A Bride Forged in Fire

From the back cover

The scent of gasoline and burning silk was the last thing I knew on my wedding day.

Flames danced around me, illuminating my new husband, Liam Thompson, my stepbrother, as he clutched a locket with my stepmother Sarah' s picture.

"You ruined it all, Ava," he sneered, his face contorted with a hatred I' d never imagined.

He carved Sarah' s name into my skin and then forced the locket down my throat, piece by agonizing piece.

The suffocation, the searing pain, the betrayal-they were a twisted sacrament to a love I was only just beginning to comprehend, a love that would consume us all.

Then, darkness.

I awoke to the antiseptic smell of my familiar bedroom, sunlight streaming through the window.

Downstairs, Liam' s frantic yelling and Sarah' s feigned sobs echoed from below, a chilling replay of the day my life ended before.

It was real. I was back.

Back to the day of the incident, the day my father signed away my future to protect his pride, the day I walked like a prisoner to my own execution.

The humiliation, the pain, the fire-never again.

A sharp knock on my door. It was Sophia, my "best friend," feigning concern, ready to lead me into the trap.

"Ava? Are you in there? Something terrible is happening downstairs!" she called.

But this time, I wouldn't be the victim.

I smiled, a cold, sharp curve on my lips. "A Céleste purse like that is more important. You deserve it."

As her footsteps faded down the hall, racing for a status symbol, I knew this was my chance.

Let the real performance begin.