of emotion. It cut through the quiet hum of conversation about the upcoming merger between Ortega Corp and the Watts empire.

Her father, Richard Ortega, stared at her. "Hazel, what are you talking about? Don' t be ridiculous. Dominic will be here any minute."

"I am not being ridiculous," she said, her gaze sweeping over the assembled family members. "I will not marry Dominic Watts."

"This isn' t just about you, Hazel," her father said, his voice rising. "This is about a merger that has been in the works for a decade. It' s about the future of this family."

That life had ended the moment she confronted him and her stepsister about their affair. The confrontation had turned ugly, and in the chaos, a fire had started in her art studio.

The last thing she remembered was the searing pain as he left her to burn, and then... a black, silent void. Until she'd woken up with a gasp in her own bed this morning, the sun shining, the birds singing, and the calendar showing a date from two years ago. It wasn't a dream. It was a second chance.

She remembered the fire. The acrid smoke filling her lungs, the searing heat on her skin. She remembered screaming for Dominic, her fiancé, the man she had loved since she was a child.

He had been there. He had stood outside the door of her art studio, his face illuminated by the flames. And with him was Julia, her stepsister.

"Dominic, please! Help me!" she had screamed, her voice raw.

Julia had clung to his arm, her face a picture of false terror. "Dominic, it' s too dangerous! You' ll get hurt! We have to go!"

And he had listened. He had looked at Hazel one last time, his eyes filled with a pity that cut deeper than any flame, and then he turned and ran, leaving her to die.

The memory was so vivid it made her stomach churn. That was the price of her gentle nature. That was the reward for her unconditional love.

"He doesn' t love me," Hazel said, her voice still unnervingly calm. "He' s in love with Julia."

A gasp came from across the table.

Julia Norman, her stepsister, looked up, her wide, innocent eyes filling with tears. "Hazel, how can you say such a thing? Dominic adores you. I... I' m just your sister."

"Don' t you dare call yourself my sister," Hazel snapped, her voice finally cracking with a sliver of fury.

"Hazel, that' s enough!" Richard Ortega slammed his hand on the table.

Julia started to sob quietly, a delicate, heartbreaking sound that always worked on the men in this family. "Dominic has been so worried about you since your accident. He' s been calling every hour. He stayed up all night just to find that limited-edition pigment you wanted for your new painting."

Hazel almost laughed. The pigment. Yes, he had found it for her.

He had also found a rare diamond for Julia.

"He gave you the pigment, didn' t he?" Hazel' s eyes locked onto Julia' s. "And what did he give you?"

Julia looked confused. "I... I don' t know what you mean."

Hazel reached into the pocket of her simple black dress and pulled out a small, velvet box. She tossed it onto the table. It slid across the polished wood and stopped in front of her father.

He opened it. Inside was a necklace, a delicate silver chain with a teardrop-shaped sapphire.

"Dominic gave that to me last month for our anniversary," Hazel explained to the room.

Then, she pulled out her phone and threw it on the table next to the box. The screen was lit up, showing a photo.

It was a picture of Dominic and Julia. They were on a yacht, the sun setting behind them. Dominic' s arms were around Julia, and he was kissing her neck. Around Julia' s neck was a necklace.

It was a delicate silver chain with a teardrop-shaped sapphire.

It was identical to the one in the box.

"He told me it was a one-of-a-kind piece, designed just for me," Hazel said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "He lied."

She picked up the box. "This one cost him two hundred dollars at a department store. I checked. The one Julia is wearing in that picture? It' s from Cartier. It cost him two hundred thousand dollars."

She let the cheap necklace fall from her fingers, clattering onto the table. It looked pathetic and small.

She remembered how she had treasured it. How she had worn it every day, thinking it was a symbol of his unique love for her. The realization of its cheapness, its fraudulence, was a bitter pill.

Just then, the door opened again.

Dominic Watts rushed in, his hair slightly messy, his tie loosened. He looked like he had run all the way here.

"Hazel, baby, I' m so sorry I' m late. I was..." He stopped when he saw the atmosphere in the room. He saw the photos on the phone, the necklace on the table, the look on Hazel' s face.

"Hazel, this isn' t what it looks like," he said, his voice pleading. "Let me explain."

"Explain what?" Hazel asked. "Explain which necklace is the real one?"

Before he could answer, Julia let out a soft cry. She swayed on her feet, one hand pressed to her forehead.

"I feel... dizzy," she whispered.

Instantly, Dominic' s attention snapped from Hazel to Julia. The panic on his face was real now, but it was all for his other woman.

