Inky despair draped itself across the sky, not a single star daring to pierce the suffocating blackness. The air hung heavy, a tangible weight was pressing down on New York City. September, already stifling for weeks, finally unleashed its fury in a torrential downpour.
A lone figure, a young girl, huddled on the rain-soaked pavement. Her entire being, from her tear-streaked face to her mud-caked clothes, seemed utterly vanquished by the storm, mirroring the turmoil within.
Opposite her stood a man, a silent silhouette framed by the cascading rain. His eyes, however, held no shelter from the tempest within—a storm of desolation and disappointment warring with something deeper, something unspoken.
A tirade, laced with fury, sliced through the downpour. "Clara Greene, you wouldn't hesitate to push someone off a building! What depths haven't you plumbed?
Even indifference isn't an excuse for such cruelty! Get down there and contemplate the wreckage you've caused!"
A calming hand of her brother's soothed the tempest in their father's voice.
"Father, a little patience. Let me speak to the White family; mend the bridge you've so tragically burned."
Clara, trapped behind heavy eyelids, recognized the voices that echoed through the storm. Her vision blurred, as rain painted the figures before her in hazy strokes.
Hallucinations and morbid amusement flickered in her fading mind. It had been three years since their deaths, and this was the first glimpse she had in her dreams.
They despised her; that much was certain. They hated her even in her dreams they couldn't forgive her, what she had done to the family.
And then there was Noah White, the man who loved her with a devotion that bordered on obsession.
The rain hammered down, each droplet a tiny shard of ice against her chilled skin.
A desperate plea clawed its way up her throat, a yearning to reach out and explain, but her body, a hollow shell, refused to cooperate. Weakness—a warm, suffocating cloak—engulfed her, pulling her back into the inky abyss of unconsciousness.
...
Clara's eyelids were pierced by a sharp white light that broke the dark darkness. It required a moment for her thinking, which was slow and clogged with webs, to catch up.
Had Lilly Greene and Jack Craig's twisted retaliation kept her imprisoned in that godforsaken warehouse? Then, where on earth was, she at this moment?
Clara squinted at the sterile light as she pushed her eyelids open with a frown. The place shot into sharp focus, every feature a startling reminder of a time long gone. This was—her previous room? Not possible.
A year prior, the Greene family's mansion had been torn away from them. Nevertheless, the harsh likeness of the aged desk and the familiar wallpaper, where she used to pour over textbooks, ridiculed her.
A surge of movement sent a jolt of pain through her. Not a dream. This was real.
A horrifying, exhilarating thought wormed its way into her mind. Could it be...? Reborn?
But where was her father, the pillar of the Greene family? Her brother, her confidante? And Noah White, the man whose love for her burned with an unwavering flame?
A torrent of questions, laced with a sliver of hope, threatened to drown her.
Casting aside the covers, Clara lurched to her feet. The world tilted precariously, threatening to send her tumbling back into the abyss of unconsciousness.
But adrenaline, a potent cocktail of confusion and anticipation, spurred her forward.
With trembling hands, she flung open the door, desperate to unravel the threads of this perplexing reality.
A barked command sliced through the air, halting Clara's desperate dash towards the stairs. "Think you're going somewhere? Still itching for trouble? Haven't learned your lesson after all that kneeling?"
Her heart lurched; a hummingbird trapped against her ribs. Memories, hazy and fractured, flooded back. This voice, laced with a familiar fury... it couldn't be.
Clara spun around, her vision blurring with a fresh wave of shock. There he stood, no more than forty, his face etched with the same lines she remembered so painfully.
He marched towards her, a storm cloud gathering above his brow.
Tears erupted, a torrential downpour mirroring the chaos within. "Father..." The word escaped her lips in a shaky whisper.
A flicker of surprise crossed his features, quickly replaced by a renewed wave of anger. But as he met her tear-streaked gaze, a flicker of softness flickered in his eyes.
It was quickly extinguished though, replaced by a harsh reminder. "Tears won't erase your actions, Clara Greene. Get back to your room!"
His words were a muffled roar, reaching her through a thick fog of disbelief. Three years. Three agonizing years of mourning, only to have him back, standing a breath away. How could she not be a storm of emotions?
Across the room, her father's steely facade wavered, a flicker of doubt mirroring the storm in Clara Greene's eyes.
Had he been too harsh? The question pricked at him, but then the memory of her actions reignited his fury.
"Clara," he growled, his voice a low rumble, "I understand you weren't fond of Noah White, but this time you crossed a line. Pushing someone off a building? What were you thinking?"
The words slammed into Clara, jolting her back to a horrifying memory. Noah White. Persistent, annoying Noah White. Lilly Greene's poisonous advice echoed in her mind – a staged suicide, a desperate ploy to escape his affections.
But the plan had gone horribly, grotesquely wrong. When Noah reached out to save her, she... she had shoved him down.
A cold sweat prickled her skin as realization dawned. This was the moment.
The moment of her monstrous act, the moment her life had irrevocably shattered. It was also, unbelievably, the moment she was reborn.
Across the room, her father's voice rumbled on, oblivious to the earthquake that had just rocked Clara's world.
"Noah's leaving the city. There's no chance you'll ever cross paths again."
Leaving? The word echoed in the cavernous space of her mind. A torrent of emotions, a tangled mess of dread and a sliver of something… hope? This bizarre twist of fate, this do-over, hinged entirely on Noah's departure.
The man she once dismissed with annoyance, the man she'd wronged so grievously, was now her lifeline.
The weight of this knowledge settled on her shoulders; a crushing burden laced with the faintest flicker of a desperate chance.
Noah, leaving? The memory flickered back, sharp and painful. Her cruel actions, driven by youthful ignorance and malicious advice, had driven him from River City, his heart shattered. The next time their paths crossed, it was amidst the ashes of her own family's tragedy. He'd returned, offering solace and a steady hand, but blinded by her infatuation with Jack Graig, she'd rejected him with icy cruelty.
His final departure, a heartbroken retreat, was etched in her mind – the last time she'd seen him before the flames consumed her.
"No! He can't leave!" The cry erupted from her lips, a primal urge to rewrite the wrongs of the past. "I'm going to bring him back!"
This unexpected rebirth, a chance to rectify her monstrous mistakes, wouldn't be squandered. Noah wouldn't vanish again.
Her father's voice, laced with suspicion, cut through her resolve. "Why on earth would you chase after him, Clara? You never cared for him a bit! Don't you dare cause more chaos!"
"Who says I don't care?" The retort escaped her lips before she could censor it. But the truth hung heavy in the air – would someone you cared for become a target to be shoved off a building?
Her impulsive outburst only deepened her father's scowl. He was convinced she was up to her old tricks, concocting a new scheme to torment the man she already hurt.
"Get back to your room and stay put! You're not going anywhere without my permission!" His voice rose in anger, punctuated by a hacking cough that sent tremors through his frame.
Fear, a primal instinct honed by years of his temper, clipped her wings. Disobeying now wouldn't help. With a forced nod, Clara retreated to the confines of her room.
As the sound of his footsteps faded, a different kind of fire ignited within her – a flicker of defiance fueled by this newfound chance. Secretly, she made her decision. The White residence awaited.