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Rising From Ashes: My Reincarnated Love

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 760    |    Released on: 15/05/2026

pushed open the heavy, creaking do

d the climb up the dim, narrow stairwell to the third

e stiff from the cold. She unlocked the door and ste

dropped it on the floor. She walked st

he edges of the porcelain sink with both hands, leaning he

look into the cracked mirror. She stared at the r

er ears. Karen White's disgusted eyes flashed behi

her hands under the stream, grabbed a bar

ned, but she couldn't stop. She scrubbed until her fingers ached, desper

el. She walked into her bedroom, collapsed onto the narrow ma

ra moved like a machine. She got out of bed a

ng it to fall over the right side of her face. She swung h

k University archaeological research cent

stopped. The janitorial staff was frant

spotless. Someone had even laid down

ckpack straps and walked down the

n her coworker, Lena Sullivan, slid over.

eyes wide with excitement. "There's a massi

loves from the dispenser. "Which V

rate," Lena said, waving her free hand. "Bill

d her back to Lena and flicked on the bri

she lifted a small, delicate bone fragment from t

stant, sweeping melody of a string quartet playing a Victorian waltz, layered over the frantic rustling of heavy silk skirts. The phantom smell of burning beeswax candl

slipped from her fingers and hit the st

d, her brow furrowing. "Cora? Are you okay

ced the panic down into her stomach. She

he heavy sound of synchronized dress

Dr. Thorne's assistant poked h

istant ordered loudly. "Report to Conferen

m in the trash. She followed a buzzing, excite

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Rising From Ashes: My Reincarnated Love
Rising From Ashes: My Reincarnated Love
“Cora Foster was a brilliant archaeologist, but a jagged burn scar across her face made the world treat her like a contagious monster. During an elite excavation of a Gilded Age crypt, touching an ancient artifact triggered a terrifying memory. She remembered being Seraphina Beaumont, a socialite brutally buried alive by her vain, cruel sister, Isolde. When the team pried open the crypt's pristine mahogany casket, they cheered, believing the mummified corpse inside was Seraphina. But Cora recognized the onyx hairpin and the angular jawline. It was Isolde. The sister who had stolen her life, mocked her agony, and left her to suffocate in the dark. Her colleagues scoffed at her forensic proof, dismissing her as a scarred, delusional liability. Worse, the ruthless billionaire funding the expedition, Julian Montgomery, was the spitting image of Alistair-the man Seraphina had deeply loved. Why was Julian staring at her ruined face with such intense, inexplicable recognition? And why did Isolde take Seraphina's most precious silver ring to the grave? Driven by a century of agonizing grief, Cora secretly pried the tarnished ring from the mummy's stiff, dead fingers and dropped it into her pocket. "What are you looking at, Foster?" Julian's deep voice vibrated inches from her ear, his cold, predatory eyes locked directly onto her half-open pocket.”