I Saved You From the Fire, Now Burn in Hell

I rushed into the roaring fire to pull Ethan out, leaving myself with horrific, permanent burns.

At the hospital, Ethan swore to God: V Vivi, I will never let you suffer a single day for the rest of your life.

But the moment his new young secretary arrived, he sided with her on everything, constantly making things hard for me.

"She's just a young, innocent girl. You're being too sensitive and paranoid."

"So what if she got the wedding dress style wrong? Is that really worth firing her over?"

On our wedding day, I was locked in a dark, dusty utility room with zero cell service, unable to call for help.

Instead of looking for me, Ethan held his young secretary's hand and walked down the aisle.

Seven years of deep love, a life risked to save himand I was turned into the "other woman" in my own story.

...

"Vivian, get in here."

The text lit up my phone screen. The words practically dripped with coldness and resentment.

In all the years I'd known Ethan, this was the first time he had ever called me by my full name instead of Vivi.

As soon as I walked into his office, I ran straight into Chloe. Her eyes were red and welling with tears, looking like a fragile, kicked puppy.

"Ms. Hale, I am so, so sorry. Please just give me one more chance," she sobbed. "I didn't know you hated your burn scars so much. It was my fault!"

She was apologizing with her mouth, but her eyes were gleaming with pure provocation.

Without my permission, she had taken it upon herself to call the bridal boutique and change my long-sleeved wedding dress to an off-the-shoulder gown. Not only would it expose my horrific scars to hundreds of guests, but it was also the dead of winter, with temperatures dropping below freezing.

If the boutique hadn't sent me a confirmation photo, I would have been completely humiliated on my own wedding day.

It was a glaringly obvious trap, but Ethan refused to see it.

"Vivian, so what if she made a mistake with the dress style? Is that really worth firing her over?" Ethan's voice was sharp and accusing.

Seeing that she had a protector, Chloe cried even harder, her tears falling like perfectly timed rain.

Ethan instinctively reached for a tissue to hand to her. But maybe because he felt my burning glare, he stopped mid-motion and awkwardly sat back down.

"Chloe, go back to your desk. No one is firing you. Just focus on your work," he said, shielding her protectively.

Chloe turned to leave. As she brushed past me, she let out a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk.

"Vivian, your temper has gotten so much worse lately," Ethan sighed, rubbing his temples. "You used to be so lenient with the staff. Why are you so hostile toward Chloe?"

He was genuinely baffled. In his mind, I was just relentlessly bullying a young girl.

Ever since Chloe became his personal secretary, Ethan's attitude toward me had shifted.

Initially, he used to complain about how clumsy and incompetent she was, even asking me to fire her several times. But in just two short months, everything flipped. He started praising her constantly, his voice filled with admiration and trust. They became inseparable.

People in the office were already whispering: "Wherever Ethan Vance is, Chloe Brooks is less than five feet away."

"Are you seriously blind, Ethan? Can't you see she did this on purpose?" I demanded.

I hated arguing over these petty things, but Ethan was refusing to give me a way out.

"What kind of scheme could a young girl like her possibly have? You're just paranoid." He looked at me, his eyes suddenly darkening with doubt and a strange, twisted pain. "You hate your scars so much... Tell me, Vivian, do you regret saving me that night?"

My breath hitched.

That stormy night years ago. Ethan had gotten completely wasted at a business dinner, and I had hired a personal driver to take us home. But we hadn't driven far before the car slammed into a utility pole and caught fire. Within seconds, the vehicle was engulfed in flames.

Without a second thought for my own safety, I had dragged him out of the burning wreck.

"Boom!"

A violent explosion went off right behind us. I had shielded his body with mine, and my shoulder took the brunt of the blast, leaving me with third-degree burns. The young hired driver didn't make it out in time. He died in that fiery wreck.

Burn recovery is widely known as one of the most agonizing medical processes a person can endure.

The bandages were constantly soaked with pus and blood. To cope with the excruciating pain, I had to take massive doses of painkillers.

Seeing me in such agony, Ethan had been consumed by guilt and gratitude. He had held my hand, tears streaming down his face, and sworn: "Vivi, I'm so sorry. I caused you all this pain. I swear to God, I will never let you suffer a single day for the rest of your life. If I ever break this promise, may my life fall into ruin."

Life loves to play cruel jokes. It hands you a beautiful dream, only to crush it right before your eyes.

To protect Chloe, he was actively rubbing salt into my oldest, deepest wound.

"Seven years, Ethan. We've been together for seven years, and this is really what you think of me?" My chest ached so badly that tears finally spilled over.

