“Your mother’s study is going to catch fire tonight.”

Alexander’s voice trembled through the telephone.

“And Evelyn… someone inside your house is going to start it.”

I stood frozen beside my mother’s desk, holding the receiver so tightly that my fingers turned white.

“What are you talking about?”

“Listen carefully. At exactly 11:47 tonight, a fire will begin in the eastern wing of Rosewood Manor.”

My heart pounded.

“How could you possibly know that?”

Silence.

Then Alexander whispered something that made my blood run cold.

“Because I’ve already watched you die in that house once.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

I had died on a rain-soaked road.

I remembered every second.

Nathaniel standing beneath his umbrella.

Sophia wearing my mother’s necklace.

Alexander holding my hand as the world disappeared.

But a fire?

In this house?

“Alexander, what do you mean?”

“There’s something I haven’t told you.”

“Then tell me now.”

“I will. But first, you need to get your mother’s documents out of that study.”

I glanced at the green folder lying open on the desk.

Margaret Ellis was still sitting across from me.

She watched my expression with growing concern.

“Who starts the fire?” I demanded.

Alexander hesitated.

“I don’t know who physically lights it.”

“But you know why.”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me.”

His answer came slowly.

“Because someone is afraid of what your mother left behind.”

A chill traveled down my spine.

I looked at the letter Margaret had discovered.

My mother’s handwriting.

Nathaniel’s name.

And those four mysterious words.

“He knows about Alexander.”

Suddenly, the past seemed far more dangerous than I remembered.

“Alexander,” I whispered, “did you come back too?”

The line went completely silent.

“Alexander?”

Finally, he spoke.

“Don’t ask me that over the telephone.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know who might be listening.”

Then he added, “I’m coming to Rosewood Manor. Don’t trust anyone with those papers until I arrive.”

The line disconnected.

I remained motionless.

Margaret stood.

“Miss Rosewood?”

I slowly lowered the receiver.

“Something terrible is going to happen tonight.”

She frowned.

“What kind of terrible?”

I looked toward the window.

Outside, the summer sky was bright and peaceful.

There wasn’t a cloud in sight.

“A fire.”

Margaret stared at me.

“How could you know that?”

I swallowed.

“Because someone just warned me.”

She studied my face for a long moment.

Then she closed her briefcase.

“Well, if someone is threatening this house, we should call the police.”

I almost laughed.

It was such a reasonable suggestion.

In my first life, I would have done exactly that.

But how could I explain a fire that hadn’t happened?

How could I tell the police that my mother’s former acquaintance remembered a future in which I had already died?

And how could I explain that I remembered dying too?

“First,” I said, “we need to move the documents.”

***

By noon, Margaret and I had packed every important file from my mother’s study into three leather cases.

Trust agreements.

Land deeds.

Personal correspondence.

Bank statements.

And the mysterious letter addressed to Alexander.

I arranged for the documents to be delivered to Margaret’s law office, where they would be secured in a fireproof records room.

But there was one thing I kept.

My mother’s final letter.

I couldn’t explain why.

Perhaps because it was the only thing I had left that might reveal what happened during her final months.

Or perhaps because I was terrified that if I let it out of my sight, someone would make it disappear.

At one o’clock, Alexander arrived.

Mrs. Harper announced him with her usual calm professionalism.

But when I entered the front hall, I immediately knew something was wrong.

Alexander looked exhausted.

His dark hair was slightly disheveled.

His jacket hung open.

And there was a small cut across his knuckles.

He had never looked less like the composed Alexander Whitmore I remembered.

“Evelyn.”

He crossed the hall toward me.

His eyes searched my face.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Did you move the files?”

“Yes.”

Relief flashed across his expression.

“Good.”

I folded my arms.

“Now it’s your turn.”

He became still.

“My turn?”

“To answer my questions.”

Mrs. Harper quietly disappeared into the kitchen.

I led Alexander into the conservatory.

Sunlight filtered through the glass ceiling, illuminating the roses my mother had planted years earlier.

It had always been my favorite room.

