Jealousy Burns

We're releasing balloons on Christmas Eve when Milton Jenning's lover deliberately sets off fireworks. They explode on me, burning me severely.

My back, already torn and raw from skin grafts for her, becomes even more of a bloodied mess.

However, I don't ask Milton for help. Instead, I shield a recently reunited heir of a wealthy family beneath me, risking everything to save him.

In my past life, Milton kicked me in the back and told me not to stand in the way of him taking his lover to the hospital.

"Is it funny to you to use a child as a cover, Larissa? Even if you're pregnant, you and your baby are just walking skin providers for Rita! I must've spoiled you—how dare you do something as heinous as this!"

I was blacklisted by all hospitals and ended up dying while pregnant. My heart was filled with hatred as I breathed my last breath.

When I open my eyes again, I see Rita Atkinson secretly aim fireworks at the night sky and set them off. I hear her laugh manically as she says, "You and your child can die together!"

The moment the fireworks collided with the hydrogen balloon, I was instantly swallowed by a roaring blaze.

Thick, choking smoke stung my lungs, which made breathing almost impossible. I forced myself to stay calm despite the searing pain in my lower abdomen and back.

"Larissa… it hurts so much…"

Following the faint cry for help, I spotted Oliver Patton collapsed in a pool of blood. He was clutching his chest in agony.

The eldest grandson of the Patton family—he had recently returned home after being kidnapped. He was just a child.

While dragging my heavy body forward, I shielded him with my own. I knew how fragile he was, especially with his heart condition.

"It's okay. I'm here." I pulled out one of my earrings and stabbed it into my thigh to stay conscious, my voice soft as I comforted him. "I won't let anything happen to you."

My hands froze mid-CPR when a luxury car suddenly sped toward us.

The door flew open, slamming into me and knocking me aside. The man who rushed out straight toward Rita Atkinson was none other than my husband, Milton Jenning.

Even though he saw his wife covered in blood, he didn't hesitate for a second.

He rushed to Rita's side and held her in his arms, inspecting her from head to toe. In this second life of mine, his heart still belonged entirely to someone else.

The burning pain in my abdomen flared—like a snake made of fire sinking its fangs into me.

From behind me, the sickening scent of burnt flesh filled the air. The wound from before hadn't healed, and now it was worse. Cold sweat dripped down my face.

"Mr. Jenning! Mrs. Jenning is bleeding badly!"

His assistant panicked, instinctively running toward me with a bandage in hand.

But Milton stopped him with a look of pure disgust.