chapter -2 Reborn to burn them all

Chapter -2 Reborn to burn them all

The first thing she felt was the cold.

Not the numbing, soul-splintering chill of a concrete floor soaked in her blood—but the sterile, clinical cold of air conditioning in a medical room.

Her lashes fluttered open.

Fluorescent lights glared above, white and pitiless. A heart monitor beeped steadily beside her. The sting of antiseptic and faint lavender clung to the air. Soft footsteps echoed, distant.

Anya Williams lay still on the bed, a saline line dripping into her veins.

Then her breath hitched.

Her hands—they were free.

She sat up fast, breath short.

No pain. No bruises. No broken skin.

Her wrists were smooth.

No chains.

Her chest rose and fell in shallow waves.

The nurse at the cabinet turned, startled. "Miss Williams! Don't get up—you fainted during Student Council prep. You've been under a lot of stress. We think it's exhaustion—"

The words blurred.

Student Council prep?

That voice. That uniform. The way her sleeves hung too loosely—

Anya's pulse roared in her ears.

No.

No, this couldn't be.

She stumbled to the wall, hands trembling as she gripped the edge of a glossy event calendar.

May 12th. Year: Ten years ago.

Her vision blurred.

The same day.

Ten days before the fake breakup. Ten days before Aaron and Alina twisted the knife. Ten days before her world collapsed.

And in that moment—

Chains clinking. Her voice hoarse from screaming. Aaron's smirk above her, stained with lies. Her uncle's hand going still in hers. A gavel slamming in the courtroom.

—she remembered everything.

The monitor beeped faster.

Her legs gave out—but she caught herself on the counter, eyes lifting to the mirror.

The girl staring back had unscarred skin, wide eyes untouched by agony, lips still pink with innocence.

She looked seventeen.

She was seventeen.

"No... no…" Her voice cracked.

Her knees buckled.

But the sob that escaped wasn't fear.

It was grief.

And rage.

Memories surged—blistering.

Aaron's smug laugh as he showed her that cursed video.

Alina's poisonous smile in the courtroom.

Her uncle's body, cold in a hospital bed.

Ethan's haunted eyes.

Ryan's name carved in stone.

All because she had believed them.

Because she hadn't known.

She wept—not for herself.

But for the girl who had knelt in chains, begging love to save her.

Never again.

Her hands curled into fists.

This time, she wouldn't be the prey.

She would be the game master.

---

She drifted through the polished halls of Eastwood Elite like a ghost.

The world hadn't changed.

But she had.

The whispers started instantly.

"She passed out again? Weak."

"Why is she even the secretary? She's just a freshman."

"She's probably clinging to Ryan to keep the position."

Each word struck like a blade.

Once, they would've drawn blood.

Now?

Just noise.

She had died.

She had risen.

And cowards didn't scare her anymore.

As she rounded the courtyard, three upper-year boys lounged by the lockers. Their eyes followed her—mocking, expectant.

She tried to pass.

One blocked her path. "Hey, Secretary. Back from your beauty nap?"

She stopped. "Move."

He smirked. "We've got some student complaints... maybe you can handle them personally."

Another reached for her.

She moved faster.

Her hand snapped around his wrist and twisted hard.

He yelped, stumbling back.

The other two stared.

Not with mockery.

With fear.

She stepped in, voice like ice. "Touch me again, and I'll break more than your pride."

They said nothing.

She walked away.

Behind her, one muttered, "She's changed."

Damn right, she had.

They weren't worth the storm she was brewing.

Let them talk.

Soon, they'd beg to forget her name

At home, Anya sat in silence in her old bedroom.

Pink curtains. Neatly made bed. Posters of dreams she'd buried.

It all felt like a stranger's life.

She scanned the photos on her desk—Ryan's bright smile. Ethan, arms around her.

They were alive.

For now.

Her fingers brushed the frame.

She would protect them.

This time, she wouldn't fail.

She grabbed a notepad.

Aaron Blake. Alina Moore.

She underlined the names.

Then added the rest:

Shield Ethan before the frame-up.

Save her uncle from corporate sabotage.

Free Ryan from Alina's web.

Uncover her parents' real killer.

Build power—enough to crush the Blake and Moore families.

Fire alone won't win this war.

She needed allies. Knowledge. Influence.

They had tried to destroy her.

They had only forged her.

Anya stood, facing the mirror.

Her reflection stared back—not a girl.

But a storm.

> "I remember everything," she whispered.

A tear slid down her cheek.

Then she smiled.

Cold. Certain. Unforgiving.

> "This time, I'll play the game—

but by my rules."