The Girl Who Burned and Rose

I'd been Liam's secret girlfriend for seven years, even carrying his child, only to hear he was proposing to his first love.

For a fake scratch on her arm, he shoved me, sending me crashing into the corner of a table.

I lost our baby, and almost bled to death.

He slapped me, his voice chilling.

You're a truly wicked woman. I must have been blind to ever love you.

Later, swayed by his first love's lies, he drove my mother to her death and let my brother suffer such severe bullying that he jumped from the school building.

And I was locked in a mansion, consumed by a raging inferno.

Everyone thought I was dead.

Until three years later, I returned with a new identity, arm-in-arm with my fianc.

He knelt in the pouring rain, begging for my forgiveness, offering me his life and his entire fortune.

I barely glanced at him, then turned and took my fianc's hand. "Mr. Maxwell, your life or death means nothing to me."

SUMMER'S POV

I was backstage at Maxwell Group's 10th Anniversary Gala, in the lounge.

I was half-kneeling, meticulously smoothing the wrinkles from Liam Maxwell's suit hem. This custom-tailored suit? I'd spent three sleepless nights hand-stitching it for him.

Liam looked down at me, his deep eyes filled with tenderness.

He reached out, gently cupped my chin. His thumb brushed over my lips, his voice low and husky. "I'm skipping the celebration party tonight. Wait for me at the apartment, okay?"

My cheeks flushed, and I nodded obediently.

I instinctively touched the thin paper in my pocket. The pregnancy test results I'd gotten this morning.

Seven years. I'd been Liam's secret girlfriend, hidden from the world, for seven long years. Today, I could finally claim my rightful place in his life and build a family with him.

"Mr. Maxwell, everything's ready. It's time for your speech." Adam, his assistant, respectfully urged from outside the door.

Liam leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss on my forehead. "Be a good girl and wait for me."

Watching his tall figure disappear behind the door, my heart swelled with sweetness. I walked to the corner where a broadcast screen was set up, watching the radiant man on stage.

Liam stood under the spotlight, delivering his speech calmly. The room below was packed with business elites and media reporters.

As his speech neared its end, the host joked, "Billionaire Mr. Liam, the rumors say you've been single for seven years, a true workaholic. With the joy of our 10th anniversary, perhaps you could share a little about your personal life?"

It was meant to be a lighthearted joke to lighten the mood.

But Liam on the screen suddenly fell silent.

His intense gaze swept past the sea of faces, landing precisely on the VIP seat in the very front row.

His usually stern lips softened, curving into an incredibly tender smile.

"It's true, I've been single for seven years," Liam said into the microphone, his voice deep and firm, echoing through the entire hall. "Because I've been waiting for someone."

Backstage, I froze, my heart pounding uncontrollably.

What was he saying?

Single? Wasn't I his girlfriend?

"For these past seven years, I've longed for her return every single moment. Fortunately, I finally found her."

Liam snapped his fingers. The lights plunged into darkness, save for a single spotlight that dramatically illuminated the woman in the white haute couture gown in the front row.

The woman slowly stood up, turning her head to reveal a pure and radiant face.

It was Scarlett Davis. Liam's high school classmate and his passionate first love.

"Scarlett, welcome home." Liam walked off the stage. Under the shocked gazes of the entire audience, he knelt before Scarlett, pulling a dazzling, 'pigeon-egg' sized diamond ring from his pocket. "Will you marry me?"

Scarlett covered her mouth, tears of joy streaming down her face, and nodded emphatically.

Thunderous applause erupted, flashbulbs exploded, capturing the romantic scene of this once-in-a-lifetime proposal.

But backstage, I felt all the blood in my body turn to ice.

I stared at the screen in disbelief, my fingertips digging into my palms, my body trembling like a leaf in the autumn wind.

How could this be...?

Memories of the past seven years flashed wildly through my mind.

He refused to post about me on social media, refused to introduce me to any family or friends. Every time I brought up making our relationship public, he would hold me, soothing me with a helpless tone. "Summer, my circle is too complicated. I don't want those people bothering you. I want to keep you safe."

I believed him.

I thought it was deep love, protection.

Turns out, he was just biding his time, waiting for another woman's return.

