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Reborn From Fire: The Ex-wife's Revenge Novel Cover

Reborn From Fire: The Ex-wife's Revenge

Heidi gripped the sterile hospital bedsheets as violent contractions ripped her body apart. The heavy door opened, but it wasn't the doctor. It was Brigette, wearing the exact custom wedding dress Heidi had spent six months designing for herself. Brigette held up her phone on speaker. When the doctor warned that a natural delivery would kill the mother, Christian Page's voice echoed through the room, ice-cold and devoid of any warmth. "Prioritize the Page heirs. Let her die." The man she loved had just signed her death warrant over the phone. Brigette stole her newborn twins, dragged her to an abandoned warehouse, and poured gasoline over her bare legs. Flicking a lit cigar into the puddle, Brigette left Heidi tied to an iron pillar to burn alive. But as the flames formed a deadly circle around her, Heidi's body convulsed with a terrifying truth. In the heart of the blazing inferno, she miraculously gave birth to two more babies she didn't know she was carrying. Using her own back as a human shield against the falling embers, she survived the fire, but the ultimate betrayal burned deeper than her ruined skin. Four years later, Heidi returned to New York with a reconstructed face, two brilliant children, and a terrifying new identity as the world's top underground surgeon. When Christian, entirely unaware of who she was, signed a waiver begging her to save his dying grandfather's life, Heidi looked into his desperate eyes with absolute, clinical boredom. "The game starts now," she said coldly.
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Chapter 2

A bucket of freezing water hit Heidi's face.

She gasped, her eyes snapping open. Her lungs burned as she sucked in the foul air. The heavy stench of gasoline and rotting mold filled her nose.

She was lying on a freezing concrete floor. Dust coated her skin. A violent, tearing pain ripped through her lower abdomen, making her curl inward.

Brigette stood a few feet away. In her arms, she held two screaming newborns. A boy and a girl.

Heidi tried to push herself up. Rough nylon rope bit into her wrists. She was tied securely to a rusted iron pillar.

Brigette looked down at her with absolute disgust.

"You are like a cockroach," Brigette sneered. "I can't believe you actually birthed them in the back of the transport van."

"Give them to me," Heidi rasped. Her throat felt like sandpaper. "Leo. Luna. They are mine."

Brigette laughed. She turned and handed the two crying infants to a massive bodyguard wearing a black ski mask.

Brigette walked up to Heidi. She crouched down. Her sharp acrylic nail dug into Heidi's cheek, slicing a thin line down to her jaw. Warm blood trickled down Heidi's neck.

"They are my children now," Brigette whispered.

The bodyguard picked up a red plastic jug. He started walking in a circle around the iron pillar, pouring the pungent gasoline over the concrete. The liquid splashed onto Heidi's bare legs.

Heidi pulled frantically at the ropes. The friction tore the skin off her wrists. Blood dripped onto the floor. The iron pillar didn't move an inch.

Brigette pulled a thick Cuban cigar from her pocket. She lit it, took a long drag, and smiled.

She flicked the glowing cigar directly into the puddle of gasoline.

Whoosh.

A wall of blue and orange flames erupted instantly. The heat hit Heidi's face like a physical blow. The fire formed a perfect, deadly circle around her.

Brigette turned her back. She walked out the heavy metal doors of the warehouse with the bodyguard and the babies. The heavy deadbolt slammed shut from the outside.

The temperature skyrocketed. Heidi's skin began to blister. Thick, black smoke poured into her lungs. She coughed violently, her chest heaving.

She was going to burn alive.

Suddenly, a contraction hit her so hard her spine bowed against the iron pillar.

Heidi's eyes widened in sheer horror. The pain wasn't over. The pressure in her pelvis was unbearable.

Her body convulsed, a primal, undeniable pressure bearing down on her pelvis. It didn't matter what the incompetent doctors had told her four years ago about twins. Her body knew the terrifying truth. There was another life fighting to escape the inferno.

Survival instinct hijacked her brain. The heat was melting the soles of her hospital socks. Heidi bit down on her own lip until she tasted copper. She let out a blood-curdling scream and pushed.

The induction drugs from the hospital were still ravaging her system. Combined with the extreme adrenaline, her body forced the process.

A third baby slid out onto her blood-soaked hospital gown.

Heidi's hands shook violently. She reached down, her fingers brushing against a sharp piece of broken glass on the concrete. She grabbed it. She didn't hesitate. She sawed through the umbilical cord.

A minute later, another agonizing push tore her open. The fourth baby arrived.

Their weak, tiny cries were completely drowned out by the deafening roar of the wooden roof beams catching fire above her.

Heidi pulled the two tiny, slippery bodies to her chest. She curled her body over them, using her own back as a human shield against the falling embers. Searing pain lashed across her shoulder blades as sparks burned into her flesh.

The smoke was too thick. She couldn't breathe. Her vision faded to black. The only thing keeping her conscious was the tiny, rapid heartbeats fluttering against her chest.

CRASH.

The glass skylight above shattered into a million pieces. A massive gust of wind hit the warehouse floor, blowing the smoke outward.

A military-grade, unmarked black helicopter hovered directly above the hole. A blinding spotlight pierced the smoke, locking onto Heidi's curled body.

Two men in full tactical gear rappelled down the ropes. They landed perfectly inside the ring of fire.

One man whipped out a tactical knife. He sliced through the thick nylon ropes binding Heidi's wrists in one fluid motion.

The second man threw a heavy, silver fire blanket over Heidi and the two babies. He secured a heavy carabiner to her waist.

The winch engaged. Heidi felt her feet leave the ground.

In the final second before she completely lost consciousness, she felt the cool night air hit her face as she was pulled up into the dark sky.

Inside the helicopter cabin, a man in a bespoke suit caught her. Iain Mcdaniel looked down at his sister's severely burned face. His jaw clenched tight. His fists shook with pure rage.

The helicopter banked hard and sped into the New York night.

Below them, the Brooklyn warehouse collapsed in a massive, fiery explosion, leaving nothing but ash.

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