Today, it felt like a place where every beautiful thing was hiding a secret.

I closed the door.

“Tell me what happened in the rain.”

Alexander looked away.

“Evelyn—”

“No.”

My voice cracked.

“I died, Alexander.”

He turned so sharply that I almost stepped backward.

I continued before fear could stop me.

“I was twenty-eight. Nathaniel and Sophia had taken everything from me. I was lying on a road in the rain, and you came to save me.”

Alexander’s face went white.

I took another step toward him.

“You held my hand.”

His breathing changed.

“You told me you loved me.”

He closed his eyes.

“And then I died.”

For several seconds, the room was completely silent.

When Alexander opened his eyes again, they were filled with tears.

“You remember.”

Two words.

That was all.

But they answered everything.

I pressed a hand against my chest.

“You’re like me.”

He nodded slowly.

“Yes.”

My knees weakened.

I sank into the nearest chair.

Alexander knelt in front of me.

Not to propose.

Not to make a grand declaration.

He simply wanted to be close enough to catch me if I fell.

“How long?” I whispered.

“Since the morning of June fourteenth.”

“The same day as me?”

“Yes.”

I stared at him.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

He lowered his gaze.

“Because I didn’t know if you remembered.”

“And if I didn’t?”

His expression softened painfully.

“Then I wanted you to have a chance at happiness without carrying the memories that nearly destroyed you.”

Tears filled my eyes.

“Alexander…”

“I made a promise when I held you that night.”

He swallowed.

“I promised that if I ever had another chance, I would protect you.”

My voice trembled.

“And now?”

He looked directly into my eyes.

“Now I’m trying to keep it.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I remembered the telephone call.

“The fire.”

Alexander’s face darkened.

“In my first life, Rosewood Manor caught fire three months after your engagement.”

I frowned.

“No.”

He blinked.

“What?”

“That never happened.”

He stared at me.

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

In my first life, the eastern wing had been damaged by a winter storm years later.

There had never been a fire during my engagement.

Alexander rose slowly.

“Then something has already changed.”

The realization settled between us.

We had both returned.

We had both changed our choices.

And now the future was changing in ways neither of us understood.

I felt cold.

“If the fire didn’t happen in my first life, how do you know about it?”

Alexander hesitated.

“Because someone attempted to burn your mother’s study in my first life.”

I stood abruptly.

“What?”

“It was never publicly reported. The attempt failed. Your father believed it was an electrical fault.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I investigated it after your mother’s attorney approached me.”

My thoughts raced.

Margaret.

The letter.

My mother’s warnings.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Alexander’s expression twisted.

“I tried.”

I stared at him.

He continued quietly.

“Three months after your engagement, I came to Rosewood Manor with evidence that Nathaniel was manipulating your trust.”

I searched my memories.

Then I remembered.

A rainy afternoon.

Alexander standing at our front door.

Nathaniel telling me that Whitmore was trying to interfere in our marriage.

I had refused to see him.

My stomach dropped.

“You came to warn me.”

“Yes.”

“And I sent you away.”

He nodded.

“I should have tried harder.”

“No.”

My voice broke.

“Alexander, you tried. I just wouldn’t listen.”

He looked at me with such sadness that I had to turn away.

For ten years, I had blamed the world for abandoning me.

But perhaps there had been people trying to reach me all along.

I had simply been too frightened of losing Nathaniel to hear them.

***

That afternoon, Alexander and I made a plan.

We informed my father of a possible threat to the eastern wing.

We asked the household staff to move valuable belongings away from the study.

We arranged for a security company to inspect the building and install temporary cameras.

And we contacted the local police to report the warning.

My father was furious.

Not at us.

At the possibility that someone might deliberately endanger his family.

“Who would do such a thing?” he demanded.

I almost told him.

Nathaniel.

Sophia.

Perhaps someone working for them.

But I had no proof.

And I had already learned the cost of accusing people before understanding the full truth.

So I said only, “Someone who wants Mother’s papers.”

Father looked toward the study.

His expression changed.

For a moment, I thought I saw recognition.

