Rising From Ashes: My Reincarnated Love

Chapter 3

Word Count: 681 | Released on: 15/05/2026

gh the heavy oak double do

sphere was thick with nervous tension

empty chair in the darkest corner and sat down. She tilted

the room. He was sweating slightly as

an Powell and Director Evans were wearing their most ex

s throat. He clicked

hed onto the projector screen. It showed

tement. "During a routine geological survey, we have uncovered a mass

d. It showed the entrance to a stone tomb, co

rence room. Finding an untouched mausoleum

d," Dr. Thorne continued, "we are assembling an e

rd from the podium. He

sica Lane sat up perfectly straight. T

ames of three senior spec

yes scanned the crowded room and locke

Thorne said clearly

dead silent. Every single head

d. She let out a loud, theat

ly enough for half the room to hear, "Why is sh

intertwined her fingers in her lap and squeezed until her j

his voice echoing off the walls. "Ms. Foster was the only one who correctly identified the subject as a 19th-century Irish dockworker, based entirely on the wear

od up and announced that the meeting was ad

st Cora's row. She intentionally veered off co

She didn't say a word. She just kept her h

nd stopped in front of her. He h

y. He looked her right in the eye. "I know

to pack. And maybe go visit your father befor

es dulled. A cold numbness spread throu

er backpack. She turned and walked

sk. She took a deep breath, preparing to look at

Chapter End

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Rising From Ashes: My Reincarnated Love

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“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.”