Chapter 2

Olivia

Pain. Heat. Fire.

My skin sears, peeling under the relentless heat. Smoke coils around me, thick and suffocating, pushing into my lungs and choking the air from my throat. My body jerks, thrashing wildly, desperate to escape the agony.

Two familiar figures stand there, just beyond the flames. Mocking me like demons enjoying my suffering.

“No, please don’t do this!”

My screams crack and splinter, raw with terror.

“No, pleas—”

"Hold still."

A deep, velvety voice cuts through the fog. A voice I know. It’s not the fire. It’s not hell.

My eyes flutter open, my breath coming in sharp, broken gasps. The brightness burns, too pure, too white. My pulse hammers wildly, my ribs tightening. This—this isn’t death. The light is too clean. There’s no fire, no suffocating smoke.

Then where am I?

“Open your mouth.” The command is firm, clipped, allowing no argument.

I obey on instinct. Something cool slips beneath my tongue—metal, smooth. A thermometer?

“You still have a fever,” the voice says again, calmer this time.

My heart stutters violently, my gaze darting around the unfamiliar room. The sterile scent of antiseptic lingers, mixing with the faint, warm musk of cologne. My stomach twists painfully. My breaths come too fast, too shallow.

Didn’t I die?

I force my eyes open again, blinking away the blurriness. My heart pounds, erratic and wild, as I take in the figure standing beside me.

Stormy gray eyes. Dark black suit. A scowl permanently etched onto his sharp features.

Sebastian.

A shiver racks through me, but it’s not from the fever.

“What… surprised to be alive?” His voice is cold, detached, like he’s discussing the weather. “I told you I wouldn’t let you die, so you shouldn’t have bothered with suicide. It’s pathetic. Do you really hate me so much? Tch.”

More tears sting my eyes before I can stop them. This… this feels like déjà vu.

No. Not déjà vu. This has definitely happened before.

Suicide.

Yes! Yes! I remember now—when I had tried to take my own life because Sebastian had locked me up, preventing me from attending a gala with Philip.

Have I been—

Blood rushes to my ears. My breaths come short and fast as a terrifying realization settles like ice in my gut.

Have I been reborn?

My fingers dig into the sheets, my mind spinning too fast, trying to grasp onto logic, onto anything that makes sense. But nothing does.

Sebastian’s voice drags me back. “What, you can’t speak now?”

I force my eyes up, locking onto his.

His stormy gray irises are bloodshot, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them. His usually sharp, pristine suit is wrinkled—from taking care of me?

My throat tightens, a lump forming so thick I can barely swallow.

Regret churns in my stomach, sickening and bitter. Tears burn behind my lids.

I did this to him.

He scowls deeper, his lips curling like he just tasted something foul. “Let me guess—you’re disappointed it’s me standing here instead of that bastard Philip. Must be torture for you.”

A glint of something—pain?—swims in his gaze before vanishing behind a cold mask.

But I saw it.

"Doesn’t matter. Go ahead, run to your beloved Philip. Mark will be by this afternoon—with the divorce papers you were so desperate for."

No.

No, I can’t let this happen!

If I really have been given a second chance, then this is it. This is the moment I change everything.

My body moves before I can think, my throat tight as panic surges through me. "Wait, I don't want a divorce!"

I blurt out, my voice hoarse, as if I really had just escaped hell—which, technically, I have.

My fingers stretch out, reaching for him, desperate to grasp onto something real. But I miss.

The world tilts as I lose my balance. My heart leaps in terror, bracing for the cold, hard impact of the floor—

But it never comes.

Cold, icy fingers clamp around my waist, yanking me forward. My body collides with something solid, strong. Warm.

Tears spring to my eyes as I look up at Sebastian, at his face—his perfect, unblemished face.

No scars.

No signs of the pain I had caused. No remnants of the monster I had turned him into.

I remember every confidential document I funneled to Philip, every stolen piece of intel I handed over without hesitation, convinced I was dismantling be a monster, a madman.

God.

My stomach twists violently. I ate every single lie my best friend and lover fed me, swallowing them whole like a fool—a blind, desperate fool.

My chest constricts with guilt so thick it’s suffocating. The weight of my own stupidity presses down on me, heavier than the fever, heavier than the past I can’t undo… until now.

“What did you just say?” Sebastian’s voice is hoarse, laced with something close to disbelief.

My lips part, my voice barely above a whisper. "Sebastian...I don’t want a divorce. Please, let’s not divorce, okay?"

For a moment—just a single, fleeting moment—silence stretches between us, thick with something I can’t name.

Then, he scoffs.

The sound is sharp, bitter, cutting through the fragile space in his heart I was reaching for.

A cold hand presses against my shoulder, pushing me back to the bed, forcing distance between us.

"What new trick is this?"

My breath hitches. My fingers clench around the sheets.

He doesn’t believe me.

Of course, he doesn’t.

Why would he?

He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before stepping closer.

His next words hit like a slap. “Did you know how I felt when I saw your wrists bleeding?”

I don’t flinch. I won’t flinch.

Because I see it now—the raw, gut-wrenching exhaustion lining his face. The silent plea in his bloodshot eyes.

He felt something.

He feels something.

For me.

"You slit both wrists, Olivia. And for what? That pathetic excuse of a man?!"

His voice cracks, just barely. But I hear it. Pain coils deep inside me, tight and suffocating.

Sebastian thinks I’m toying with him again. Just like I always did. Just like I was before.

But I’m not.

I’m not her anymore.

Tears slip free, hot and unrelenting. My hands fold together like a prayer—like a desperate, last-ditch plea for something I don’t deserve.

"Give me another chance, Seb," I whisper.

Sebastian stills.

His eyes flicker—confusion, hesitation. But just as quickly, the wall slams back into place.

A disbelieving laugh escapes him.

He shakes his head, something hollow in his expression.

"How can I believe you when you were willing to die just to make me divorce you?"