Rising From Ashes: My Reincarnated Love

Cora and Lena boarded the charter bus and walked straight to the back row. The engine rumbled, and the bus pulled out of the city. Four hours later, the bus turned off the highway. It drove deep into a heavily guarded, private woodland area in Upstate New York. The bus lurched to a stop in a massive clearing of thick mud. The doors hissed open. Freezing air, heavy with the scent of pine needles, rushed inside. Cora adjusted the heavy straps of her backpack. She stepped off the bus, her boots sinking an inch into the wet dirt. She looked around at the cluster of white expedition tents. The site manager, Frank Peterson, was yelling into a walkie-talkie, directing a crew carrying heavy generators. Nearby, Dr. Leo Hayes was loudly telling a terrible joke about soil composition to anyone who would listen. Cora ignored the noise. She walked away from the crowd toward a freshly dug trench. She crouched down. She pulled off her glove. She scooped up a handful of the dark, damp earth. She rubbed the dirt between her thumb and forefinger, her brow furrowing as her brain automatically analyzed the soil density and age. Suddenly, the screech of heavy tires cut through the camp. A massive, black Range Rover slammed to a halt right in front of the main command tent. Frank Peterson dropped his walkie-talkie. He practically sprinted toward the vehicle, his posture instantly submissive. The passenger door opened. A bodyguard in a windbreaker stepped out and popped open a large black umbrella. Then, the rear door swung open. A long leg clad in dark tactical pants stepped out into the mud. The man from the courtyard stepped into the gray daylight. He was wearing a high-end, dark outdoor expedition jacket. Under the overcast sky, his sharp, cold features looked even more intimidating than they had in the firelight. Cora was still crouching by the trench. When she saw his face, her fingers went numb. The dirt dropped from her hand, hitting the mud with a soft splat. Dr. Thorne rushed out of the main tent, a massive, welcoming smile on his face. Thorne clapped his hands loudly. "Advance team! Gather around! Now!" Cora's joints felt rusted. She forced herself to stand up. She shuffled into the crowd, keeping herself in the middle of the pack. Her eyes were glued to the man. "Everyone," Dr. Thorne announced proudly. "This is the primary benefactor and Chief Director of this project. Mr. Julian Montgomery the Fourth." Julian Montgomery. The name hit Cora's brain like a physical shockwave. Her ears rang. Beside her, Chloe and Jessica were whispering frantically, practically drooling over his billionaire status and his striking looks. Julian's cold eyes swept over the crowd. His voice was deep, rough, and commanded absolute obedience as he outlined the safety protocols. As his gaze tracked across the back row, it suddenly stopped. His eyes locked onto Cora with the precision of a sniper. Cora's heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She instantly ducked her head, letting her dark hair fall forward to completely hide her right cheek. Julian's eyes narrowed slightly. He recognized the terrified posture from the courtyard last night. He didn't call her out. He smoothly broke eye contact and ordered the team to grab their hard hats and headlamps. They were going down immediately. The crowd scattered toward the supply crates. Cora stood frozen, her hands ice-cold. The ghost from her nightmare was her boss. The sheer terror of the coincidence made her nauseous. Lena ran over and shoved a yellow hard hat into Cora's chest. "Come on! Keep up!" Cora jammed the hard hat onto her head. She took a deep breath, fighting down the panic, and marched toward the dark entrance of the crypt.