Rising From The Ashes Of Betrayal

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Modern | Ongoing

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I spent my whole life trying to fit into the "Kensington aesthetic," dyeing my hair blonde and playing dumb just to earn a crumb of my father's approval. But when the manor went up in flames, I realized I was never a daughter to them-I was just an inconvenience. I lay pinned under a heavy oak beam, the smell of copper and burnt sugar filling my lungs. My father, Arthur, stood in the doorway with my brothers, looking like a phalanx of saviors, but their eyes weren't on me. They rushed past my outstretched, bloody hand to save my sister, Karly, who was huddled in a corner without a scratch on her. My brother Archer scooped her up like spun glass, stepping over my crushed leg without a second glance. Just before they crossed the threshold, Karly looked back at me and smiled-a small, victorious, terrifying smile. My father didn't offer help; he just shouted that I was an arsonist and slammed the door, sentencing me to burn alive in my own bedroom. As the crystal chandelier melted and crashed toward me, I didn't feel fear anymore. I felt a guttural, distilled hate for the family that left me to die because of a lie. I had spent my life begging for scraps at a table that was never meant for me, and I died realizing they never loved me at all. "If I come back," I promised into the void, "I will burn you all down." I gasped for air and woke up in my bed, the smell of lavender replacing the smoke. It was September 14th, five years before the fire, the exact week I had started ruining myself to please them. I looked in the mirror, scrubbed off the pathetic makeup mask, and realized the old, desperate Kala was dead. If I was going to burn, I'd make sure they were the ones who felt the heat first. "Queen is back online," I whispered.

Revenge Rebirth/Reborn Hidden identities Comeback Revenge

Chapter 10 10

Today 14:34

Chapter 1 1

The air tasted like copper and burnt sugar. It was a thick, suffocating blanket that pressed down on Kala's chest, refusing to let her lungs expand. She coughed, a violent, hacking spasm that tore at her throat, but the sound was swallowed by the roar of the fire.

She tried to move, to roll off the mattress that was rapidly becoming a pyre, but her body refused to obey. A heavy weight pinned her left leg to the floor. Through the stinging haze of gray smoke, she saw the outline of the oak beam from the ceiling. It had snapped like a twig, trapping her against the hardwood floor.

Pain wasn't immediate. It was a delayed signal, a dull throb that suddenly sharpened into a white-hot lance shooting up her thigh. She opened her mouth to scream, but the smoke stole her voice, turning it into a rasping whimper.

The silk curtains-the ones her mother, Doloris, had picked out because they matched the "Kensington aesthetic"-were gone. In their place were tongues of orange and blue flame, licking the plaster walls, curling toward the bed where she lay pinned. The heat was a physical blow, slapping her skin, drying the tears before they could even track down her soot-stained cheeks.

Footsteps.

They were heavy, frantic thuds vibrating through the floorboards. Hope, cruel and bright, flared in Kala's chest.

"Daddy!" she tried to yell. "I'm here!"

The bedroom door burst open. The influx of oxygen fed the fire, causing it to roar louder, a hungry beast welcoming a meal.

Arthur Kensington stood in the doorway. He had a wet towel pressed over his nose and mouth, his eyes wide and watering. Behind him were her brothers-Archer and Jules. They looked like a phalanx of saviors, silhouettes against the hellscape of the hallway.

Kala reached out a hand, her fingers trembling. The movement sent a fresh wave of agony through her crushed leg, but she didn't care. They were here. They had come for her.

"Help," she mouthed.

Arthur's eyes scanned the room. His gaze landed on Kala. He saw the beam. He saw the blood pooling around her leg. He saw her outstretched hand.

And then, his eyes moved.

They slid past her, glossing over her suffering as if she were a piece of furniture, and locked onto the corner of the room near the closet.

"Karly!" Arthur screamed, his voice muffled by the towel but distinct enough to shatter Kala's heart.

Karly was huddled in the corner, far from the flames. She was coughing, yes, but she was mobile. There was no beam crushing her bones. There was only a smudge of soot on her perfect, pale cheek.

"Daddy!" Karly shrieked, a high-pitched sound that cut through the crackling of the wood.

Archer didn't hesitate. He rushed past Kala, his heavy boots inches from her outstretched fingers. He didn't look down. He went straight to the corner, scooping Karly up into his arms as if she were made of spun glass.

"I've got you," Archer said, his voice thick with emotion. "We've got you, Karly. Don't look at the fire."

Kala watched, her vision blurring. Not from the smoke, but from a realization that burned hotter than the flames.

"My leg..." Kala whispered. The sound was pathetic. A broken thing.

Arthur turned to leave, herding his son toward the door. He paused for a fraction of a second, looking back at Kala. There was no panic in his eyes for her. There was only annoyance. A cold, hard irritation that she was complicating their escape.

Karly, safe in Archer's arms, buried her face in his chest. But just before they crossed the threshold, she lifted her head. Through the gap between Archer's arm and his body, her eyes met Kala's.

The corner of Karly's mouth twitched upward. It wasn't a grimace of pain. It was a smile. A small, victorious, terrifying smile.

Kala stopped breathing. The pain in her leg vanished, eclipsed by the shock of that expression.

"You did this," Arthur shouted over his shoulder at Kala. "This is your mess! You sit there and think about what you've done!"

The accusation hit her like a physical slap. Arson? They thought she started this?

"No," Kala gasped, but the word died on her lips.

"Go! The roof is coming down!" Arthur pushed the boys into the hallway.

The door slammed shut.

The sound was final. A judge's gavel sentencing her to death.

Kala was alone. The heat intensified, searing the skin on her arms. The air was gone. She was inhaling pure poison now. She stared at the closed door, the wood beginning to blister and blacken.

All her life, she had tried. She had painted her face to look like them. She had dumbed herself down to make them feel smart. She had begged for scraps of affection like a starving dog at a banquet table.

And they left her. They left her to burn because Karly smiled and pointed a finger.

A deep, guttural anger bubbled up from her stomach. It wasn't fear anymore. It was hate. Pure, distilled hate.

I hate you, she thought, her vision tunneling into darkness. I hate you all.

The chandelier above her groaned. The metal gave way, melting under the intensity of the inferno.

Kala looked up as the crystal fixture descended. She didn't close her eyes. She wanted this to be the last thing she saw-the destruction of the Kensington legacy.

If I come back, she promised into the void, I will burn you all down.

The darkness swallowed her whole.