We had built this company from nothing. We had starved together, struggled through the worst of times, and finally made it to the top.

Just a year ago, he had gotten down on one knee and proposed to me in front of everyone, crying like a baby.

I had always been the strong one. Seeing me cry now flustered him.

Ethan stepped forward and gently wrapped his arms around me, his tone softening.

"Vivi, don't cry. I get it. What woman doesn't want to look beautiful on her wedding day?" he murmured.

"But you have to face your scars. You can't just take your anger out on innocent people. Chloe is still young and inexperienced. There's no need to hold a grudge against a kid."

It sounded like comfort, but every single word was still defending Chloe.

A cold gel was smeared across my lower abdomen, and the ultrasound transducer slid gently over my skin.

"Congratulations, Vivian. You are eight weeks pregnant. The fetus is very healthy."

The words hit me like a shockwave. I had thought I could never be a mother.

To heal my severe burn scars back then, I had taken a massive amount of hormonal medications and heavy painkillers.

Asher Cole, my primary doctor and dermatologist, had frowned when he looked at my charts years ago, warning me that the heavy medication might leave me infertile.

I had broken down in hysterics. Ethan had held me tight, kissing away my tears. "As long as I have you, I don't care about kids. You are my only baby," he had promised.

That promise had been my anchor. But to the Vance family, it was a declaration of war.

"Ethan, you better think carefully," his father had roared when he found out about our engagement. "If you marry this woman, it means you'll have no heir. As the only son of the Vance family, you won't inherit a single dime of our estate."

His father had tried everything to tear us apart. But Ethan had stood firm. He had been willing to walk away from his entire family fortune just to marry me.

My hands shook as I dialed Ethan's number. I couldn't wait to share this miracle with him.

But when the call connected, a sweet, cloying voice answered instead.

"Hello? Vivi?" It was Chloe.

"Chloe, let me make this very clear," I snapped, refusing to play her games. "As long as you are an employee of this company, you will address me as Ms. Hale."

She paused, clearly taken aback, before putting on her usual meek tone. "Ms. Hale, is there something you need?"

"Put Ethan on the phone. I have something important to tell him."

"Oh, I'm sorry, but Mr. Vance doesn't want to take any calls right now. Especially yours," she said, letting out a soft, mocking giggle.

Before I could say another word, she hung up.

Since our last argument in his office, we had been in a cold war for an entire week. Neither of us had spoken a word, each waiting for the other to apologize.

In the past, whenever we fought, Ethan would always swallow his pride and apologize the very next day, regardless of who was at fault. He knew how stubborn I was, and he was always afraid I'd stress myself out and ruin my health.

Now, because of Chloe, he wouldn't even give me a bridge to cross.

"You're thirty years old, Vivian, not some college girl. Stop throwing tantrums."

"I suggest you drop this attitude. There's a limit to how long you can milk this."

Those were the last words he had said to me before jetting off on an out-of-town business trip with Chloe.

But life is unpredictable. Just as I was starting to seriously question my future with Ethan, this tiny new life appeared. It was as if this baby knew how desperately I, a girl who grew up in a broken home, craved a real family.

I decided to compromise for the sake of our child.

The moment Ethan saw the pregnancy report, his cold, stony face instantly melted. He wept tears of pure joy, scooping me up and spinning me around the room.

"Vivi, thank you. Thank you for making me a father."

He kissed my face repeatedly, and just like that, our relationship seemed to snap back to the way it used to be.

But the morning sickness hit me hard. I spent my days dizzy, exhausted, and nauseous.

Seeing how much I was struggling, Ethan insisted I stop going to the office. He made me stay home to rest and even hired a personal nutritionist to prepare all my meals.

Even Ethan's mother, who had treated me like dirt for years, suddenly softened her attitude. She started visiting, bringing over various expensive supplements.

But when she walked in and saw me hunched over the toilet, dry-heaving violently, her face hardened.

"You should be grateful your body could even carry a child. That's thanks to my son's good genetics, you know," she said coldly. "Stop being so dramatic. You need to eat, or the baby won't get any nutrients."

She shoved a bowl of a thick, organic homeopathic prenatal tonic under my nose. I forced myself to take two sips, but my stomach immediately revolted. I threw up everything, even coughing up yellow bile.

"Oh my god! Don't do that, it's disgusting!" his mother shrieked, backing away. "What a complete waste of expensive ingredients." She glared at me and stormed out.

The Vance family had always looked down on me. No matter how hard I worked to help Ethan build his business, in their eyes, I was just a low-class girl trying to climb the social ladder.