"Julia!" He rushed to her side, catching her as she sagged. "Are you okay? What' s wrong?"

He held her with a frantic tenderness that he hadn' t shown Hazel in years. He didn' t even glance back at his fiancée, the woman he was supposed to marry, the woman he had left to burn.

Watching them, the last embers of love in Hazel' s heart turned to cold, hard ash. This was it. This was the proof, right here in front of everyone.

Her decision was not just right; it was necessary for her survival.

"There," Hazel said, her voice ringing with finality. "You see? He' s made his choice."

She looked at her father, whose face was a mixture of shock and dawning horror.

"I am breaking the engagement," she repeated. "If the Watts family needs an Ortega bride to seal the merger, let them have Julia. She seems more than willing to take my place."

Richard Ortega looked from his daughter' s resolute face to the spectacle of Dominic fussing over Julia. He looked lost.

"Hazel... let' s not be hasty," he stammered. "Everyone just... needs to calm down."

"Give them a week," her stepmother, Julia' s mother, suggested smoothly. "A cooling-off period. Hazel is just emotional. She' ll come to her senses."

A week. They were giving her a week to forget being burned alive. A week to accept being replaced by a cheap imitation.

Fine. A week would be more than enough time.

The "cooling-off period" was anything but. It was a siege.

Hazel locked herself in her room, but Dominic was relentless. He camped outside her door for hours, his voice a low, pleading murmur.

"Hazel, please. Just talk to me."

He sent gifts. Bouquets of lilies, her favorite flower. Boxes of expensive chocolates she no longer had the stomach for. A first-edition book of poetry he knew she loved. Each gift was a carefully chosen memory, a weapon designed to soften her resolve.

On the third day, he slid a note under her door.

I know you' re angry. You have every right to be. But Julia... she' s fragile. Her mother died when she was young, and your father was always busy. I just felt like I had to look out for her. She' s like a sister to me. That' s all it is. I swear.

Hazel read the note and felt a cold knot of disgust in her stomach. Fragile Julia. The girl who had smiled as Hazel' s studio burned.

Remember when we were ten? another note read. You fell out of the big oak tree in your backyard and broke your arm. I carried you all the way home. I told you then I' d always protect you.

Yes, she remembered. It was a beautiful memory, one she had cherished. The feeling of his small, determined arms around her, his face streaked with dirt and tears as he promised to never let anything hurt her.

That memory was real. The boy who made that promise was real.

But he was gone. He had been replaced by the man who stood by and watched her die. The man who chose his affair over her life.

The past was a beautiful, poisoned well. Drinking from it now would only kill her again.

She knew something he didn' t. In her past life, just a few weeks after the fire, Julia had announced her pregnancy. The child was Dominic' s. The "fragile" stepsister had been carrying his heir while he was still engaged to Hazel.

The thought made her hands clench. The timeline was seared into her brain. Julia was pregnant right now.

"Hazel, I love you," he called through the door, his voice thick with emotion. "I swear on my life, it' s always been you. It will always be you. I' ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you."

His words were a hollow echo. She finally pulled the door open.

Dominic was standing there, his handsome face etched with exhaustion and hope. He held a single, perfect white rose. A symbol of purity. The irony was suffocating.

She didn' t take the rose. Instead, her eyes drifted to his collar.

"You' ve been with her," she stated, her voice flat.

He looked confused. "What? No, I' ve been right here."

"You smell of her," Hazel said, stepping closer. She didn' t need to. The cloying scent of Julia' s jasmine perfume was all over him. "And you have a lipstick stain on your collar. Her shade. 'Rose Petal Pink.' "

Dominic' s hand flew to his neck. He scrubbed at the faint pink mark, his face flushing with guilt and panic.

"It' s not... She was just upset, I was calming her down..."

Hazel just stared at him, her silence more damning than any accusation.

The next few days, the gifts became more extravagant. A diamond bracelet. A new car. Tickets to Paris. Hazel left them all untouched in the hallway outside her room, a monument to his desperate, clumsy attempts at bribery.

Finally, she let him in. He looked relieved, a hopeful smile touching his lips.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her hands folded in her lap. "You said you would spend the rest of your life making it up to me."

"Yes," he said eagerly, stepping towards her. "Anything, Hazel. I' ll do anything."

"Anything?" she repeated, her voice soft but laced with steel.

"I swear it."

She looked him directly in the eye. "Fine. I' ll consider staying engaged to you. On one condition."

He practically sagged with relief. "Name it. It' s yours."

"I want you to send Julia away," she said.

His smile vanished. "What?"