SUMMER'S POV

The gala ended, and the backstage area gradually emptied.

The lounge door opened, and Liam walked in, loosening his tie, a lingering smile still on his face.

Seeing me standing in the shadows, he paused, then his brow furrowed, returning to his usual cold demeanor.

"You saw it all," he said calmly, as if discussing something trivial.

I stared at him, my eyes red, my voice trembling uncontrollably. "Liam, what about me? What was I to you?"

Liam walked to the sofa and sat down, pouring himself a glass of water. "Summer, I was going to tell you this tomorrow. Scarlett is back, and I'm going to marry her."

"What about my seven years?!" I couldn't control myself anymore, screaming hysterically.

Liam put down his glass, his eyes turning cold. "Don't make a scene. Even after I get married, nothing between us has to change. I'll buy you a house in the upscale neighborhood, complete with a driver and housekeeper. As long as you don't bother Scarlett, you can buy whatever you want; you can use my credit card as much as you like."

I felt like I'd been struck by lightning, staring in disbelief at the man I had loved for seven years.

"You want me to be your kept woman?"

Liam's frown deepened, seemingly displeased by the term. "With me around, no one would dare say that to you. Scarlett's health is fragile; she can't handle any stress. Be sensible."

I suddenly laughed, tears streaming down my face.

I reached into my pocket, feeling the crumpled pregnancy test results.

"Liam, you disgust me."

The air in the lounge seemed to solidify.

Liam's face instantly darkened. He shot up, grabbing my wrist, his grip so tight it felt like my bones would shatter.

"Summer Miller, have I indulged you too much, made you forget your place?"

I gasped in pain, but stubbornly lifted my chin, biting my lip to keep from begging.

Just then, the sound of heels approached from outside the door.

"Liam, are you in there?" Scarlett's sickly sweet voice floated in.

Liam's expression shifted. He immediately let go of me, giving me a warning glare. "Keep your mouth shut."

The door pushed open, and Scarlett walked in, adjusting her dress. Seeing me, she feigned surprise, covering her mouth. "Oh, my, who is she?"

"Backstage staff," Liam lied without a flicker of expression, pulling Scarlett into his arms. His voice instantly became incredibly gentle. "Why didn't you wait in the car? It's chaotic backstage, don't trip."

Scarlett leaned into his embrace compliantly, but her gaze flickered over his shoulder, landing on my pale face with a triumphant smirk.

"This young lady doesn't look well, is she sick?" Scarlett's lips curved into a malicious smile.

My stomach churned, and I couldn't stand another second. I turned and stumbled out of the lounge.

Returning to the apartment we'd shared for five years, I moved like a ghost, mechanically pulling out a suitcase and starting to pack.

Everywhere were traces of our life together. Our matching coffee mugs, the sofa we'd picked out together, his razor still in the bathroom...

Each item now felt like a knife twisting in my heart.

I didn't take anything but a few of my old clothes and my identification documents.

The next morning, as I was about to leave with my suitcase, the apartment door lock suddenly turned.

It wasn't Liam who entered, but Scarlett.

She strutted in on ten-centimeter heels, like a victor surveying the apartment, finally letting her gaze fall on my suitcase, and let out a sneer.

"Glad you know your place and when to leave."

SUMMER'S POV

I looked at her coldly. "How did you get in?"

"Liam gave me the code, of course," Scarlett said, walking to the sofa and sitting down, playing with her freshly manicured nails.

"Summer Miller, you don't actually believe Liam loves you, do you? You were just a placeholder, a plaything to keep him amused when I wasn't around."

I clenched my fists. "Are you done? If so, get out."

Scarlett's face changed. She shot up and walked toward me. "How dare you speak to me like that? Do you think I can't ruin you in this city with a single word?"

"That's your problem. Move!" I didn't want to argue with her. I grabbed my suitcase, ready to leave.

But Scarlett grabbed my arm, her eyes suddenly turning wild.

"You think you can just walk away? Not so fast!"

She suddenly picked up a fruit knife from the coffee table and, without hesitation, slashed a long cut on her forearm.

Blood instantly welled up.

I was stunned. "Are you insane?!"

Just then, the apartment door opened again. Liam strode in.