“Your mother was worried about those papers,” he said quietly.

My heart skipped.

“What do you mean?”

He hesitated.

“Near the end, she kept asking me to review certain investments. She believed someone had been approaching her advisors without permission.”

“Who?”

He shook his head.

“She wouldn’t tell me. She said she needed to be certain first.”

I stared at him.

“Father, why didn’t you tell me?”

He looked ashamed.

“Because she was very ill, Evelyn. I thought the strain was making her suspicious.”

My chest tightened.

My mother had tried to warn everyone.

And nobody had listened.

Including me.

***

At six that evening, Sophia arrived unexpectedly.

She carried a basket of pastries and wore the sweetest smile I had ever seen.

“Evelyn!”

She swept into the drawing room.

“I heard you’ve been terribly upset since yesterday.”

I watched her carefully.

“Who told you that?”

“Everyone is talking about it.”

She set the basket on the table.

“I thought we could have tea.”

In my first life, I would have welcomed her immediately.

Now I wondered why she had come.

Especially today.

“That’s thoughtful,” I said.

She looked around.

“Where is everyone?”

“Father is working. Mrs. Harper is in the kitchen.”

“And Alexander?”

My stomach tightened.

“Why?”

Sophia laughed.

“Oh, don’t be suspicious. I heard he came here earlier.”

“He did.”

“How romantic.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Then she glanced toward the hallway leading to my mother’s study.

“Are you doing something with the old rooms?”

I watched her face.

“What makes you ask?”

“I noticed some men carrying boxes out earlier.”

The security company.

The documents.

Of course she had noticed.

“Just organizing.”

Sophia tilted her head.

“Your mother’s study?”

“Among other places.”

She took a careful sip of tea.

“I always thought it was strange that your father kept that room locked.”

My heart began to pound.

“It holds private family records.”

“Nothing important, surely.”

I smiled.

“Important enough.”

Her fingers tightened around the teacup.

For a moment, her expression changed.

Not anger.

Calculation.

Then she leaned forward.

“Evelyn, may I ask you something honestly?”

“Of course.”

“Are you still angry with Nathaniel?”

I almost laughed.

Angry?

I had watched him abandon me while I was dying.

Anger was far too small a word.

“I’ve moved on.”

Sophia stared.

“Already?”

“Yes.”

“But you loved him.”

“I thought I did.”

Her expression became serious.

“Evelyn, Nathaniel has a temper. You know how proud he is.”

I looked at her.

“Is that a warning?”

“No!”

She laughed nervously.

“I’m just saying you should be careful.”

I set down my cup.

“Careful of what?”

Sophia’s smile faded.

For one moment, the room seemed colder.

“Of making him feel like he has nothing left to lose.”

I stared at her.

Then she smiled again.

“Anyway, I should be going.”

She stood.

I walked her to the door.

As she stepped outside, I noticed something strange.

A thin red mark around her wrist.

Almost like a scratch.

Or a burn.

“Your wrist,” I said.

She immediately pulled down her sleeve.

“What?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Oh. Nothing serious.”

She smiled.

“Just a little accident.”

Then she hurried toward her waiting car.

I watched her leave.

And for the first time, I wondered whether Sophia had already begun helping Nathaniel long before our wedding.

***

At ten that night, Alexander returned.

He arrived carrying a small black bag.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“A portable recorder and copies of the security camera feeds.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“You came prepared.”

He gave me a faint smile.

“I lost you once. I’m not taking chances.”

My heart warmed.

For a moment, I forgot the danger.

Then he reached into his coat and handed me a small silver object.

An old pocket watch.

Its glass was cracked.

I stared.

“Alexander…”

“I know.”

I took it with trembling fingers.

It was the same watch I remembered seeing on the wet pavement beside my body.

The same broken glass.

The same engraved initials.

A.W.

“How is this possible?”

Alexander looked troubled.

“I found it on my bedside table when I woke up ten years earlier.”

I turned the watch over.

There was a small inscription on the back.

I hadn’t noticed it before.

“Until time gives us another chance.”