"Send her away," Hazel repeated, her voice hardening. "To another country. I want her gone. I never want to see her or hear her name again. I want you to cut off all contact with her. Block her number. Erase her from your life. Completely."

Dominic stared at her, his expression turning to one of distress. "Hazel, I can' t do that. She' s... she has no one. She' s so delicate. Where would she go?"

Hazel stood up. "I see. So your promise of 'anything' has its limits."

She walked towards the door. "Then we have nothing more to talk about."

"Wait!" he grabbed her arm, his grip tight with panic. "Okay! Okay, I' ll do it."

He looked into her eyes, his own wide and earnest. "I' ll send her away. I promise. I swear on my life, Hazel. I will get rid of her. For you."

He pulled her into his arms, but she remained stiff and cold. She didn' t believe him. Not for a second. But she had the promise she needed.

Dominic agreed to her terms with a desperate eagerness that was almost pathetic.

"I' ll do it, Hazel. I' ll arrange for her to study abroad. A new life, a fresh start. She' ll be gone by the end of the month," he promised, his voice earnest.

For the next week, he was the perfect, repentant fiancé. He brought her breakfast in bed, took her on quiet drives along the coast, and sat with her in her studio while she sketched, never pushing, never demanding.

To the outside world, it looked like a reconciliation. Her father was relieved. Her stepmother praised Dominic' s devotion. "See?" she' d said to Hazel with a smug smile. "He loves you. It was all just a silly misunderstanding."

Hazel knew better. She watched him, her heart a cold, still stone in her chest. She saw the way his eyes would flicker to his phone every few minutes. She noticed the gifts he brought her-a silk scarf in a shade of blue that Julia loved, a novel by an author Julia always talked about. He was trying to please Hazel with things that would please her rival. The man was a fool.

The charade ended on a Tuesday afternoon.

Hazel was in her studio, cleaning her brushes, when the door crashed open. Dominic stood there, his face a thunderous mask of rage. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving.

"What did you do?" he snarled, stalking towards her.

Hazel calmly placed her brush in the jar of turpentine. "I have no idea what you' re talking about."

"Don' t lie to me!" he roared, his voice echoing in the large, airy space. "Julia! What did you say to her?"

He grabbed her by the shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin. "She' s in the hospital, Hazel! She tried to kill herself! She took a bottle of pills!"

The words hung in the air between them. Julia tried to kill herself. The same tired, manipulative trick.

Hazel felt nothing. No shock, no pity. Just a profound, weary emptiness.

"She' s dying, Hazel," Dominic' s voice cracked, his rage giving way to a raw, broken sound. "And it' s your fault. You and your vicious, cruel demands. You pushed her to this."

Hazel looked up at him, at the man she once loved, his face contorted with grief for another woman. "Is that so?"

His eyes, filled with unshed tears, blazed with hatred. "How can you be so cold? She' s your sister! Don' t you have a heart? Are you even human?"

He was accusing her of being heartless while he was the one who had left her to burn. The hypocrisy was breathtaking.

"So what are you going to do?" Hazel asked, her voice a detached, clinical whisper. "Are you going to punish me?"

"Punish you?" he laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "That' s not enough. You' re going to atone. You will go to her, you will get on your knees, and you will beg for her forgiveness."

He wasn' t finished. His grip tightened, his face inches from hers.

"And you will keep begging, every day, for the rest of your life. You will be her servant. You will do whatever she asks. That is the price for her pain."

A sharp, unexpected pain lanced through Hazel' s chest. It was a phantom ache, a ghost of the love she used to feel. Why? Why, after everything, did his words still have the power to hurt her? She had died. She had been reborn. This pain should have been burned out of her.

She felt a wave of dizziness, her vision blurring at the edges. She couldn' t find the words to defend herself. What was the point? He wouldn' t believe her anyway.

"You trust her that much?" she managed to whisper, the words tasting like ash. "You believe everything she says?"

"Yes," he said without a second of hesitation, his voice ringing with absolute conviction. "Julia is pure. She is innocent. She would never lie. Not like you."

He seemed to catch himself then, a flicker of something-maybe awareness of his own cruelty-flashing in his eyes. He loosened his grip slightly. "Hazel, I..."

But it was too late.

A bitter, broken laugh bubbled up from Hazel' s chest. It started as a tremor and grew into a full-blown, tear-streaked peal of laughter. The sound was wild and unhinged. It was the sound of a heart breaking for the second and final time.

The room started to spin. The colors of her paintings on the wall blurred into a meaningless swirl. The last thing she saw was Dominic' s face, his rage replaced by a sudden, dawning panic.

Then, the world went black.