"It hurts! Liam, save me!" Scarlett immediately dropped the knife, clutching her bleeding arm, and collapsed to the floor, sobbing dramatically.

Liam's eyes blazed with fury at the sight.

He rushed over, shoving me aside.

"Summer Miller, you're dead!"

Liam shoved me with all his might. Already weak, I lost my balance and fell backward with a heavy thud.

Thud!

My lower abdomen slammed violently into the sharp corner of the marble coffee table before I hit the floor.

A searing, tearing pain ripped through my abdomen, as if something was being forcefully ripped from my body.

"It hurts so much..." I curled up on the floor, cold sweat instantly soaking my clothes.

I felt a warm liquid trickle down my thighs, staining the white carpet red.

"Liam... the baby... save our baby..." I trembled, reaching out, trying to grab Liam's pant leg.

But Liam didn't even spare me a glance.

His eyes were fixed on the wound on Scarlett's arm. He carefully scooped Scarlett into his arms, his voice trembling. "Scarlett, don't be scared, I'll take you to the hospital right away!"

He carried Scarlett, stepping right over my body, and rushed out the door.

"Liam..."

I stared desperately at the door as it slammed shut, my vision gradually blurring.

More and more blood flowed from beneath me, like blooming red roses.

I completely succumbed to the darkness.

The hospital, the harsh smell of disinfectant.

When I woke up, the room was empty, only the stark white fluorescent light above pricking my eyes.

A nurse came in to change my IV, and seeing my eyes open, she sighed. "You're awake. The kind person who brought you in has left. Summer Miller, you must be strong. The baby didn't make it. You hit too hard, and your uterus was severely damaged. In the future... it will likely be very difficult for you to have children."

The nurse's words struck me like a thunderbolt, shattering me to pieces.

I stared blankly at the ceiling, not crying, not screaming, just feeling as though my entire heart had been hollowed out, every breath tasting like blood.

Seven years of my youth, exchanged for a dead child and a broken body.

I reached for my phone on the bedside table. The screen was clean. Liam hadn't called, hadn't sent a single message.

I tapped open our chat on Snapchat, my fingers trembling as I typed a single sentence:

"It's over."

SUMMER'S POV

After sending the message, I immediately blocked Liam's number and all his contact information.

After three days in the hospital, I discharged myself against the doctor's advice.

I couldn't collapse. I'm a fashion designer, and next month is the final round of the "Golden Apex Award," the industry's highest honor.

My collection, 'Phoenix Rising,' which I'd poured my heart and soul into for three years, was my only chance at a comeback. If I won the Golden Apex Award, I could secure top-tier funding, launch my own independent brand, and completely break free from my past.

I dragged my weak body back to my studio, opened my laptop, and logged onto the Golden Apex Award's official website to check the finalists' list.

However, the moment the page loaded, my blood ran cold.

The very first entry on the list prominently featured my signature design.

But the name beneath the artwork wasn't Summer Miller.

It was Scarlett!

My mind went blank, and all the blood rushed to my head.

I frantically searched for my design drafts, locked in the safe. It's empty! Completely empty!

The only other person who knew the safe's combination was Liam!

My eyes burned with fury. I hailed a taxi and sped straight to Maxwell Group Headquarters.

Ignoring the security guards' attempts to stop me, I stormed up to the top floor and kicked open Liam's office door.

Liam was sitting behind his large desk, reviewing files. Seeing me burst in, his brow furrowed, and he waved away the security guards who were about to intervene.

"Are you done making a scene?" Liam's voice was impatient. "Blocking me, and now running to the office to cause chaos. Summer Miller, your tactics are getting desperate."

I rushed to his desk, bracing my hands on the surface, my voice raw, like sandpaper. "Why did you give my 'Phoenix Rising' designs to Scarlett?!"

Liam paused, his hand still on the files, then looked up, his eyes devoid of any warmth.

"Scarlett just returned to the country, preparing to enter the fashion industry. She needs a prestigious award to make a name for herself."

He spoke flatly, as if he'd merely taken a piece of my clothing, not three years of my life's work.

"That's my work! I spent countless nights drawing those designs!" My body trembled, and tears finally streamed down my face. "Liam, this is theft! This is plagiarism!"

Hearing the word "plagiarism," Liam's face completely darkened.

