Chapter 1Consumed by the Sea of Fire

The day my baby was due, I was in a horrific car crash on the way to the hospital. I was alone.

My husband, an ER doctor, wasn't there. He was off saving his first love after she’d tried to kill herself by slitting her wrists.

I didn't call him.

I just watched as my mangled car exploded, consumed by a sea of fire.

In my last life, a single desperate call from me was all it took. He’d abandoned Eliza at her apartment and rushed to my side. Our baby and I were saved, but Eliza bled to death, alone. Alex didn't find her body for three days.

He told me he didn't blame me, that it was his choice. He even promised to make it up to me, to finally give me the wedding I deserved.

But the night before the ceremony, he knocked me unconscious and dragged me to Eliza’s apartment.

In the same bathtub where she’d bled out, he took a scalpel to me. He made me feel her pain, slice by agonizing slice. He even ripped our child from my womb while I was still alive.

His eyes were bloodshot, a crazed reflection staring back at my mutilated body. “It was just a car crash! You would have survived!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “But Eliza… she died because of your call! Tonight, you’ll know exactly what she went through!”

When I opened my eyes again, I was back. The day of the crash.

* * *

A deafening roar of metal, then the world was a nightmare of tumbling steel and shattering glass. Pregnant and bleeding, I was thrown around the cabin like a rag doll.

My electric car, now a crumpled wreck, began to spew acrid white smoke.

I couldn’t believe I was back here, at this exact moment.

Reality hit me like a second impact. With every ounce of strength I had, I clawed my way out of the driver's side window, my upper body spilling onto the asphalt. But my legs were pinned, trapped in the twisted metal.

Bystanders kept their distance, their faces pale with the fear of an explosion. My cries for help were swallowed by the ringing in my ears.

The crowd wasn't going to help. It was up to me.

My hands, slick with blood, trembled as I fumbled for my phone and dialed 911. A searing pain ripped through my abdomen, and a cold sweat drenched my forehead.

The voice on the other end was one of Alex’s colleagues. I’d met her a few times. She recognized my voice instantly, and her tone turned to ice.

“Clara, Dr. Monroe is tied up today. He told us you might call the main line if you couldn't reach his cell. Look, I know what you’re going to ask, but I really can’t tell you where he is. This is a priority line, so please don’t waste our resources. I have to go.”

“Wait!” I screamed, a new wave of panic washing over me as she started to hang up. Just then, the impact of the crash finally dislodged a pile of junk from the passenger side door panel—a shower of Eliza's forgotten cosmetics rained down on the seat. I ignored them.

“Don’t hang up! You don’t understand, I’m not looking for Alex! I was in a car accident, right at the intersection in front of the hospital! The car could explode any second, you have to send someone—"

She cut me off, her voice dripping with annoyance. “Clara, stop the theatrics, will you? Dr. Monroe isn’t here. Even if we sent an ambulance, you wouldn’t see him. Please, just stop. This line is for saving lives. Do you understand? You’re tying up public resources. I’m begging you.”

Her voice softened, but only with a patronizing pity. “He didn’t mean to ignore your calls, you know. He’s dealing with a life-or-death situation. You’re pregnant, just focus on that. Go home, rest, and don’t overthink things. He’ll explain everything when he’s done.”

Then, the line went dead.

A tear of pure despair traced a path through the grime on my cheek and splattered onto the pavement.

I never imagined Alex would be so cruel, so thorough. He had cut off my every escape. I’d called his department before when Eliza had summoned him away with some flimsy excuse, but I’d never lied. I’d never faked an emergency.

Seven years of marriage, and this is what he thought of me.

No wonder he’d been so merciless in my past life, so detached as he carved me up for her.

But there was no time for grief. Death was closing in. The heat inside the car was becoming unbearable, a pressure cooker about to blow.

I took a ragged breath, my eyes falling to my swollen belly. I have to get out.

With a primal scream, I pushed again, trying to drag my lower body through the shattered window. Glass shards sliced into my palms, embedding themselves deep in the flesh. I moved another six inches.

My strength was fading. I collapsed onto the pavement, gasping for air. The skin on my back felt like it was roasting, and in just a couple of minutes, the car was completely shrouded in thick, black smoke.

More people had gathered now. A few brave souls started shouting for help, asking if there was a doctor in the crowd.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of hurried footsteps.

It was Dr. Evans, the Head of the ER. Alex’s boss.