Killed in Our Home, Reborn to Change Fate

I'd sealed every possible leak. So why did it still explode?

I grabbed my car keys and rushed out of the office, speeding all the way to the scene. Before I even reached the development, police tape blocked the road. The area had turned into a disaster zone, the air thick with the acrid stench of burnt debris.

I shoved past the security guard trying to hold me back and stumbled forward. The scene before me was even worse than in my previous life. The villa hadn't just collapsed—the neighboring house had been half blown apart too.

Several firefighters emerged from the rubble carrying a stretcher. A white sheet covered the body, but charred limbs still hung over the edges.

"A family of three. All gone," someone nearby murmured. "It's horrible. I heard the child was only five."

My head buzzed. In my past life, that family of three had faked their deaths. So how did they actually die this time?

A crowd had gathered in front of the wreckage. The moment I appeared, Gabriel spotted me. His eyes were bloodshot, tear tracks streaking his face as he lurched toward me.

"Evelyn! Look what you've done!"

With that furious shout, he slapped me hard across the face. My head snapped to the side, and I tasted blood.

Gabriel's mother, Patricia Wilkinson, collapsed to the ground, sobbing hysterically. "Oh God, this is terrible! I told you not to mess with the gas lines during the renovation, but you wouldn't listen! Now look what happened! You've killed people!"

Camera flashes exploded around me as reporters shoved microphones in my face.

"Ms. Summers, was this accident caused by a design flaw?"

"We heard you illegally modified the gas lines for aesthetic reasons. Is that true?"

Before I could answer, several people burst from the crowd. They were the victims' relatives.

"Murderer! Give me back my brother!"

A middle-aged man lunged at me like a madman. He grabbed my hair and yanked me to the ground. Pain shot through my scalp. My blazer tore open, buttons scattering everywhere.

Gabriel made a show of trying to pull him off, but secretly shoved me, making me fall harder.

"Stop! Please stop! We'll pay compensation!" he shouted, playing the part of a responsible partner taking charge.

At the edge of the crowd, several men in suits watched with cold detachment. They were the debt collectors, those so-called antique dealers who'd been circling the neighboring family.

"We want 50 million dollars. Not a cent less," the leader said flatly.

Just then, the fire department released their preliminary findings. A captain approached me, his expression grave.

"Evelyn Summers? We found severed fragments of the main pipeline at the scene."

He held up an evidence bag containing a section of broken pipe. "The cut is fresh. Violent, deliberate tampering caused the leak. And…"

He paused, his gaze sharpe. "Your fingerprints are the only ones on this pipe."

My head jerked up, and I stared at the evidence bag.

Impossible. This morning, I'd only inspected and reinforced the lines. I hadn't cut anything.

Satisfaction flickered in Gabriel's eyes, but it was gone in an instant. He turned to me with a pained expression.

"Evie, why would you do this? I know you wanted to save money, but you can't gamble with people's lives!"

Accusations crashed over me like waves.

"Monster!"

"She killed a whole family just to save money! Someone like that deserves to be executed!"

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but my voice was drowned out by their fury. This was a carefully orchestrated trap, and they wanted more than just my money.

The police stepped forward with handcuffs. "Evelyn Summers, you're under arrest for criminal negligence resulting in death and involuntary manslaughter. You need to come with us."

As the cold metal snapped around my wrists, I desperately tried to figure out where things had gone wrong.

I lifted my head, my gaze cutting through the crowd. Beyond the police tape, beneath a tree, stood a woman in a white dress.

Jasmine Wade stood there with a coffee cup in hand, watching me with a dark, triumphant smile.

Our eyes met, and Jasmine raised her cup in a mock toast. Her lips clearly mouthed the words, "Go to hell."