Left to Burn

The former top heiress of Alden City was finally getting married, despite the scandalous reputation that had shadowed her name for the past seven years. To high society, she was nothing more than damaged goods, a disgraced woman whose past should have disqualified her from polite company. Yet against all odds, Wyatt Mercer had stood beside her through three years of relentless gossip, asking for her hand in marriage.

Inside the private dressing room, Hazel Winslow adjusted the veil attached to her custom Franconia bridal gown. The delicate lace cascaded down her shoulders, framing a face that remained breathtaking despite the faint lines of fatigue around her eyes. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her heart pounding with cautious hope. Wyatt had promised to shield her from the city’s venomous tongues. He had vowed that her past would never matter between them. Smiling faintly with unshed tears in her eyes, she lifted the heavy skirt of her gown and walked toward the exit, eager to walk down the aisle.

A sudden acrid stench stopped her in her tracks.

Dark, swirling plumes of gray smoke began to seep through the gap beneath the double doors, snaking across the polished marble floor.

Hazel’s breath caught in her chest. She pulled open the doors, only to be struck by a wall of blistering heat.

The lavish banquet hall, which had been buzzing with hundreds of distinguished guests just half an hour ago, had devolved into a roaring inferno. The tables were overturned, shattered crystal glasses littered the aisles, and crimson flames climbed the heavy velvet draperies with terrifying speed. Black smoke rolled across the ceiling, blotting out the lights and swallowing the air.

Panic surged through her veins. Holding the silk train of her gown tightly with one hand, Hazel pressed the fabric of her sleeve over her nose and mouth. She stumbled forward through the haze, her throat burning and her eyes stinging from the toxic fumes. Every landmark in the hall was swallowed by the fire, leaving only the dull roar of collapsing decor.

A crash echoed near the main entrance. Through the dense fog, a man charged into the burning hall.

It was Wyatt.

Salvation seemed within reach. Hazel let out a hoarse cry, coughing hard as she pushed toward him through the heat. "Wyatt! I'm here! Over here!"

Wyatt did not pause. He scanned the fiery chaos with frantic urgency, his gaze skimming right past her as if she were made of thin air. His focus locked onto the far side of the room, near the fallen decorative archway. Without a moment of hesitation, he turned and sprinted in the opposite direction, putting more distance between himself and his bride.

Hazel froze, the breath trapped in her chest.

Through the smoke, she watched him drop to his knees beside another woman trapped beneath the debris. Wyatt lifted the fallen wooden frame, throwing it aside before sweeping the woman into his arms.

Gwen Winslow clung to his neck, her silk dress stained with soot, her voice wavering with delicate misery. "I knew you would come for me, Wyatt. I was so afraid."

The sound of that voice hit Hazel like a sledgehammer to the chest. Her vision darkened, a suffocating ache spreading through her ribs that had nothing to do with the smoke.

Wyatt had risked his life to run into a burning building, not for his bride, but for her stepsister.

Before Hazel could find her voice, an ominous groan tore through the ceiling overhead. The massive brass and crystal chandelier broke from its iron chain.

The heavy structure crashed down with a deafening boom, smashing directly into the path before her. Shards of glass and jagged metal exploded in every direction, slicing through Hazel's gown and pinning her right leg to the floor. The force of the impact threw her onto her back. Agony shot through her lower body, blinding and sharp, locking her in place amidst the burning debris.

Wyatt turned around at the sound of the crash.

Through the haze of smoke and fire, their eyes met. He saw her lying on the blistering floor, pinned beneath the wreckage of the chandelier, bleeding and struggling to pull herself free.

He did not take a single step back toward her.

Hazel reached a soot-stained hand toward him, her lips trembling, but Wyatt merely tightened his hold around Gwen. He turned his back on Hazel, racing toward the open exit without looking behind him a second time.

As her vision blurred, his tender voice drifted back through the crackling flames, steady and reassuring for the woman in his arms. "It's alright. I'm here now. I've got you."

The words echoed through the burning room like a funeral knell. Surrounded by scorching heat, Hazel felt ice spread through her veins. She watched the silhouette of the man she loved carry another woman into the light, leaving her alone in the dark to die.

The smell of smoke was replaced by the cold sting of antiseptic.

Hazel opened her eyes to the soft rustle of hospital curtains. Morning light spilled across the private room, illuminating the pale skin of her arms and the thick cast immobilizing her right leg. The firefighters had arrived in the nick of time, pulling her from the collapsing hall before the roof caved in. She had survived severe smoke inhalation and blunt force trauma, but the bride who had believed in love was dead.

