Reborn From Ashes: Divorcing The Billionaire

I was tied to a concrete pillar in an abandoned warehouse, the heavy stench of gasoline suffocating me.

Ten steps away, a masked kidnapper slammed a loaded Glock onto a metal barrel and forced my husband, Alvie, to make a sick choice.

"The wife or the mistress. You only get to walk out of here with one."

Alvie didn't even blink.

He walked straight toward the dark corner where his mistress, Gail, was crying. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, shielding her, and guided her toward the exit.

He never looked back. He didn't cast a single glance over his shoulder. To him, I was already a corpse, just trash left on the pavement.

The kidnapper laughed and tossed a lighter onto the soaked concrete floor.

A wall of ghostly blue fire erupted instantly, swallowing me whole. The absolute agony of my skin blistering and melting shattered my sanity.

In my last moments, consumed by the inferno, I couldn't understand how the man I had loved and served so submissively could leave me to burn alive. My heartbreak quickly morphed into a hatred far deeper than the flames.

Then, I violently jerked awake.

I shot up from the bed, gasping for cold air, my hands frantically checking my perfectly smooth, unburned skin.

I looked at the desk clock. I had returned to exactly four years ago, the morning of the annual Gallagher family gathering.

The fragile, naive wife died in that warehouse. This time, I am going to destroy them both.