Chapter 3

The estate's servants scurried like headless chickens, carrying buckets and basins, throwing water onto the towering flames only to see it vanish with a hiss into steam.

Cries and screams mixed with the sharp crackling of collapsing wood, all of it blending into a noise so intense it almost split my head.

But as I stood there, the whole world felt utterly silent to me.

Only the crackling, roaring fire before me was vivid. Alive. Passionate. It was like a grand, magnificent memorial offered up for the ghost who had lain silent for ten long years.

"Mr. Edward Harrington... He's still inside!" a woman wailed, hysterically trying to rush toward the flames before being restrained by those around her.

"And Ms. Grace! She's trapped in there too," another young maid shrieked, her face going deathly pale.

The crowd kept growing, people pointing at the burning manor, eyes wide with shock and helpless fear.

"Oh heavens, this is such a disaster! How did the fire even start?" someone cried out.

"Mr. Harrington is the heir. What'll happen if something happens to him?!" Another voice broke through the chaos.

"Ms. Grace is so delicate... What if she can't make it out alive?" someone else whispered, worry etched on their face.

I watched this farce unfold, my gaze cold and unaffected.

Back in my previous life, when I nearly died dragging Edward and Lilian out of the flames, the crowd had gathered just like this.

But all the praise and sympathy then went straight to Edward, the "miracle survivor," and Lillian, the "poor, frightened little miss."

Meanwhile, I, the true hero, burned beyond recognition and barely holding onto life, got a few fleeting comments about my loyalty and courage, before I was quickly forgotten and left to fade into obscurity.

It wasn't until Edward was forced to honor his promise and marry me that they remembered I existed. They called me that lucky girl who climbed above her station, ruined Edward's happy match, and became nothing but a pitiful wretch in their eyes.

"Hey, isn't that... Ms. Shaw?" Someone finally noticed me hidden in the shadows, surprise lacing their voice, like they'd only just remembered I existed.

Several curious and bewildered eyes swept over me. They clearly couldn't wrap their heads around why I was here, and looking so... completely unharmed.

Aside from a few smudges of soot and a skirt torn at the hem, I was practically untouched, especially if they compared me to those two trapped inside the blaze.

A man who looked like the steward rushed over, sounding both urgent and suspicious. "Ms. Shaw? What are you doing here? Have you seen Mr. Harrington or Ms. Grace?"

I pointed toward the west wing, where the flames were fiercest, keeping my tone steady but carefully lacing it with a touch of confusion and leftover fear.

I said, "I... I just wanted to talk to Lily, but then I saw the fire. The smoke was everywhere, and I couldn't find my way out, so I just ran. Next thing I knew, I'd somehow escaped."

It was the perfect excuse.

Just the kind of reaction they'd expect from a girl who'd been trapped, barely made it out, and was still badly shaken.

And why would I go looking for Lillian? Everyone knew we were "as close as sisters." Everyone knew I was so "kind and gentle."

The steward looked skeptical, but with rescuing those trapped being the priority, he had no time to interrogate me. He just wrung his hands in frustration. "What do we do? The fire's too intense! No one can get in."

"Quick! Tear down the east corridor. We have to cut off the flames," someone barked out an order, trying to take control of the situation.

The chaos only grew worse.

I stepped back a bit, blending further into the shadows at the edge of the crowd.

But my gaze was locked onto that hellish blaze.

Edward, Lillian, were you still trapped in there?

Were you both struggling, calling out in hopeless fear?

I could almost see Edward, ever the "hero," throwing his body over his fragile cousin, desperately ramming that door, the escape they'd unknowingly missed, thanks to my "accidental" oversight.

Hot touching.

Too bad I was the only one here to watch.

And to be honest, I was relishing every moment of it.

Time dragged on, but the fire showed no sign of dying down. Every bucket of water thrown in was like trying to put out an ocean with a thimble, utterly useless.

The heads of the Harrington household had arrived. Edward's mother, Bernice Harrington—my dear mother-in-law, Lady Harrington—was being supported by servants, weeping so violently she was on the verge of collapse.

"My son! Edward! Please, come out!" she sobbed. "Lily! My poor Lily!"

Her grief seemed genuine, raw, as if her entire world was trapped inside that inferno.

In my previous life, Bernice sat by my sickbed, clutching my hand, tears streaming down her face. "Vivian, you saved Edward's life. Our family will be forever in your debt. I give you my word, I will make this marriage happen."

And what was the result of that promise? A decade of a hollow, loveless marriage, culminating in her son's venomous words: "Touching you disgusts me."

Lord Charles Harrington was there too, his face like thunder, his voice hoarse but brooking no argument as he directed the staff to redouble their firefighting efforts.

In the chaos, no one spared me a second glance.

Honestly, I was glad nobody bothered with me. I enjoyed the peace.

Waves of scorching heat crashed over me, making my cheeks burn.

How nice.

This heat was a reminder. A reminder that I was alive. That I had been given a second chance.

And inside that blaze, someone was dying in my place.