His Cruelty, Her Rebirth

I died once, charred by the flames that consumed me in a house set ablaze by the man who vowed to destroy me. On his 23rd birthday, I was reborn back to a day they called the "blind pick," where 20 women vied for the chance to become Ethan Thompson' s wife.

In my past life, I drew the red card, believing it a fairytale beginning, only for Ethan to blame me when his true love, Scarlett, died in a car accident he barely remembered. He never believed me, never listened, his hatred burning hotter than any love we once shared.

He dragged me into our home, his eyes filled with terrifying darkness. "You took her from me," he whispered, tightening his hands around my throat. "Now I'll take everything from you." He beat me, doused the room in gasoline, and watched with twisted satisfaction as I burned, branded a murderer and unloved.

Reborn, I found Scarlett, the true manipulator, still alive, ready to claim Ethan' s love.

I avoided the red card that day, trying to escape a cursed fate Ethan, still the monster, forced me on my knees, made me watch him brutally murder my beloved dog, Sunny, and then cooked it for me to eat. He coerced me into donating my kidney to Scarlett, claiming I owed her, all while Scarlett and her mother, Maria, gloated about their deception, admitting they engineered every twisted event after my original death.

Why did they do this? How could Ethan be so blind, so cruel, after I saved his life?

But this time, I wouldn't be a victim. I signed the organ donation papers, but my escape was already in motion, orchestrated by my family and a forgotten friend.

The grand hall of the Thompson estate was filled with twenty young women, all dressed in elegant gowns, their faces a mixture of hope and anxiety. We were the potential brides for Ethan Thompson, the sole heir to the Thompson fortune, and today, on his twenty-third birthday, one of us would be chosen.

The selection was a cruel spectacle they called a "blind pick."

"In this box," Eleanor Thompson, Ethan' s mother, announced with a practiced smile, "are twenty cards. Nineteen are white. One is red. The woman who draws the red card will become my daughter-in-law."

Her voice was smooth, but her eyes were cold. It was a game of chance, a lottery for a life of unimaginable wealth and a loveless marriage.

I watched as the other women stepped forward, their hands trembling as they reached into the ornate box. My own heart was a block of ice in my chest.

I remembered this day. In my past life, my hand had been the one to pull out that scarlet card. I thought it was the beginning of a fairy tale.

It was the beginning of hell.

Ethan' s true love, Scarlett Hayes, died in a car accident just a month after our engagement. He was in the car with her, but he survived with a severe head injury and partial amnesia. When he woke up, he remembered loving Scarlett, and he was convinced I had orchestrated the crash to get her out of the way.

He never believed me. He never listened. The love we once shared as children, long before Scarlett, vanished. It was replaced by a burning hatred that consumed him.

On our wedding day, he didn't kiss me. He dragged me into our new home, his eyes filled with a terrifying darkness.

"You took her from me," he had whispered, his hands tightening around my throat. "Now I'll take everything from you."

He beat me until I could no longer stand. Then he doused the room in gasoline. The last thing I saw was his silhouette against the rising flames, his face twisted with a sick satisfaction. The fire ate my skin, the smoke filled my lungs, and I died a slow, agonizing death, branded a murderer and unloved.

But I didn't stay dead.

I opened my eyes, and I was back here, in this suffocatingly grand hall, on the day of the blind pick. The air still smelled of roses and champagne, not smoke and ash. I was alive. I had a second chance.

Not a second chance at his love. A second chance to live.

"Chloe Miller, it's your turn," Eleanor Thompson called out, her voice impatient.

All eyes turned to me. I saw Scarlett standing near the front, her hands clasped together, a picture of nervous innocence. Her eyes, however, held a flicker of cunning ambition. She was the one who had manipulated Ethan' s grief, feeding his paranoia until it became an obsession.

I walked towards the box, my steps steady. I didn't even glance at Ethan, who was watching from his seat, his expression bored and indifferent. To him, we were all just cattle at an auction.

In my last life, my hand had gone to the right side of the box. I knew exactly where the red card was.

This time, I reached to the left and pulled out a plain white card. I held it up for everyone to see, my face a mask of calm.

A collective sigh of disappointment and relief rippled through the room.

I turned and walked back to my spot, my head held high. I could feel Ethan' s gaze on me, a brief flash of surprise in his eyes before he looked away.

It was Scarlett's turn next. She was the last one.

She walked forward, her movements delicate and hesitant. She looked at Ethan, her eyes welling with unshed tears, as if this whole process was a terrible burden for her fragile heart.

She reached into the box. Her hand went directly to the right side.

When she pulled her hand out, the red card was clutched between her fingers.

A gasp went through the crowd. Scarlett covered her mouth, her eyes wide with feigned shock. Then she looked at Ethan, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across her lips.

The guests began to whisper.

"Chloe Miller missed her chance. She was always so close to Ethan as a kid."

"Maybe she knew she wasn't good enough. Look at her, she doesn't even seem sad."

"Scarlett is the one who saved Ethan from that car wreck. She deserves it."

I ignored them. The pity and scorn of these people meant nothing to me. In my past life, I had craved their approval, their acceptance. I had loved Ethan with a desperation that had blinded me to his cruelty. Now, I felt nothing but a hollow echo of that pain.

