Chapter 1: Burned by Blood, Betrayed by Family

Tyler, my nephew, was always getting into trouble—he couldn’t sit still for a second, always looking for the next adventure. One day, he got himself stuck in some heavy machinery at a construction site. I risked my own life to save him, but no matter what I did, I still couldn’t save his right hand.

That memory still stings. When my sister-in-law found out, she slapped me—so hard my ears rang.

"If you hadn’t wasted time and saved him faster, my son wouldn’t be disabled!"

Her voice was sharp, trembling with pain that was just a hair away from rage. The slap left my cheek burning, but her words cut even deeper, echoing down the sterile hospital hallway.

"It’s all your fault. My son will never have a normal life now, and you couldn’t pay me back even if you won the lottery!"

She was inconsolable, her grief twisting into blame. The way she looked at me—like I was a stranger, or worse, an enemy—made my stomach churn. God, that look made my stomach churn.

Even my brother didn’t defend me. He blamed me too, his voice flat and cold, like he was talking to a stranger, not his own brother.

"You pay the twenty grand in medical bills, and from now on, you’re responsible for my son’s wedding and his first house."

I just stared at him, the words barely making sense. Twenty grand, and then the rest of Tyler’s life on my shoulders, like it was some kind of penance. I thought this was insane and refused right then and there, my voice shaking but firm.

That night, a sudden fire broke out at home. When I rushed to the entryway, I found the front door locked from the outside.

I couldn’t breathe. The heat pressed in from every side. Panic clawed at my throat as the smoke thickened. I pounded on the door, screamed for help, but the world outside was silent. The realization hit me like a punch: I was trapped.

I was burned alive in my own house. And later, I found out—it was my own brother and his family who set the fire.

The betrayal was so deep it almost didn’t feel real. They had their eyes on the hundred thousand dollars in my bank account and wanted to take it for themselves.

I opened my eyes—and I was back. Back on the day Tyler snuck off to the construction site.

"Somebody help! A kid’s arm is stuck in the machine!"

That cry hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest. It was the kind of sound you don’t forget, the kind that rattles your bones.

I took a deep breath and realized I’d been given a second chance.

The scene in front of me was all too familiar. Suddenly, the nightmare from before came rushing back, threatening to drown me. My heart thudded in my chest. I could feel sweat prickling at my hairline, my hands shaking as I tried to steady myself.

In my last life, as soon as I heard the cry for help, I immediately followed the crowd to the scene.

But to my shock, the kid caught in the machine was actually my nephew, Tyler.

My mind went blank, and I instinctively sprinted toward him. My feet barely touched the ground as I pushed past the crowd, yelling for them to move.

I was desperate. If I was even a second late, it could all go wrong. Back then, I was desperate to save him, terrified that if I was even a second late, the danger would get worse.

I couldn’t even imagine what this would do to my brother’s family. The thought of Tyler’s laughter being silenced forever was more than I could bear.

When I got close, I saw Tyler trapped deep inside the machine. His little face was streaked with tears, completely drained of color, and he was so weak he couldn’t even cry out.

His arm was clamped tight, blood seeping from the machine’s crevices. The sight made my stomach twist. I wanted to scream, but I bit it back, forcing myself to focus.

The workers had formed a circle. Some shouted, trying to comfort Tyler. Others frantically searched for tools. But no one dared to act.

The roar of the machine was deafening, like some wild beast, each sound shredding my nerves. The metallic screech echoed, making every hair on my body stand on end.

Panicked and desperate, I shouted, "Cut the power! Turn off the main switch!"

But someone yelled back, "No, the power system’s down! Backup hasn’t arrived yet. If we shut everything off, the whole site’s gonna be a mess!"

Furious, I shoved my way through the crowd and grabbed the guy’s shirt. Enough was enough. "A kid’s life is at stake—how is that less important than your equipment?"

