Reborn From Fire: The Ex-wife's Revenge

The pain tore through Heidi's abdomen like a serrated blade.

She gripped the sterile white hospital bedsheets. Her knuckles turned a translucent white. Her fingernails bit so hard into her own palms that the skin broke, but the physical sting was nothing compared to the violent contractions ripping her body apart.

The heart monitor next to the bed emitted a frantic, high-pitched beeping. Her heart rate was spiking into the red zone.

Heidi forced her eyes open. Her vision blurred with cold sweat. She reached a trembling hand toward Nurse Laura, who stood completely still at the foot of the bed.

"Please," Heidi gasped, her throat raw. "The epidural. I need it."

Laura took a slow step back. Her face was a mask of cold indifference.

"Dr. Mercer hasn't given the order, Mrs. Page."

Another contraction hit. Heidi curled into a tight ball, a choked scream escaping her cracked lips. Her stomach muscles seized violently. She couldn't breathe. The air in the VIP delivery room felt thick, smelling of bleach and metallic blood.

Then, the heavy oak door pushed open.

The harsh, fluorescent light from the hallway spilled into the dim room.

Brigette walked in.

She wasn't wearing scrubs. She was wearing a custom Vera Wang wedding dress. The heavy silk and intricate lace dragged across the sterile linoleum floor, making a soft, sickening rustle. She stepped forward in five-inch stilettos, the sound echoing like gunshots in the quiet room.

Heidi's blurry eyes locked onto the fabric. Her breath hitched.

It was her design. The exact dress she had spent six months sketching in secret, hiding the pages because Christian always dismissed her art as the foolish doodles of a gold digger. She had poured her soul into that design for her own vow renewal, the one she never got to wear.

Brigette stopped beside the bed. She looked down at Heidi's sweat-drenched, agonizing form. A slow, mocking smirk twisted her red lips. She ran a perfectly manicured hand over the lace bodice.

"Why..." Heidi choked out, her chest heaving. "Why are you wearing that?"

Brigette reached out. Her cold fingers pinched Heidi's pale chin, forcing her to look up.

"Christian sent it to me this morning," Brigette whispered, her voice dripping with fake pity. "An engagement gift. He wanted to make sure it fit before the funeral."

Heidi's stomach dropped to the floor. A wave of nausea hit her so hard she gagged. The physical pain of labor was instantly swallowed by a massive, suffocating despair. Her lungs refused to take in oxygen.

The door swung open again. Dr. Helen Mercer walked in.

The doctor didn't even glance at Brigette in the wedding dress. She walked straight to the monitors.

"Fetal heart rate is dropping dangerously low," Dr. Mercer announced, her voice entirely devoid of emotion. "We have to make a decision now."

Brigette reached into her limited-edition Birkin bag. She pulled out her phone. The screen was already lit up with an active call. She pressed the speaker button and held it close to Heidi's face.

"Christian?" Brigette said sweetly.

"Report."

The single word filled the room. It was Christian Page's signature baritone voice. Ice-cold. Monotone. Completely empty of any warmth.

Tears spilled hot and fast down Heidi's cheeks. She thrashed against the bed.

"Christian!" Heidi screamed, her voice tearing her vocal cords. "Christian, please! Help me!"

Silence hung on the line for exactly one second.

"Doctor," Christian's voice cut through the speaker, ignoring Heidi entirely. "What is the situation?"

Dr. Mercer leaned toward the phone. "If we force a natural delivery now, the mother's body will give out. We can only guarantee the survival of either the mother or the children."

Heidi stopped breathing. Her chest froze. She stared at the glowing screen of the phone, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She waited for the man who had promised to love her forever to save her.

"Prioritize the Page heirs," Christian ordered. He didn't hesitate. "Let her die."

The words sliced through Heidi's chest, severing the last string of hope she had left. Her body went entirely numb. The man she loved had just signed her death warrant over the phone.

Brigette smiled brightly. She ended the call. She shoved the phone screen into Heidi's face, forcing her to look at the call log. Christian Page. 02:45.

A raw, guttural scream ripped from Heidi's throat. Pure, blinding hatred flooded her veins. She lunged forward, her bloody fingers clawing desperately at the lace of Brigette's dress. She wanted to rip it to shreds.

Nurse Laura slammed Heidi's shoulders back down onto the mattress. She strapped the heavy leather restraints over Heidi's wrists.

"Prepare the induction drugs," Dr. Mercer said coldly.