"Watch your tone," he said coldly. "Scarlett's hand was injured because of you; she can't even hold a pen now. I gave her a few of your rough sketches to use, consider it your apology to her."

"Apology?" I laughed, a harsh, tearing sound, tears streaming down my face. "She cut herself, and you want me to apologize? Liam, do you know that day I..."

I miscarried. Our baby was gone.

The words died on my lips.

What was the point of telling a heartless bastard like him? He only cared about the small cut on Scarlett's hand.

"I won't let you get away with this," I gritted out, word by word. "I'll submit all my creative records and original materials to the committee. I'll expose Scarlett for plagiarism!"

Liam's eyes narrowed. He shot up, grabbing my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

"Summer Miller, I'm warning you, don't play hard to get. As long as you keep quiet, you can fill out this check however you want." He flung a blank check at my face. "But if you dare lay a finger on Scarlett, I promise, you won't survive in this city!"

The check fluttered lightly to the floor.

I looked at this familiar yet unfamiliar face, and suddenly felt utterly disgusted.

"Liam, I'll see you in court."

I roughly slapped his hand away and turned, walking out with unwavering resolve.

SUMMER'S POV

I returned to my studio and copied all my 'Phoenix Rising' inspiration, fabric procurement records, and scanned first drafts from my computer onto a flash drive.

I would take these irrefutable proofs directly to the Golden Apex Award committee headquarters.

Just as I walked out of the studio building, a black, unmarked van suddenly screeched to a halt in front of me.

The sliding door burst open, and several burly men in masks rushed out. Without a word, they grabbed the bag from my hand.

"What are you doing! This is robbery!" I struggled, but one of the men shoved me hard to the ground.

The contents of my bag scattered. The man precisely picked up the flash drive, then respectfully handed it to a woman who stepped out of a Porsche behind the van.

Scarlett, wearing sunglasses and high heels, looked down at me, sprawled on the ground.

She played with the flash drive in her hand, a mocking smile on her lips. "Summer Miller, you're truly naive. Did you really think Liam would let you hand these things over?"

My palm was scraped, oozing blood. I glared at Scarlett. "Give it back to me!"

"Give it back to you?" Scarlett sneered, then threw the flash drive on the ground, grinding her sharp heel onto it.

Snap! The flash drive shattered into pieces.

"Here, Liam is power. You think you can fight him? You're practically asking to die," Scarlett said, taking off her sunglasses, her eyes vicious. "Not only will I take your designs, but I'll also ruin your reputation, making you a pariah who can never recover!"

With that, she turned and got into the Porsche, driving away.

I knelt on the ground, staring despairingly at the scattered shards.

I had underestimated Liam's cruelty, and Scarlett's shamelessness.

Less than two hours later, the online outrage exploded.

Scarlett's PR team launched a pre-emptive strike, playing the victim, publishing a lengthy post across all major social media platforms.

In the post, Scarlett tearfully accused an unknown designer named "Ms. Shen" of long-term stalking and harassing billionaire Liam, delusional about marrying into wealth. Now, this "Ms. Shen" was reportedly twisting the facts, attempting to steal her painstakingly created 'Phoenix Rising' design series.

To add credibility, the post included a few blurry photos. In the photos, I was seen "bothering" Liam outside Maxwell Group headquarters, while Liam's face was cold and indifferent.

Maxwell Group's official X account retweeted the post, with a single word: "Investigate."

This was essentially an official stamp on my "crimes."

In an instant, the entire internet erupted.

"Oh my god, this woman is shameless! Failed mistress now trying to steal someone's work?"

"Scarlett is a brilliant graduate from a top international university, why would she need to plagiarize some nobody from a no-name school?"

"Doxx her! Get this wicked woman out of the design world!"

My personal information, phone number, and even my studio address were dug up in less than half a day.

My phone vibrated incessantly, bombarded with vicious hate messages, every call filled with obscenities.

The glass door of my studio was smashed by extreme netizens, red paint splattered inside, and the walls were covered with blood-red graffiti like "Die, mistress!" and "Plagiarist scumbag!"

I hid in my unlit apartment, trembling uncontrollably.

Just then, my brother Ethan called.

As soon as I answered, his choked sob came through. "Summer... is what they're saying online true?"