Ethan took a day off to accompany me to the bridal boutique for our final fitting.

Because of the pregnancy, my body had filled out, and the dress measurements needed to be adjusted.

"Does this one look better, or the other one?" I asked, looking at him for feedback.

"Yeah, both are fine," he muttered, not even looking up. His fingers were flying across his phone screen, his brow furrowed in a deep frown.

"Ethan, this is our wedding fitting. Can you please put the work away for just one hour?" I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to suppress the hormonal rage bubbling in my chest.

He finally put his phone down and tried to focus on the dresses, but within two minutes, his phone rang.

"Don't panic, Chloe. Send me your location right now. I'm coming."

"Don't cry. I'm on my way."

Ethan hung up in a panic, already standing up to leave, completely ignoring me.

I grabbed his arm, my voice shaking with suppressed anger. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Chloe said there's a stalker following her. She's terrified. I have to go help her."

"Why doesn't she call the police? You aren't her bodyguard, Ethan."

"She's a young girl, Vivian! When people are terrified, they don't think straight. She panicked and called me."

"Ethan, please. Don't go. I need you here today," I pleaded, swallowing my pride, begging him with my eyes.

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but then his phone buzzed again with a frantic text. He shook his hand free from my grip.

"Vivian, when did you become so cold and heartless?" he said, his voice dropping to a freezing temperature. "You used to be the kind of person who wouldn't even step on an ant."

He left. He chose to play the hero for Chloe.

Later, I found out Chloe had clung to him, crying about how scared she was to go home. He spent the entire night at a hotel with her, claiming he couldn't leave a traumatized girl alone.

He didn't come home that night.

On the morning of our wedding, I received a text from an unknown number:

"If you want to see the private photos of Ethan and me, come to the second-floor utility room."

The utility room was empty and dark. I walked in cautiously, using my phone flashlight to guide my way.

"Slam!"

The heavy door shut behind me, and the lock clicked. I was trapped. Dust swirled in the air, making me cough violently. I checked my phoneno service.

I had been set up.

The ceremony was starting in ten minutes. I tried to calm myself down. Once Ethan realized I was missing, he would definitely search the venue and find me. This hotel wasn't that big.

But minutes turned into an agonizing half-hour. There were no footsteps, no voices calling my name. The silence was deafening.

A cold dread settled in my stomach. I pounded on the door with all my might, screaming for help until my throat was raw.

Finally, an hour later, a housekeeping lady unlocked the door. She gasped, horrified by my pale, sweat-drenched appearance.

"Oh my goodness, dear! What happened? Why were you locked in there?"

"The wedding..." I gasped, grabbing her arm. "Is the groom still upstairs? Is everyone panicked?"

The maid looked at me with confusion and pity. "The wedding? Honey, the ceremony finished half an hour ago. The reception is in full swing upstairs."

The words felt like a physical blow. I tried to convince myself it must be another couple's wedding.

But when I stumbled up to the grand ballroom, the scene before me shattered my soul.

On the decorated stage, Chloe was wearing my custom-made wedding dress, looking like a blooming princess, holding a bouquet of white lilies.

And honestly, she looked beautiful in it. So young, so flawless.

The ballroom was packed with high-society guests. Ethan was holding Chloe's hand, walking table to table, smiling and raising his glass. They looked like the perfect, golden couple.

A sharp, stabbing pain flared in my chest. It felt like an iron band was wrapping around my heart, squeezing until I couldn't breathe.

Suddenly, a violent cramp seized my lower abdomen.

"My baby... you regret coming into this family too, don't you?"

The operating room smelled strongly of disinfectant.

"Ms. Hale, you are twelve weeks pregnant. Are you absolutely sure you want to terminate the pregnancy?" the doctor asked softly, a hint of pity in her eyes.

I nodded slowly, lying flat on the cold table, staring at the ceiling as the anesthesia began to take effect.

When I finally woke up, the door opened.

It was Asher. Ever since he treated my burns years ago, we had remained close friends.

He looked down at me, his eyes filled with heartache. "Vivi... no regrets?"

I didn't answer. He reached out and gently wiped a tear from the corner of my eye.

"Doctor, is that the baby?" I turned my head, pointing to the silver tray nearby.

It was so tiny. Just a small, silent mass of tissue, but I could already trace the faint, delicate shape of a face. It looked just like Ethan.

I carefully wrapped the sterile container in tissue and placed it inside a small, elegant white gift box.

"Be good, sweetie. Mommy is going to take you to see your father and your grandparents."