Ethan stood up. He walked over to Scarlett, his eyes shining with an emotion I once thought was reserved for me.

"Scarlett," he said, his voice loud and clear. "You saved my life. It was always meant to be you."

He took her hand and kissed it, a grand gesture for the audience. Scarlett blushed, leaning into him.

His father, the stern Mr. Thompson, looked at me with a flicker of regret. "The choice has been made," he declared, his voice booming. "We will honor the result."

I remembered the words Ethan had spit at me in our past life, after he woke up from his coma.

"You're disgusting, Chloe. Every time I look at you, I wish it was you who died in that crash, not her."

He had forgotten everything. He had forgotten the promises he made to me under the old oak tree in our childhood, that he would marry me and only me. He had forgotten that he once called me his light, his reason for living. The amnesia had wiped the slate clean, and Scarlett and his mother had been there to write a new story, a story where I was the villain.

His revenge wasn't just for Scarlett. It was for the fragments of memory he couldn' t place, the unsettling feeling that something was wrong, a feeling he was told was guilt over being with me instead of his 'true love.'

This time, I wouldn't be part of his story.

I slipped out of the hall while they were celebrating. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in years.

"Liam?" I said, my voice steady. "It's Chloe. I'm ready to leave. I need your help."

As I was heading for the exit, a figure suddenly stepped into my path. I didn't have time to stop. I stumbled, my ankle twisting painfully as I fell to the hard marble floor. A sharp pain shot up my leg.

"Oh, Chloe! I' m so sorry!"

It was Scarlett. She knelt beside me, her voice dripping with fake concern. She reached out to help me up, but her hand pressed down hard on my injured ankle. I bit back a cry of pain.

"I was just so excited, I wasn' t looking where I was going," she said, her eyes wide and apologetic. But I could see the glint of malice in them.

"Get your hands off me." My voice was low and cold.

Just then, a pair of expensive leather shoes stopped in front of us.

"What' s going on here?" Ethan' s voice was sharp, cutting through the air.

He saw Scarlett on the floor, her face pale and her eyes filled with tears. He saw me, sitting there, glaring at her. His conclusion was immediate and predictable.

"Chloe, what did you do?" he demanded, his tone accusatory.

Scarlett immediately started defending me, which only made me look guiltier. "It' s not her fault, Ethan. It was an accident. I bumped into her."

"An accident? Or did you push her because you' re jealous?" Ethan' s eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on me. He completely ignored my twisted ankle, the pain that was making me see spots.

"I didn' t touch her," I said, my voice flat.

Scarlett sobbed, a delicate, heart-wrenching sound. "Ethan, please don' t be angry with her. She' s just upset. I' m the one who got the red card. It' s my fault." She was a master manipulator, playing the victim to perfection.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Ethan said softly to her, helping her to her feet with a gentleness he had never shown me, not even in our past life. He then turned to me, his face a mask of fury. "Apologize to her. Now."

"No."

The word hung in the air between us. His face darkened.

"You think because we grew up together you have some special privilege? You are nothing, Chloe. You lost. Now apologize."

"I have nothing to apologize for." I tried to stand, but the pain in my ankle was excruciating. I fell back to the floor.

Ethan' s patience snapped. "Fine. If you won' t learn your lesson, I' ll teach you." He motioned to two of his security guards standing nearby. "Take her to the storeroom in the north wing. Lock her in. She can stay there until she learns some humility."

The guards hesitated. The Miller family wasn't as powerful as the Thompsons, but we were not insignificant. Abducting me like this could have consequences.

"Did you not hear me?" Ethan' s voice was dangerously quiet. "Or do you want to find new jobs tomorrow?"

The threat worked. The guards moved towards me.

I didn' t fight them. There was no point. I let them pull me to my feet, my injured ankle screaming in protest. I didn't look at Ethan or Scarlett as they dragged me away.

They took me to a small, windowless room in a deserted part of the mansion. It was filled with old furniture covered in white sheets, smelling of dust and decay. The heavy oak door slammed shut, and I heard the lock click into place.

I was plunged into complete darkness.

The air was cold and thick. My claustrophobia, a fear I' d had since childhood, began to creep in. My breathing quickened. I slid down the wall to the floor, wrapping my arms around myself.

I remembered a time when I was six, and a game of hide-and-seek had gone wrong. I' d gotten trapped in a closet, and I had cried until my throat was raw. It was Ethan, just a boy himself, who had found me. He had opened the door, and the light had spilled in, chasing away the shadows.

He had held my hand and said, "Don' t be scared, Chloe. I' ll always find you. I' ll always be your light."

The memory was so vivid, so painful. He was the one who had taught me not to be afraid of the dark.

And now, he was the one who had thrown me back into it.

The pain in my ankle, the cold, and the suffocating darkness began to overwhelm me. My head felt light, and the room started to spin. I was so tired. The stress of the day, the flood of memories from my past life, it was all too much.

My consciousness began to fade.

Just as I was about to slip into unconsciousness, I thought I heard a sound. A faint, distant voice.

It was calling my name.

"Chloe."

It sounded so familiar. A warmth spread through me, a feeling of being cared for, a feeling I hadn't known in a very, very long time. Then, everything went black.