Rising From Ashes: My Reincarnated Love

Chapter 5

Word Count: 705 | Released on: 15/05/2026

reezing tiles of the hallway. Her ch

cracked open. A cold night breeze bl

She needed to get outside. She needed to cl

by her door. She wrapped it tightly around herself and walk

r lamps illuminated the wet cobblestones. Th

r face in her hands, pressing her palms against he

she he

nd of expensive leather shoes

tared toward the dark archway

hadows. He was wearing a perfec

dense metal hitting his rings was sharp in the quiet night. He suddenly paused, shifting his weight to pull a slim flashlight from his coat pocket. He clicked it on, a

lt like a sledgehammer slamm

unted the edges of her nightmares. It was the

entire body went comple

ard her. His eyes, sharp and predatory, pierc

ouette. His dark eyebrows pul

e realized the courtyard light was

he collar of her cardi

e bench. She scrambled away, keeping her head

re, watching her with a heavy, oppressi

him, giving hi

shifted. A sharp, icy scent of cedarwo

ackling hearth, the scratch of his fountain pen on parchment, and the feeling of falling asleep against his shoulder while he worked late into the night. That buri

lew up the three flights of stairs, and slammed

he floor. She covered her face with her hands

k. She sat on the floo

, rapid knocking

e hallway. "The bus leaves

d up. She walked to the bathroom and spl

ver her scar. She hoisted her heavy

lowed Lena out to the charte

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.”