I hadn’t been living with my biological parents for long when their mansion went up in flames. The servants and I scrambled out, choking on the thick, acrid smoke that clawed at our lungs. The heat was a physical presence, pressing in on us from all sides. Our maid, Anna, her face smeared with soot, grabbed my arm. Her voice was a panicked squeak. "Miss Sophie! Quick, call your father! He can send people to put it out!" But the housekeeper, Martha, a stern woman who had been with the family for decades, pulled me in the opposite direction. "His Lordship is celebrating Miss Kaley's birthday tonight. He is not to be disturbed!" she snapped, her voice firm despite the chaos. "The young miss and I will handle the fire." Anna shook her head, her coughing fits wracking her small frame. "What can you two possibly do? You have to call him!" The searing heat on my skin was a brutal reminder. I was back. I had been reborn. 1 In my last life, it had played out just like this. I’d been recently brought back from the foster system, a stranger in my own home. The mansion caught fire on the same day as the birthday of Kaley, the daughter my parents had raised by mistake. Anna and Martha had the exact same argument in front of me. Last time, I listened to Anna. I called my father. This time, I was dialing 911. This time, my fate was in my own hands. I covered my mouth and nose, ready to bolt outside to make the call, but Martha lunged, blocking my path. "And where do you think you're going, Miss Sophie?" I ignored her, pulling my phone from my pocket and tapping the three digits. The call connected instantly. "911, what's your emergency—" In the next second, Martha’s hand shot out and slapped the phone from my grasp. It clattered to the marble floor, the call abruptly ending. "What are you doing, calling 911?" she hissed, her face contorted with a strange fury. "Mr. Cooper is a man in the public eye. What would this do to his reputation? Having a house fire splashed all over the news?" She loomed over me. "And what if he comes back to deal with this? What about Kaley's birthday? We will handle this ourselves. Come, we'll use buckets." Before I could react, her fingers dug into my arm like a vise, and she started dragging me back toward the inferno. I struggled, but Martha was a large, strong woman. The crackling roar of the fire grew louder, the smoke thicker. I was forced into a violent coughing fit, tears streaming from my stinging eyes. Martha shoved a metal bucket into my hands, her gaze sharp and cold. "Today is Miss Kaley's eighteenth birthday, young lady. Nothing is more important than that." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't think a little drama like this will help you win their favor. Miss Kaley has been raised by Mr. and Mrs. Cooper for eighteen years. You can't compete with that." Even in the short time I'd been here, I'd noticed Martha’s fierce, almost fanatical devotion to Kaley. She saw me, the true daughter, as nothing more than an intruder, a threat to Kaley's happiness. But I never imagined she’d take it this far, accusing me of vying for attention while the house burned down around us. The bucket was already warm in my hands, the metal growing hot from the ambient heat. I couldn't stay here. This fire was beyond our control. If I didn't get out now, I would die. 2 The moment she sensed my intention to flee, Martha’s grip on my arm tightened, and she yanked me deeper into the smoke-filled corridor. A chilling realization washed over me: Martha had started this fire. If I died here, I would be the perfect scapegoat, and Kaley’s only rival would be permanently removed. Was I doomed to repeat my fate, to die in a fire no matter what? In my past life, I had escaped this first fire, only to perish in another. I had listened to Anna and called my father. He had rushed back with a team, and they had managed to extinguish the blaze. But Kaley, waiting for her parents at The Pinnacle, the city’s most exclusive rooftop restaurant, had jumped from the 82nd floor when they didn't show up. She was shattered beyond recognition. My parents, Richard and Eleanor, were unnervingly calm during her lavish funeral. But that night, as they performed the ritual of burning her belongings, my father suddenly set the entire memorial hall ablaze. As guests screamed and ran for the exits, they found my mother had locked the doors from the outside. Amidst the spreading flames, my father’s laughter was demonic. "I want every single one of you to join my Kaley in death!" he shrieked. He seized me, his grip like iron, and dragged me toward the pyre, forcing my face closer and closer to the flames. "It was just a fire!" he roared, his face a mask of grief-stricken madness. "Why did you have to call me? You knew it was Kaley's birthday! You knew I was in the middle of a live-streamed keynote speech! Calling me forced my hand—I had to come back!" His voice broke. "If it weren't for you, how could my precious daughter have died on her eighteenth birthday? You should have been the one to die!" My skin sizzled, an agony so intense it made my entire body tremble. I could barely force the words out. "I didn't know... I didn't know you were giving a speech. I was just scared." "And I didn't know a birthday was so important..." I had grown up in the system; birthdays were just another day. How could I have known she valued it more than her own life? How could I have known my father would want us all to burn with her? He shoved me toward the roaring fire. My hair and clothes caught instantly, the pain all-consuming. "You lying bitch!" he spat, his voice thick with hate. "Still making excuses! Kaley is dead, and you will pay for it!" He grabbed a can of gasoline and doused me with it. The fire exploded around me, silencing my screams forever. All their apologies when they first found me, all their promises that they loved both me and Kaley as their daughters—they were all lies. I had been a fool to believe that blood meant love. Back in the present, I forced myself to be calm. The fire was intensifying, and the heat was becoming unbearable for both of us. As Martha coughed, distracted for a split second, I wrenched my arm free and ran. Adrenaline surged through me, a primal need to survive overriding everything else. I burst out of the mansion's front doors and collapsed onto the manicured lawn. As I gasped for the cool, fresh air, tears of relief and terror streamed down my face. This time, I would live. No matter what. I scrambled to my feet and spotted my phone lying on the flagstones where it had fallen. I snatched it up, ready to dial again. But in the next instant, a hand clamped around my ankle, and I was dragged back down to the ground. 