The Honeymoon of Death

My residential area suddenly catches on fire, and the twins my husband had with his first wife are trapped in the room.

This time, I call 911 without hesitation. After informing my husband of the fire, I don't stop him from leaving.

In my past life, when the fire broke out, my husband was about to leave on a vacation with his ex-wife and true love. The trip was to a deserted island—it was to make up for past regrets.

I ripped his flight ticket to shreds, stopping him from leaving the house. We successfully saved the kids. After the fire, my husband hurried to the island. However, he learned his ex-wife was declared missing after being taken away by a strong wave.

He was calm and composed after returning, even being extra caring to me. Three months later, I discovered I was pregnant. I wanted to surprise him, but my vision went blurry. I collapsed on the floor while twitching violently.

He stood aside and watched me coldly. Then, he placed a photo of his ex-wife before me. "You've gotten your wish, Caroline. Are you happy now that you've killed Sasha? You can accompany her now! No, you don't deserve that. An evil woman like you only deserves to go to the underworld!"

I breathe my last breath as my vision clears, allowing me to see the frostiness in his eyes.

When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day the fire broke out.

I clenched my hands tightly. Panic gripped me as I recalled the helplessness I had felt in my dying moments during my previous life. When I felt the strength returning to my palms, I was finally certain—I had been reborn.

I glanced at the clock, knowing I would be informed that my house was on fire soon. Right on cue, the phone rang. It was our neighbor, Paula Klein.

She yelled, "Caroline, get back here! Luna and Liam are home napping. Emery just left, and he isn't picking up his phone! Hurry!"

The call ended abruptly. My heart raced as I immediately dialed 911 to report the fire. Then, I rushed out of my office and headed straight home.

While driving, I tried calling Emery Fike, but as expected, he did not answer. Left with no choice, I sent him a message instead.

"There's a fire at home. The kids are still inside, napping. Get back here now!"

To my shock, his reply came almost instantly. "Caroline Sawyer, you've really lost it with your lies lately!"

Another one followed, reading, "Ever since Sasha came back, you've been ridiculously petty. Besides, if there's a fire, aren't there other firefighters around?

"I'm off today. Don't drag Paula into this stupid drama to fool me. You're so bad at lying. You're dumb and cruel."

In my previous life, Emery distrusted me just like this. Back then, I had no choice but to physically block his car and tear up his plane ticket to keep him from leaving. Only then did he stay.

His expertise as a firefighter allowed him to quickly control the flames. He rescued the twins, Luna and Liam Fike, preventing the fire from spreading further.

However, once the situation was handled, Emery still rushed off to a nearby island to meet Sasha Woods and "explain things." He found out too late that she had been swept away by the ocean, and her body was never recovered.

Surprisingly, Emery did not react with the grief or despair I had expected. Instead, he became a model husband and father—working regular hours, taking on all the housework, and even preparing nutritious meals for me and the kids.

Within three months of his care, I found out I was pregnant. One day, without warning, my body failed me. I collapsed, gasping for air as my vision blurred. Emery just stood there while watching me struggle. His expression was cold and detached.

That was when the truth hit me—his so-called care had all been an illusion. Everything he had fed me was laced with a slow-acting poison. Blinded by the illusion of love, I had never suspected a thing.

When I finally reached the neighborhood today, I noticed that the fire trucks had not arrived yet. Our house was only three miles from the fire station. We had bought this place because it was close to Emery's work, knowing how crucial rapid response was in his line of duty.

Confused, I dialed the station myself. The line connected, and a voice I knew all too well answered.