My pulse quickened.

“Who gave you this?”

“My grandfather.”

“When?”

“On the night before he died.”

I looked up.

“Did he say anything about it?”

Alexander nodded.

“He told me that some people spend their entire lives waiting for a second chance, while others are given one without understanding why.”

I stared at the watch.

A strange uneasiness settled in my chest.

Could the watch have something to do with our return?

Or was it merely another coincidence in a world that had stopped making sense?

Before I could ask, Alexander took my hand.

“Evelyn.”

I looked at him.

“Whatever happens tonight, promise me something.”

“What?”

“If things become dangerous, you’ll leave the house.”

I frowned.

“What about you?”

“I’ll make sure everyone else gets out.”

“No.”

He looked surprised.

I tightened my grip on his hand.

“No more sacrificing yourself for me.”

His expression softened.

“Evelyn—”

“You already did that once.”

Tears burned behind my eyes.

“This time, if we survive, we survive together.”

Alexander stared at me.

Then, very slowly, he smiled.

It was the first genuine smile I had seen from him since waking up in the past.

“Together,” he repeated.

And for a brief moment, I believed we might truly change everything.

***

At 11:20 p.m., Rosewood Manor fell silent.

My father had retired to his bedroom.

Mrs. Harper and the servants were gathered in the western wing, following our safety precautions.

Two security guards patrolled the grounds.

Alexander and I sat in the conservatory, watching the camera feeds on a small monitor.

Nothing moved.

11:30.

Nothing.

11:40.

Still nothing.

I glanced at Alexander.

“Maybe we prevented it.”

He didn’t answer.

His eyes remained fixed on the screen.

11:45.

A faint movement appeared near the eastern corridor.

Someone wearing a dark coat.

I leaned forward.

“Who’s that?”

Alexander adjusted the screen.

The figure moved quickly toward my mother’s study.

A hood concealed their face.

“Security?” I whispered.

Alexander shook his head.

“No.”

The person stopped outside the study.

Then reached into their pocket.

A small object flashed beneath the hallway light.

A key.

My mother’s study key.

My blood went cold.

Only three people were supposed to have one.

My father.

Mrs. Harper.

And me.

The figure unlocked the door and disappeared inside.

Alexander stood immediately.

“Call the guards.”

I grabbed the telephone.

But before I could dial, the screen flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then went black.

Every camera feed disappeared.

“Alexander?”

He was already moving toward the door.

“Stay here.”

I stood.

“No.”

“Evelyn—”

“We agreed. Together.”

For a moment, he looked ready to argue.

Then he nodded.

“Stay behind me.”

We hurried through the dark hallway.

The old grandfather clock struck eleven forty-seven.

One.

Two.

Three.

The first smell reached me before we reached the study.

Smoke.

Alexander stopped.

“Back!”

A sharp crack echoed through the corridor.

Then orange light flashed beneath the study door.

Flames.

The fire had started.

Exactly as predicted.

Alexander grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall.

I ran toward the emergency alarm.

Within seconds, bells rang throughout the mansion.

But the eastern corridor was already filling with smoke.

“Call emergency services!” Alexander shouted.

I pulled out my phone.

Then something caught my attention.

A shadow.

Moving behind the glass door at the far end of the hallway.

Someone was escaping through the servants’ passage.

“Alexander! Someone’s running!”

He turned.

“Don’t follow them!”

But I had already seen something.

Something that made my stomach twist.

The fleeing figure had dropped a small object beside the doorway.

I rushed toward it.

A gold bracelet.

Thin.

Delicate.

With a tiny pink gemstone.

I knew that bracelet.

I had given it to Sophia on her eighteenth birthday.

My hands began to shake.

Sophia.

She had been here.

She had entered my mother’s study.

And she had started the fire.

But before I could call out, a hand grabbed my shoulder.

I screamed.

Alexander pulled me backward just as a section of burning wood crashed from the ceiling.

The beam struck the floor exactly where I had been standing.

He wrapped his arms around me.

“Are you hurt?”

I shook my head.