Heidi thrashed, the leather cutting deep into her skin. She watched as Laura pushed a syringe into her IV line.

Ice-cold liquid shot up Heidi's arm. Her vision immediately began to tunnel. The edges of the room turned black.

She stared at Brigette's laughing face. She burned the texture of that lace into her retinas.

If I survive this night, Heidi swore to herself in the dark, I will make the Page family bleed. I will tear your lives apart piece by piece.

The heart monitor let out a single, piercing, continuous beep.

Heidi's eyes rolled back. The flatline echoed in the room as her world went completely black.

A bucket of freezing water hit Heidi's face.

She gasped, her eyes snapping open. Her lungs burned as she sucked in the foul air. The heavy stench of gasoline and rotting mold filled her nose.

She was lying on a freezing concrete floor. Dust coated her skin. A violent, tearing pain ripped through her lower abdomen, making her curl inward.

Brigette stood a few feet away. In her arms, she held two screaming newborns. A boy and a girl.

Heidi tried to push herself up. Rough nylon rope bit into her wrists. She was tied securely to a rusted iron pillar.

Brigette looked down at her with absolute disgust.

"You are like a cockroach," Brigette sneered. "I can't believe you actually birthed them in the back of the transport van."

"Give them to me," Heidi rasped. Her throat felt like sandpaper. "Leo. Luna. They are mine."

Brigette laughed. She turned and handed the two crying infants to a massive bodyguard wearing a black ski mask.

Brigette walked up to Heidi. She crouched down. Her sharp acrylic nail dug into Heidi's cheek, slicing a thin line down to her jaw. Warm blood trickled down Heidi's neck.

"They are my children now," Brigette whispered.

The bodyguard picked up a red plastic jug. He started walking in a circle around the iron pillar, pouring the pungent gasoline over the concrete. The liquid splashed onto Heidi's bare legs.

Heidi pulled frantically at the ropes. The friction tore the skin off her wrists. Blood dripped onto the floor. The iron pillar didn't move an inch.

Brigette pulled a thick Cuban cigar from her pocket. She lit it, took a long drag, and smiled.

She flicked the glowing cigar directly into the puddle of gasoline.

Whoosh.

A wall of blue and orange flames erupted instantly. The heat hit Heidi's face like a physical blow. The fire formed a perfect, deadly circle around her.

Brigette turned her back. She walked out the heavy metal doors of the warehouse with the bodyguard and the babies. The heavy deadbolt slammed shut from the outside.

The temperature skyrocketed. Heidi's skin began to blister. Thick, black smoke poured into her lungs. She coughed violently, her chest heaving.

She was going to burn alive.

Suddenly, a contraction hit her so hard her spine bowed against the iron pillar.

Heidi's eyes widened in sheer horror. The pain wasn't over. The pressure in her pelvis was unbearable.

Her body convulsed, a primal, undeniable pressure bearing down on her pelvis. It didn't matter what the incompetent doctors had told her four years ago about twins. Her body knew the terrifying truth. There was another life fighting to escape the inferno.

Survival instinct hijacked her brain. The heat was melting the soles of her hospital socks. Heidi bit down on her own lip until she tasted copper. She let out a blood-curdling scream and pushed.

The induction drugs from the hospital were still ravaging her system. Combined with the extreme adrenaline, her body forced the process.

A third baby slid out onto her blood-soaked hospital gown.

Heidi's hands shook violently. She reached down, her fingers brushing against a sharp piece of broken glass on the concrete. She grabbed it. She didn't hesitate. She sawed through the umbilical cord.

A minute later, another agonizing push tore her open. The fourth baby arrived.

Their weak, tiny cries were completely drowned out by the deafening roar of the wooden roof beams catching fire above her.

Heidi pulled the two tiny, slippery bodies to her chest. She curled her body over them, using her own back as a human shield against the falling embers. Searing pain lashed across her shoulder blades as sparks burned into her flesh.

The smoke was too thick. She couldn't breathe. Her vision faded to black. The only thing keeping her conscious was the tiny, rapid heartbeats fluttering against her chest.

CRASH.

The glass skylight above shattered into a million pieces. A massive gust of wind hit the warehouse floor, blowing the smoke outward.

A military-grade, unmarked black helicopter hovered directly above the hole. A blinding spotlight pierced the smoke, locking onto Heidi's curled body.

Two men in full tactical gear rappelled down the ropes. They landed perfectly inside the ring of fire.