She stared quietly at the patch of blue sky visible through the window, her expression unreadable.

The door swung open, shattering the quiet. Arthur Winslow marched inside, his expression rigid and stern. Right behind him came his wife, Beth Calloway, followed closely by Gwen, who sported a neat bandage around her wrist and an expression of fragile sorrow.

Gwen hurried to the bedside, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. "Are you alright, Hazel? When the chandelier fell, I was terrified you wouldn't make it."

Hazel looked at Gwen's immaculate face, remembering the way Wyatt had scooped her into his arms while leaving his bride to burn. A wave of disgust rose in her throat. She looked away, staring out the window once more.

Arthur banged his fist against the metal railing of the bed, his voice tight with impatience. "You're always so rude! Don't you see that your sister cares about you?"

Beth stepped in smoothly, resting a manicured hand on her husband's sleeve. "Arthur, don't upset yourself. Hazel has just woken up, and we have far more pressing business to settle anyway."

Arthur straightened his shoulders, looking down at Hazel with cold disdain. "You probably know the truth by now. Gwen is the one Wyatt actually loves. It was a lucky coincidence that the fire interrupted the wedding before things became official. You will give them your blessing and announce the annulment of your engagement to Wyatt."

Hazel let out a dry, rasping laugh that cut through the room like a blade. "Why should I?"

Arthur sneered, his voice brimming with righteous arrogance. "Because they love each other. You dragged our family's name through the mud seven years ago when you had a child out of wedlock. All of Alden City knows what kind of woman you are. Did you really think an honorable family like the Mercers would ever accept someone with your disgraceful past? Wyatt was doing you a favor by even considering you. Now the Mercer family is offering you a clean way out, so take it before you embarrass us further."

The mention of that past made Hazel’s chest tighten, the old scars tearing open under his callous words.

Seven years ago, on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, Gwen had lured her to a private nightclub, slipping drugs into her drink. Hazel had lost consciousness, only to wake up the next morning in an unfamiliar bed beside a stranger whose face she never saw. Terrified, she had fled into the dawn.

She had been too young to understand the consequences until her belly began to show. By five months, when she finally gathered the courage to seek a quiet termination, Gwen had already tipped off the press. The headlines tore Hazel apart, branding her the premier disgraced socialite of Alden City.

Complications forced her to carry the pregnancy to term, but the infant was pronounced stillborn at birth. In the depth of her grief and physical devastation, Arthur did not offer a single word of comfort. Instead, he banished her across the ocean, cutting off her funds and leaving her to fend for herself for seven long years.

He had never cared whether she lived or died abroad. He had not asked how she felt after nearly burning to death yesterday. And now, he stood over her hospital bed, demanding that she surrender her fiancé to the very sister who had orchestrated her downfall.

Hazel pushed herself up against the pillows, ignoring the sharp pain in her leg. Her eyes locked onto Arthur with chilling clarity. "I guess being a mistress runs in the blood. You talk about dragging the family name through the mud? You brought Beth into our home before my mother's body had even turned cold. Gwen is only six months younger than me. You traded my mother's life's work for an affair, and now you want to preach morality to me? No one in this entire city could ever take the throne of shamelessness from you."

Beth gasped, her face draining of color, while Gwen took a step back, biting her lip in humiliation.

Arthur raised his hand, trembling with fury. "Hazel Winslow! Don't you dare speak to your elders like that!"

Hazel did not flinch. Her voice remained calm, razor-sharp and cold. "If the Mercers want this engagement broken, tell Wyatt to stand right in front of me and say it himself. You have no right to speak for him, and you have no right to be in my room. Get out before I press the nurse call button and have hospital security drag you out into the hallway. I have nothing left to lose, but I doubt the Winslow Group wants the press to see you terrorizing your injured daughter."

Arthur lowered his arm slowly, his chest heaving with rage. He recognized the stubborn steel in Hazel's gaze—the same unyielding pride her mother had possessed. If pushed too far, Hazel would not hesitate to drag them all into a public scandal.

Arthur turned toward the door, spitting his final words over his shoulder. "Don't test my patience, Hazel Winslow. Don't make me send you abroad again!"

Beth and Gwen followed hurriedly behind him, casting venomous glances at the bed before closing the door shut.

Silence settled over the room once more. Hazel leaned back against the headboard, closing her eyes as she regulated her shallow breathing. Her hands gripped the linen sheets until her knuckles turned white. Arthur still believed she was the frightened, powerless girl from seven years ago whom he could banish with a single word.

He was wrong. She would never let anyone walk over her life again.

"Mommy?"

A small, crisp voice suddenly broke the stillness of the room.