Rising from Ashes

Inside Wront Prison, the July heat hung so heavy that it was hard to breathe.

Just as she let her sleeve drop to cover the glaring scar on her arm, Maia Watson — once known as Maia Morgan — heard a correctional officer call out, "Maia, someone from the Morgan family is here to pick you up!"

Her hand froze midway through the motion.

Hearing "Morgan family" again was like tasting something bitter and familiar all at once.

She had once been the daughter of the Morgan family.

Everything fell apart four years ago, when the police knocked on their door and announced they'd tracked down Richard Morgan and Sandra Morgan's real daughter — Rosanna Morgan.

In the blink of an eye, Maia's identity was ripped away. She was branded a fraud, a fake.

Her real parents had died long ago. To keep up appearances, the Morgans made a show of acceptance. They told the world that they still saw Maia as family.

But anyone who had watched them for seventeen years would know better. Richard and Sandra had always been preoccupied with business ventures. Maia had been more like a guest in their home than a daughter.

Then Rosanna came back, and suddenly, their entire world revolved around her.

Then came the incident with Radiant Jewels. Rosanna stole a prized treasure and pinned the blame on Maia. It was an obvious setup, but the Morgans didn't care. They believed Rosanna without question. In fact, they helped her. They made public accusations and did it with such ease that Maia never stood a chance.

Radiant Jewels belonged to the Cooper Group. The Coopers weren't just powerful. In Wront, they were practically royalty. The Morgans couldn't risk offending them — not for someone who wasn't even their real daughter.

They erased Maia's name from the Morgan family, told the public that she was taken in from a struggling family called the Watsons, and sent her straight to prison.

At the memory, Maia's knuckles tightened until her nails bit into her skin.

She had survived four years behind bars for a crime Rosanna committed.

And now, that sentence was over. She was finally getting out.

...

Just beyond the prison gates, the crowd of reporters buzzed with restless energy.

Heat rippled through the air, and impatience showed on every face.

Then, at last, the massive gates creaked open.

Maia walked out into the sunlight, dressed in the same plain outfit she wore the day she was locked away.

The second Sandra caught sight of Maia, her face lit up like she had just spotted a long-lost child. She rushed over, surrounded by a swarm of reporters waving microphones and flashing cameras.

Maia watched the entire spectacle and nearly rolled her eyes.

"Maia, my dear daughter, I came to bring you home," Sandra said, her voice catching as tears shimmered in her eyes.

Even a few of the reporters nearby couldn't help but murmur in sympathy at the emotional performance.

Unfazed, Maia stared her down and said coldly, "You must be mistaken, Mrs. Morgan. I'm not your daughter."