Reborn in Flames: The Chief's Reckoning

Reborn in Flames: The Chief's Reckoning

Gavin

5.0
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The emergency sirens wailed, another Diablo Wind fire ripping through our valley, just like the last time. As an elite smokejumper and daughter of a Cal Fire legend, I knew these fires. I also knew my husband, Fire Chief Caleb, was supposed to be leading the fight. But in my last life, Caleb's betrayal cost me everything; he left me to die in a blizzard after our baby was stillborn, all because he loved Chloe, his childhood friend, more. Now, reborn into this same nightmare, I knew the fire wasn't the only threat-Caleb was using it as a cover for his affair with Chloe, burning through vital resources while abandoning his post. When I tried to reach out for aid, Caleb convinced his loyal friend, Sheriff Brody, that I was having a psychotic break, framing me as the arsonist. Brody, blinded by Caleb's lies, prevented my escape, causing me to fall and tragically lose my unborn child. Our town was devastated, and Brody's deputies were lost, all while I was held captive, my pleas ignored. Why did Caleb consistently choose deception and destruction? How could a man sworn to protect his community, his family, be so utterly monstrous, and then twist the truth to blame me? The injustice of it all, compounded by the loss of my child, ignited a cold, hard rage inside me, dulling the grief. But then, my sister-in-law, Maya, discovered undeniable evidence from a trail cam: Chloe wasn't just Caleb's mistress, she was intimately connected to "Phoenix," the eco-terrorist who started the fire. Brody, witnessing the true villainy and the devastation his blind loyalty wrought, broke down, offering me his absolute allegiance. With my new purpose forged in tragedy, I knew exactly how I would use his guilt and his position to systematically dismantle Caleb's world, piece by agonizing piece.

Introduction

The emergency sirens wailed, another Diablo Wind fire ripping through our valley, just like the last time.

As an elite smokejumper and daughter of a Cal Fire legend, I knew these fires.

I also knew my husband, Fire Chief Caleb, was supposed to be leading the fight.

But in my last life, Caleb's betrayal cost me everything; he left me to die in a blizzard after our baby was stillborn, all because he loved Chloe, his childhood friend, more.

Now, reborn into this same nightmare, I knew the fire wasn't the only threat-Caleb was using it as a cover for his affair with Chloe, burning through vital resources while abandoning his post.

When I tried to reach out for aid, Caleb convinced his loyal friend, Sheriff Brody, that I was having a psychotic break, framing me as the arsonist.

Brody, blinded by Caleb's lies, prevented my escape, causing me to fall and tragically lose my unborn child.

Our town was devastated, and Brody's deputies were lost, all while I was held captive, my pleas ignored.

Why did Caleb consistently choose deception and destruction?

How could a man sworn to protect his community, his family, be so utterly monstrous, and then twist the truth to blame me?

The injustice of it all, compounded by the loss of my child, ignited a cold, hard rage inside me, dulling the grief.

But then, my sister-in-law, Maya, discovered undeniable evidence from a trail cam: Chloe wasn't just Caleb's mistress, she was intimately connected to "Phoenix," the eco-terrorist who started the fire.

Brody, witnessing the true villainy and the devastation his blind loyalty wrought, broke down, offering me his absolute allegiance.

With my new purpose forged in tragedy, I knew exactly how I would use his guilt and his position to systematically dismantle Caleb's world, piece by agonizing piece.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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4.3

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

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