One man whipped out a tactical knife. He sliced through the thick nylon ropes binding Heidi's wrists in one fluid motion.

The second man threw a heavy, silver fire blanket over Heidi and the two babies. He secured a heavy carabiner to her waist.

The winch engaged. Heidi felt her feet leave the ground.

In the final second before she completely lost consciousness, she felt the cool night air hit her face as she was pulled up into the dark sky.

Inside the helicopter cabin, a man in a bespoke suit caught her. Iain Mcdaniel looked down at his sister's severely burned face. His jaw clenched tight. His fists shook with pure rage.

The helicopter banked hard and sped into the New York night.

Below them, the Brooklyn warehouse collapsed in a massive, fiery explosion, leaving nothing but ash.

The Gulfstream G650 touched down smoothly on the private runway at JFK Airport. The roar of the engines slowly died down.

The cabin door opened.

Heidi stepped onto the stairs. The crisp autumn wind of New York whipped her long, dark, wavy hair back. She wore a custom-tailored, deep-V black trench coat and red-bottom stilettos.

She raised her chin. Her face was entirely different. Four years of agonizing reconstructive surgeries had erased the soft, timid girl she used to be. Now, her features were sharp, cold, and breathtakingly striking.

Four-year-old Caleb walked calmly by her left side. He wore a miniature tailored suit. He pushed his blue-light blocking glasses up his nose, his eyes scanning the tarmac with unnatural calculation.

On her right, four-year-old Seraphina bounced on her heels. She wore a fluffy pink dress and clutched a worn stuffed bunny to her chest.

Heidi gripped their small hands. She walked into the VIP arrivals terminal. Her presence immediately drew the stares of the few wealthy travelers scattered around the lounge.

Suddenly, a rapid burst of camera flashes erupted from the right corridor.

Heidi stopped. Her eyes darted toward the noise behind her dark sunglasses.

Surrounded by a dozen men in black suits, Christian Page walked into view.

He wore a charcoal gray suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. Four years had made his jawline sharper, his presence even more suffocatingly cold.

Brigette tried to cling to his arm, but he subtly kept a formal distance, allowing her only to lightly touch his elbow. She wore the latest Chanel tweed jacket, flashing a practiced, elegant smile at the paparazzi.

Heidi's hands shoved into her trench coat pockets. Her fists clenched so hard her nails dug crescent moons into her palms. Her blood boiled.

Caleb felt the sudden, rigid tension in his mother's arm. He tilted his head, his sharp eyes locking onto the crowd.

Seraphina stopped bouncing. Her large eyes fixed on Christian. She tilted her head.

"Mommy," Seraphina whispered, her voice soft. "That man looks really sad inside."

Heidi took a sharp breath. She forced her muscles to relax. "Don't stare, kids. Keep walking."

A gossip reporter shoved a microphone past the security line. "Mr. Page! When is the official wedding date with Miss Rutledge?"

Christian's footsteps stopped. A flash of pure disgust crossed his eyes. He glared at the reporter.

Brigette immediately pressed her chest against his arm. "We are currently planning the details," she answered sweetly.

Christian didn't say a word. He violently yanked his arm out of Brigette's grasp. He didn't care about the cameras. He didn't care about her frozen, humiliated expression.

Heidi watched from a distance. A cold smirk touched her lips. Trouble in paradise.

Christian turned to walk away. But then, he stopped.

His body went rigid. He snapped his head toward the VIP exit.

Across thirty feet of bustling terminal, his eyes locked directly onto Heidi.

Heidi's heart skipped a beat. Her breath caught in her throat. But she didn't look away. She lifted her chin higher, staring right back at him through the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

Christian's dark brows pulled together. He stared at the tall, cold woman in the black coat. His chest tightened. A bizarre, suffocating wave of familiarity slammed into his ribs.

Brigette followed his gaze. She only saw a wealthy woman with two kids. "Christian? The car is waiting."

His assistant leaned in. "Sir, the board meeting is in an hour."

Christian broke the eye contact. He swallowed hard, pushing down the sudden ache in his chest. He turned and walked through the sliding glass doors.

Heidi watched the black Page family motorcade pull away from the curb. She slowly took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were like arctic ice.

The Mcdaniel family butler stepped forward and bowed. "Welcome back, Miss. The Manhattan penthouse is ready."

Heidi put her sunglasses back on. She squeezed her children's hands.

"The game starts now," she said coldly. "Let's go home."