Rising from the Ashes: Her Road to Revenge

On a sunny beach, ten-year-old Emma Jones was busy hunting for pretty seashells. She picked up a colorful one, her face lighting up with a big smile.

"Hey, check this out! George, you're gonna love it!" Emma shouted, running over to her friend, George Russell.

George, dressed like a little rich kid, sat on the sand looking all gloomy. He glanced up at Emma, whose dress was all faded from too many washes, and a spark of curiosity flickered in his eyes.

"You're giving this to me? Why?" George asked, puzzled.

"Because you look sad, and I want to cheer you up." Emma grinned, handing him the shell, her voice full of hope.

George took the shell and, for once, smiled. "Thanks! This shell is really nice, I like it."

"Great! You gotta stay happy from now on." Emma beamed, her smile pure and bright.

"I will!" George nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips.

That summer, they met at the beach every day and played together.

One day, Emma stepped on some glass and cut her foot. George carried her to the clinic.

As she lay across his back, the golden hues of the sunset painting her cheeks, Emma's heart pounded with a mix of pain and something more profound.

Blushing, she tightened her arms around George's neck, "George, I want to be with you forever, playing with you every day."

Maybe it was the warmth of the sunset, but George thought for a moment and promised, "When we grow up, I'll marry you!"

That promise felt especially strong under the sunlight.

Time flew by, and Emma grew up.

At a classmate's birthday party, the vibe was lively, and Emma ended up drinking a bit too much. Holding a room key, slightly tipsy, she pushed open a door and froze at the sight before her.

"George?" She stared at George, half-lying on the bed. He had grown into a handsome young man, but Emma recognized him instantly. He seemed a bit out of it, probably drunk too.

George looked up, and Emma saw a flash of amazement in his eyes. She was thrilled, thinking he still recognized her after all these years. But then, George pulled her onto the bed.

Her chest ached under George's rough touch, a stark clash of pain and an unsettling sensation that blurred the lines of her awareness. In her dazed state, Emma barely processed the swift disappearance of her clothes.

George's hot hands roamed over her smooth, sexy body, and he couldn't hold back anymore. He embraced her cool, soft skin.

George sighed in pleasure, his hands exploring Emma's untouched body.

Pain shot through Emma. She wanted to escape, but the strength difference made it impossible.

George's burning body pinned her down, taking her roughly. She didn't know how long it lasted, but as her consciousness faded, George finally finished.

As George's mind cleared, he looked at the bruised stranger on the bed, frowning. He knew he had strong self-control, and today's loss of control wasn't just from the alcohol.

Clearly, he had been set up.

And whoever set him up had to be connected to this woman.

"George..." Emma croaked, but the next second, George grabbed her throat!