Reborn to Burn My Cheating Husband
Lily · Completed · 5.9k Words
Introduction
In my past life, he charged into the flames to save her—while I burned alive trying to save him.
The moment I died, he wasted no time using my life insurance money to throw her the wedding of the century, right at my family's winery.
This life?
"I'm going to get help," I said, and walked away.
Behind me, something massive came crashing down. His scream tore through the smoke.
I didn't look back.
Chapter 1
"Camille! Get over here!" my husband Arthur screamed, clutching his mistress tightly in his arms.
In my past life, he charged into the flames to save her—while I burned alive trying to save him.
The moment I died, he wasted no time using my life insurance money to throw her the wedding of the century, right at my family's winery.
This life?
"I'm going to get help," I said, and walked away.
Behind me, something massive came crashing down. His scream tore through the smoke.
I didn't look back.
——
"Sienna! Don't be afraid! I'm coming to save you!"
The familiar voice reached my ears, and an acrid smell of smoke seared into my nostrils.
I snapped my eyes open, coughing violently from the fumes. The heat scorched my skin, and before me was a blinding wall of flame.
I lifted my head, and through the swirling smoke, I saw my husband, Arthur.
He was charging heedlessly into the fire.
My mind went blank for an instant—then the searing, heart-wrenching pain of my past life came flooding back.
In my previous life, it was this very fire, this same sudden blaze.
Arthur had rushed into the most dangerous part of the fire without a second thought, all to save Sienna.
And I—in trying to shove my husband out of the way of the collapsing oak barrel racks—had been pinned beneath tons of solid wood and scalding wine.
My spine had shattered. I screamed in agony amid the flames, utterly without hope.
And Arthur? He hadn't even glanced back at me. Clutching Sienna, unscathed, tightly in his arms, he had trampled over my blood to escape and live.
Later, he used the life insurance money and the winery inheritance my death had bought him to give Sienna the wedding of the century.
"Camille! What are you standing there for? Get over here and help me move this beam!" Arthur's furious roar snapped me back to the present.
He was struggling to hoist a burning wooden beam, trying to clear a path for Sienna to crawl out of the corner where she was trapped.
And right above his head, the massive oak barrel rack—loaded with vintage wine—was teetering, on the verge of collapse.
My fingers twitched slightly.
If I rushed over now, just as I had in my past life, and shoved him out of the way, he would walk away unharmed—while I would fall once more into hell.
I looked at him. There wasn't a flicker of feeling in my heart.
"Camille!" Seeing me standing motionless, a flash of impatience and fury crossed Arthur's eyes.
"I'm going to get help."
Without a moment's hesitation, I turned and strode toward the cellar's emergency exit.
"You cold-blooded lunatic! If anything happens to Sienna, I will never forgive you!" Arthur's hysterical curses tore through the air behind me.
Just as I stepped past the safety door, an earth-shattering crash erupted behind me.
The massive oak barrel rack, finally unable to withstand the heat any longer, came crashing down.
"AAAHHH—!!!"
Arthur's agonized scream drowned out even the blaring alarms.
Tons of oak barrels and scalding wine landed with perfect precision on his legs.
I didn't look back. But no one knew that the hand hidden in my sleeve was perfectly steady—it didn't tremble at all.
I walked out of the cellar and reached back to pull the fireproof door shut behind me.
I didn't seal it completely—just left a narrow gap, enough to keep the fire from spreading to the main building, while also making sure the sounds from inside would barely carry out.
The air outside was crisp and cold. I drew in a deep breath of the grape-scented air unique to Napa Valley, then pulled out my phone and glanced at the time on the screen.
In my head, I counted down thirty seconds.
Thirty seconds—more than enough for the scalding wood to leave permanent, irreversible marks on Arthur's legs.
Then, I dialed 911.
"Help! The winery's on fire! My husband—my husband is still inside!" My voice instantly cracked with sobs and panic.
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