(Over 1,000 words | Elise's POV)
The city was quieter than usual, or maybe Elise's mind had tuned out the chaos after the emotionally charged dinner with Adrian Blackwell. The weight of her revenge plan settled heavier on her shoulders now that she'd gotten closer to him. Closer than she ever had in her first life.
She leaned her head against the cool window of her private car as it rolled toward her penthouse. The glow of streetlights slid across her face in intervals, exposing flashes of thought behind her dark eyes. She hadn't expected Adrian to be so… curious. There was calculation in his gaze, but something else lingered too. Interest. Maybe even attraction.
Good. That would make it easier to twist the knife later.
When she finally arrived at the glass-and-stone tower she now called home, the doorman greeted her with the same respectful nod, but Elise barely acknowledged him. Her stilettos clicked along the polished marble lobby floor. A calm rhythm. A confident one.
But that rhythm stuttered as soon as she opened the door to her apartment.
Something was wrong.
The living room was exactly how she'd left it—minimalist, elegant, spotless. But the silence was too silent. The air held tension, like a held breath waiting to be exhaled.
Elise dropped her keys on the hallway console, her eyes narrowing.
Then she saw it.
A silver ring on her coffee table.
A man's ring.
Her spine stiffened. Slowly, she stepped inside and turned toward the shadowed lounge. The city lights filtered through the sheer curtains—just enough to outline the silhouette of someone seated on the arm of her leather couch.
She didn't scream.
She didn't flinch.
Instead, she crossed her arms and said coldly, "You shouldn't be here."
The man stood, stepping into the dim light.
Tyler Vaughn.
The name alone once made her heart race. Not anymore.
He had aged—his once-boyish charm replaced by a ruggedness she barely recognized. But those eyes—deep hazel, always too good at seeing through her—were unmistakable.
"Elise," he said, a little breathless, as though her presence still had power over him. "You look… different."
"I died and came back," she replied flatly. "That tends to change a woman."
He blinked at her words. She didn't clarify. Let him wonder.
"I saw the news," Tyler said, gesturing toward the silent TV on the wall. "The acquisition. The dinner with Adrian Blackwell. You're not just back… you're gunning for the throne."
Elise arched a brow. "And you thought you should break into my home because of that?"
"I didn't break in," he said quickly. "Your assistant let me up. I told her we were old friends."
"She should be fired," Elise muttered.
Tyler stepped closer. "I just wanted to see you."
"No, Tyler. You wanted to see if I'm still the girl you left behind."
He winced. She liked that.
"Elise, I was wrong—"
"No," she cut in, stepping forward, eyes sharp like blades. "You were a coward. You watched Liam humiliate me, let Tiffany twist every lie around me, and then you left. You didn't defend me. You didn't even call."
"I wanted to—"
"But you didn't."
Her voice echoed, brittle and cold.
Tyler lowered his gaze, guilt darkening his features. "I wasn't strong enough back then. I didn't know how to stand up to them."
"And now?" she asked, tilting her head. "You think you can waltz back into my life because I'm no longer the naive little girl looking for someone to save her?"
He flinched again.
She smiled—but it was the kind of smile that cut. "I'm the storm now, Tyler. And I don't need saving. Least of all from you."
He stared at her, searching for a crack in her armor.
There were none.
"I didn't come to hurt you," he said at last. "I came to ask… what are you doing, Elise? Are you really trying to take down Blackwell, Tiffany, and Liam? Because that path—it'll destroy you."
Elise laughed quietly. "Funny. Dying once already taught me that nothing's more destructive than staying silent."
Tyler stepped back.
And that was when she saw it—the flicker of fear in his eyes.
Not fear of her failing.
Fear of her succeeding.
"I'll leave," he said, his voice suddenly subdued. "But if you ever need someone—"
"I won't."
She opened the door. The unspoken signal.
Tyler hesitated in the doorway, as if trying to summon the courage to say something more, something that might bring the past back to life.
But Elise had already buried it.
When the door finally shut, she leaned against it, alone again in the silence.
Her heart was steady. Cold. Focused.
This was what she'd prepared for—visits from ghosts, warnings wrapped in regret. But nothing would stop her now.
Elise Carter was reborn.
And this time, she wasn't running from the fire.
She was the fire.