He went rigid.
“I can’t lose you,” she cried, collapsing onto her knees with deliberate dramatics. “Please—don’t abandon me!”
His gaze flicked between us.
Me—outside, fading away in the storm.
Her—inside, clutching the child that tied him down.
And he faltered. That fraction of hesitation—
—that was all the snow needed to claim me completely.
---
I jolted awake with a strangled gasp, lungs burning as if I’d been dragged back from the grave. My body ached like shattered glass pieced together with shaking hands. The sterile sting of disinfectant filled my nostrils, and the blinding fluorescent glare made my skull throb with every heartbeat.
Blinking hard, I tried to orient myself. My fingers twitched—icy, weak—and when I moved them, I felt the tight pull of a tube piercing the back of my hand. Panic surged hot and sharp. I reached instinctively, desperate to rip it free.
“Easy,” a steady voice cut through the haze. I froze.
A man stood at the foot of my bed. A doctor. White coat. Calm stance. But when his eyes met mine, the breath stopped in my chest.
Sergio.
My first love. The boy who had once held my whole world in his hands, only to vanish without a word, leaving me to drown in betrayal. Now he was here, flesh and bone, standing in front of me with the same face I had memorized long ago.
Those warm brown eyes—I knew them. But time had carved shadows into them, an unfamiliar hardness lingering where tenderness used to live.
“Don’t fight it,” he said softly, catching my trembling hand before I could rip out the IV. “You’ve survived more than you realize.”
His words blurred. My mind ran too fast, spiraling with questions, with grief.
“Wh-what day is it?” My voice cracked, weak and broken.
He hesitated, his gaze shifting briefly toward the frosted window before returning to me. His sigh carried the weight of years.
“It’s… December tenth,” he murmured.
The number crashed into me like a blade. “December…?”
His jaw tightened. “Lorraine… you’ve been unconscious for five years. You’ve been in a coma this whole time.”
Five. Years.
The floor of my world vanished. I was weightless, falling.
“No—no, that’s impossible. My parents, they—”
“They’re gone,” Sergio interrupted quietly. His voice carried sorrow, but also finality. “A car accident. It happened not long after you were admitted.”
The blow shattered me. My chest hollowed out, leaving nothing but cold. I had slept while the universe burned everything I loved to ash.
“I’m sorry, Lorraine,” Sergio added, adjusting the drip with gentle hands. “Right now, your only focus should be healing.”
But healing was impossible when every word broke me further. A numb heaviness spread through me, choking me. My lips trembled as I forced out the only question that mattered.
“Dominic… where is Dominic?”
His expression darkened, shadows dragging across his face. “Dominic Beaumont? He’s married now. To Daniela. They have a child together.”
The words sliced through me. My insides twisted, nausea and betrayal clawing at my stomach. My grip on the sheets tightened until my knuckles ached.
“And?” I whispered hoarsely. “What else?”
Sergio hesitated, then delivered the final knife. “Your inheritance. Your family’s estate. Dominic seized it all. Your shares, your accounts—everything you owned now belongs to him.”
My pulse thundered in my ears. My legacy. My family’s bloodline. Stolen. Corrupted. Everything gone.
Tears stung at the corners of my eyes, but I swallowed them back. I would not cry. Not now.
The devastation hollowed me out, but beneath it—something else stirred. Something sharper than grief.
Sergio straightened, glancing at the door. “Rest. I’ll come back later.”
Then he left, footsteps fading into the corridor, leaving me alone with a silence so heavy it smothered me.
Flat on my back, I stared at the ceiling. Five years stolen. My parents dead. My wealth stolen. My future hijacked by the very man who swore to love me.
I couldn’t remain here. Couldn’t drown in pity. Slowly, painfully, I sat up, the IV tugging at my skin. My legs trembled as they touched the floor, cold biting at my bare feet. Dizzy, weak, but alive.
A flicker of light drew my eyes upward. A television mounted high on the wall. I reached for the remote, fumbling, and pressed the button.
The screen lit up.
There they were.
Dominic and Daniela. Smiling. Radiant. Posing with their child in their arms. The image of a perfect family. My family.
The headline burned into my brain:
“Dominic and Daniela Beaumont: The Century’s Power Couple—Wealth, Influence, Perfection.”
I stared, unable to breathe. Their son—Dominic’s heir—beamed from the screen. Their empire shone brighter than ever, built on my ruin.
Wealth. Power. Glory. My bloodline’s legacy wrapped in their embrace.
And me? Alone. Forgotten.
A fire sparked low in my chest, cutting through the numbness.
Anger.
Hot, blistering, alive.
My teeth clenched, my heart pounding with a clarity I hadn’t felt in years. For the first time, grief didn’t consume me—it sharpened me.
Dominic had betrayed me. Daniela had stolen my life. And now they lived as though I had never existed.
No.
I wouldn’t allow it.
I had been buried alive for five years, but now I was awake. And I would not rest until they were stripped of everything.
They would learn what ruin tasted like.
And I would be the one to feed it to them.