He looked at the bracelet in my hand.

His expression darkened.

“Where did you find that?”

“Near the servants’ passage.”

He stared at it.

Then at me.

“Who does it belong to?”

I swallowed.

“Sophia.”

For the first time, Alexander looked genuinely shocked.

But before either of us could speak, a terrible sound echoed from inside the study.

A scream.

A woman’s scream.

“HELP ME!”

I froze.

Alexander turned toward the burning room.

Another scream.

This time, louder.

“PLEASE!”

Someone was trapped inside.

And the voice…

The voice was horribly familiar.

My heart stopped.

“Mrs. Harper?”

I rushed toward the door.

Alexander caught my arm.

“Evelyn, no!”

But I couldn’t stop.

Not this time.

In my first life, Mrs. Harper had died while I was too busy with Nathaniel to visit her.

I had arrived at her funeral carrying flowers and regrets.

I would not lose her again.

I grabbed a damp cloth from the nearby washroom and covered my mouth.

Alexander tried to stop me.

But then the woman screamed again.

And I recognized the voice clearly.

It wasn’t Mrs. Harper.

It was Sophia.

***

Firefighters arrived within minutes.

By then, Alexander had managed to force open the study door.

We found Sophia collapsed near the window, coughing violently.

Her sleeve had caught fire.

Alexander smothered the flames with his coat.

Together, we dragged her into the corridor.

I was shaking so badly I could barely stand.

Outside, emergency workers rushed toward us.

Sophia was conscious.

Barely.

Her face was streaked with soot.

Her eyes widened when she saw me.

“Evelyn…”

I knelt beside her.

“Why were you in my mother’s study?”

She began to cry.

“I didn’t mean…”

My chest tightened.

“Didn’t mean what?”

She reached weakly for my wrist.

“He told me it would only be the papers.”

I froze.

“Who told you?”

Her lips trembled.

“He said nobody would get hurt.”

“Sophia.”

I leaned closer.

“Who?”

Her eyes filled with terror.

Then she whispered a name.

“Nathaniel.”

I closed my eyes.

Of course.

Of course it was him.

But before I could ask another question, Sophia grabbed my hand.

“Please, Evelyn. You don’t understand.”

“Then explain.”

Her voice dropped.

“He wasn’t the one who wanted the letters destroyed.”

My eyes opened.

“What?”

Tears rolled down her soot-covered cheeks.

“Nathaniel was only following instructions.”

I stared at her.

“Whose instructions?”

She began to tremble.

Then, with a look of pure fear, she whispered:

“Your mother knew who was behind everything.”

The words struck me like a blow.

“Behind what?”

Sophia looked toward the mansion.

Toward the second-floor windows.

Toward the room where my father was standing with the firefighters.

Then she whispered something that made my entire world collapse.

“She was going to tell you the truth about how she became ill.”

I couldn’t breathe.

My mother’s illness.

The sudden decline.

The doctors who couldn’t explain why she deteriorated so quickly.

The final weeks when she barely recognized me.

I had accepted her passing as a terrible tragedy.

But what if it hadn’t been?

What if someone had deliberately hurt her?

I grabbed Sophia’s hand.

“Who did this to my mother?”

Her face twisted with terror.

“Evelyn, please…”

“WHO?”

She opened her mouth.

But before she could answer, a voice spoke behind us.

“That’s enough.”

I turned.

Nathaniel stood beneath the flashing red lights of the fire engines.

His expression was calm.

Far too calm.

He looked at Sophia.

Then at me.

And smiled.

“Darling,” he said softly, “there are some things you were never supposed to remember.”

My blood turned to ice.

Because he hadn’t said discover.

He hadn’t said learn.

He had said remember.

I stepped backward.

Alexander immediately moved beside me.

Nathaniel’s smile widened.

Then he looked directly at Alexander.

“And you, Whitmore…”

His voice became dangerously quiet.

“Did you really think you were the only one who came back?”

— END OF PART 3 —

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 4:
HE HAD LOVED ME THROUGH TWO LIFETIMES