Chapter 1

When I was five months pregnant, Thomas's first love came to the house to provoke me and commit arson.

I immediately called Thomas for help. In the end, my child was saved, but Mickey died in the fire that day.

Thomas said he didn't blame me and told me to rest easy in the hospital until I gave birth.

But on the day I gave birth to our child, he burned me and the baby alive.

In my final moment, through the raging flames, I saw his vicious, twisted face.

"If you hadn't deliberately set that fire, Mickey would never have died!"

"You think you can fool me by pretending to be the victim? Dream on! You're going to pay for her life with yours!"

"You like setting fires, don't you? I'll let you experience it firsthand, feel every bit of Mickey's pain before she died!"

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the fire scene.

Thick smoke poured into my nostrils, choking me into violent coughs.

The pain instantly jolted me awake from my memories of my past life.

The first thing I did was pull out my phone, but this time I didn't dial my firefighter captain husband—I called 911 instead.

When the rescue team arrived, I spotted Thomas's familiar figure from afar.

Only after he carried Mickey out of the fire did I feel safe enough to call out for help from the other rescuers.

Those crew members thought I was making a fuss and scolded me coldly for a long time.

A wall decoration crashed down, slamming hard into my pregnant belly.

I coughed up blood on the spot, but they still acted as if they hadn't noticed.

Gritting my teeth through the excruciating pain, I used every ounce of strength to crawl out of the fire scene.

But all the cooling and emergency equipment was being used on Mickey.

Thomas didn't even bother to glance at me, only cursing that I got what I deserved.

The pain made me break out in cold sweat, blood spilling from my mouth. I could even feel my child's life rapidly slipping away.

In my past life, when the fire first started, both Mickey and I had called Thomas for help at the same time. But for the sake of the child, he chose to rescue me first.

By the time he returned to the fire scene, the blaze was out of control and he couldn't go back in to save anyone.

Mickey died in the flames on the spot, burned beyond recognition.

Thomas said it was okay and told me not to blame myself.

To comfort me, he even took time off to stay with me until I gave birth.

But on the day I delivered our child, he dragged me and the baby to Mickey's grave.

Right in front of me, he slit our child's throat with a knife.

Blood splattered across his face, making his eyes look even more bloodshot.

"Angel, do you know what it feels like to be burned alive? Mickey suffered through that pain, and I'm going to make you repay it ten times, a hundred times over!"

Later, just as he wished, I died in the flames with our child.

This time, reborn, I only wanted to escape far away.

I never expected he still wouldn't let me go—he wouldn't even spare the cooling and first aid equipment for me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw blood gushing from below. I wailed, using my hoarse voice to make one final plea for help.

"Save the baby... please..."

The crew member closest to me finally noticed and turned to look at me.

But his eyes were full of disdain and mockery. He kicked at me with his foot.

"Angel, stop acting. Everyone on our team knows you can't stand Mickey, right?"

"I can't believe you'd commit arson while pregnant. Thomas already went to save someone—no one's watching your performance anymore."

"Honestly, I kind of admire you. To do this kind of thing for a man."

"But it's a shame—Thomas only has eyes for Mickey. You better pray she's okay, or Thomas will divorce you in a heartbeat!"

I knew Thomas didn't love me, but I never imagined even his crew members saw me this way.

The violent contractions in my abdomen made it impossible for me to make another sound.

My scalding skin was peeling off in the high temperature.

All the crew members were busy putting out the fire. Not a single person asked about my condition.

As my consciousness faded, I heard someone nearby exclaim:

"Oh no! Why is there so much blood on the ground? This is bad—what if something really happened to Angel?"

"What could possibly happen? She just wants Thomas to look at her. She's been making a scene for ages. Whatever, just go call Thomas over and try."

But I didn't get Thomas's concern—only his ruthless interrogation.

His gloved hand slapped me hard twice across the face.

"Angel, wake up. Stop pretending. I'm here now."

"Is your brain broken? You set a fire and managed to burn yourself like this? Shooting yourself in the foot—is this fun for you?"

Even at this point, he still thought I set the fire. He still thought I was acting out of jealousy.

I wanted to explain, but my mouth was too dry to speak.

My stomach hurt terribly.

All I could do was reach out and grab his sleeve, hoping he would understand my plea for help.

But after hesitating for two seconds, he pressed down hard on my abdomen.

"Pretty convincing act. If Mickey hadn't told me you hid yourself after setting the fire, I might have actually believed you."

After leaving those words, he turned and left without hesitation.