3 Martha was pulling me back toward the burning house. The other servants, huddled at a safe distance on the lawn, stared in shock. "Miss Sophie! Why are you still in there? Did you call 911?" one of them shouted. "Martha, what are you doing?" The servants weren't allowed to carry phones during their shifts. I was the only one who could call for help. With all my remaining strength, I hurled my phone toward them. It landed in the soft grass. "Martha's trying to kill me!" I screamed. "Help me! Call 911! She has explosives on her! We'll all die if you don't call now!" The part about explosives was a lie, a desperate gamble to sow panic. It worked. One of the maids snatched up my phone while others started to scatter. "Explosives? I'm calling the police!" "Run! Everybody run!" "Martha, have you gone mad? What have Mr. and Mrs. Cooper ever done to you but be kind?" Seeing her plan unravel, Martha finally let go of my ankle. "What explosives? Don't listen to her lies!" she yelled, her voice frantic. "She's just jealous of Miss Kaley! She's trying to make a scene so Mr. Cooper will come back for her instead of celebrating with his real daughter!" She tried to sound convincing. "Don't you dare call the police! The fire isn't even that bad! If I had explosives, would I be standing right here?" Her words hit their mark. The maid holding my phone hesitated, her hand lowering. "So it's just a rivalry." "Maybe Miss Sophie started the fire herself!" "Why would she even try to compete with Miss Kaley? She's been part of this family for eighteen years." "If I were Mr. Cooper, I'd prefer Kaley too. She's so much prettier, more elegant—more like a true heiress than Sophie ever will be." I watched them, a wave of despair washing over me. Our mansion was in the hills, isolated from our neighbors. If no one called for help, no one would know until it was too late. Just then, a loud BOOM erupted from inside the house. 4 Something had exploded. It wasn't massive, but it was enough to send another wave of fear through me. I tried to crawl further away, but Martha lunged and grabbed me again. I locked eyes with the servants on the lawn. "The house is exploding!" I cried out. "It's a smart home, full of electronics and batteries! If you don't call for help now, the whole place could go up like a bomb!" My voice cracked with desperation. "I'm not trying to compete with Kaley! Please, just call 911! The fire is what matters!" Martha tightened her grip, dragging me again. "So a battery exploded? Big deal! Get back in there with me, Miss Sophie. You don't want your father to come home and find you did nothing, do you?" The other servants just watched us, their faces blank. My heart sank. They wouldn't help. Not when it meant choosing a side. And Martha was dead set on me dying in this fire. Suddenly, a high-pitched buzzing sound cut through the roar of the flames. A drone! Someone flying it for landscape shots must have seen the smoke! I threw my hand up, waving frantically at the small machine hovering in the sky. "HELP ME!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "PLEASE, CALL THE POLICE! SHE'S TRYING TO KILL ME!" I prayed it had a microphone, prayed its owner could hear me. Before I could say more, Martha clamped a hand over my mouth and swatted at the drone with her other hand. It nimbly ascended, just out of her reach. The owner had to have seen that. Would they help? Martha released my mouth, her hand pressing into the small of my back as she whispered menacingly in my ear. "What nonsense are you spouting, young lady?" A sick, triumphant smile spread across her face. "No one is trying to kill you. You'll simply die a hero, trying to save the house. They might even give you a medal for it." Her voice was pure venom. "It doesn't matter what you say now. Those fools on the lawn will believe anything. You're going to die, and when you do, Miss Kaley will be the one and only daughter of this house. You'll never compete with her again." She admitted it. A tremor ran through my body. She was doing this for Kaley. But why? She was a well-paid housekeeper. My father had helped her son get a job, even bought him a house. Why would she risk everything for Kaley? Just then, my phone, still lying on the grass, began to ring. The maid who had it shouted, "Miss Sophie, it's your father!" He must have finished his speech. I didn't care anymore if Kaley jumped off a building. I couldn't die like this. "Answer it!" I yelled. Martha forgot about me, lunging for the phone. I scrambled to my feet and ran for it too, finally free. In the struggle, the phone tumbled to the ground, and somehow, the call connected. "Hello?" My father's voice crackled through the speaker. It was a voice I now recognized as being laced with a faint, but permanent, thread of annoyance. "Sophie. We're celebrating your sister's eighteenth birthday tonight. You'll have to eat dinner by yourself." I was about to scream for help, but Martha beat me to it, snatching the phone. "Don't you worry, Mr. Cooper. We're taking good care of the young miss." "Good," he said dismissively, ready to hang up. Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the mansion behind us. "What was that?" my father’s voice shot back, sharp with alarm.
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