Blaze of Betrayal, Rebirth of Love

From the back cover

The lingering smell of lilies and expensive cologne wasn't what I expected on my wedding day, not after the reek of gasoline and burning flesh that had been my last memory.

My thirty-year marriage to Olivia ended in a blaze, not of passion, but of pure, unadulterated hatred, as she and our son watched me burn alive in my hospital bed.

"Alex and I could have lived happily ever after!" Olivia shrieked, her face a mask of venom. "James isn' t your son. You were just the pathetic fool who paid for everything!" Then she dropped the lighter.

The world erupted in agony, a searing pain consuming every nerve. Why? That was my last thought as I watched them walk away, their silhouettes framed by the flames devouring me.

Then a violent jolt. The pain was gone. I was standing, healthy, in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, staring at my thirty-years-younger self in a gilded mirror. It was my wedding night. I was alive, I was young, and I was back at the very beginning of the nightmare.

Olivia' s frantic voice pierced the air, "Alex, no! Don' t do this!" Alex Peterson – her childhood sweetheart, the name now echoing with the fresh horror of her final confession.

When she saw me, her face contorted. "This is your fault! If you hadn' t forced this wedding, he wouldn' t be threatening to jump from a cliff!"

Mr. Sterling, the man I had revered my entire life, urged me to proceed. "You are the future of this company." His words once meant everything, now they felt hollow, part of a gilded cage.

SLAP! Her hand across my face, "You' re nothing. Just the charity case my father pitied."

I remembered it all: the thirty years of misery, her crushing remarks, her coldness, the son who looked at me with a stranger' s eyes. I had poured my life into his company, paid my debt with my work, my love, and finally, my death. Never again.

The organ music began. I stood at the altar, looked at Olivia, then at Mr. Sterling. I thought of the fire, the betrayal.

My voice clear and steady, ringing through the silent church, I said, "No."