I shoved him aside, forced myself to calm down, and took a deep breath. The world seemed to slow for a moment, my senses sharpening with adrenaline.

Scanning the area, I suddenly spotted a hydraulic cutter not far away.

I stumbled over, tripped on some rebar, and slammed my knee into the ground, pain shooting through me.

But I couldn’t care about that. I got up and rushed to the toolbox. Every second counted, and I could feel the clock ticking down in my bones.

I grabbed the hydraulic cutter and immediately ran back to the machine.

Someone nearby shouted, "Don’t go, it’s too dangerous! The equipment could go haywire any second!"

But all I could think about was Tyler’s safety, so I ignored them.

I shook off anyone trying to stop me and ran straight to the machine. My heart hammered in my chest, fear and determination warring inside me.

Just as I got close, the machine suddenly shook violently. I lost my balance and nearly fell.

A loose steel plate fell from above, and I couldn’t dodge in time—it hit my shoulder hard.

With a sickening crack, pain exploded through my body, and my vision went black.

But I gritted my teeth, endured the pain, and clung to the hydraulic cutter, inching closer to Tyler.

Sweat poured down my face, blurring my vision. I wiped it away with my sleeve. My whole body felt like it was on fire, but I kept moving.

The gears inside the machine spun wildly, sparking now and then. I knew if I made one wrong move, I could get caught too.

I stared at Tyler’s trapped arm, the only thing on my mind: Get him out!

I struggled to aim the hydraulic cutter at the part clamping his arm. Every effort felt like prying open a mountain, and my injured arm trembled from the strain.

Suddenly, sparks burst from inside the machine, followed by the harsh smell of burning.

"Oh no, the circuit’s shorted! Get back!"

Someone yelled, and instantly, the circuit caught fire with a bang. In seconds, flames engulfed the area around the machine.

The workers all scattered, but I couldn’t leave—Tyler was still inside.

The flames scorched my skin like knives, and the thick smoke nearly choked me. My eyes stung, and I could barely breathe, but I pressed on.

But I didn’t dare stop, pushing through the pain in my shoulder and forcing my body to its limits.

Finally, just when I was about to lose hope, I managed to cut open the machine and pull Tyler free.

Just before the fire could swallow us, I used my last ounce of strength to carry Tyler out, escaping the danger.

Seeing Tyler’s tightly shut eyes and pale face, my heart felt like it was being stabbed with a thousand needles.

Holding him, I ran out, shouting at the top of my lungs, "Call 911!"

Thankfully, fate had mercy. Tyler was saved—his life was no longer in danger.

But it was too late for his right hand. It was still crushed.

My brother and sister-in-law rushed to the hospital, panicked and in tears, anxiously asking what happened.

I explained everything, my voice shaking. I didn’t leave anything out. I just hoped they’d understand.

My brother stared blankly, nearly fainting. He looked lost, like a man suddenly finding himself on the edge of a cliff.

I tried to comfort him, told him it was a miracle Tyler was even alive.

But before I could finish, my sister-in-law slapped me hard, her voice raw with anger:

"If you hadn’t wasted time, my son wouldn’t be crippled!"

"It’s all your fault! My son will never have a normal life now, and you couldn’t pay me back even if you won the lottery!"

I was stunned, but thinking she was just traumatized, I didn’t argue.

Out of nowhere, my brother jumped up and grabbed me by the neck, his eyes bloodshot.

"How did I end up with such a useless brother? Ruining Tyler is like ruining my whole family!"

"You pay the twenty grand in medical bills, and from now on, you’re responsible for my son’s wedding and his first house!"

Staring at the furious couple in front of me, I was in disbelief.

To save Tyler, my shoulder was badly injured—I hadn’t even had it checked out.

But at that moment, the pain of being betrayed by my own family was a hundred, a thousand times worse than my shoulder!

My brother said all that like he meant it. Did he not care about my feelings at all? Did brotherhood mean nothing to him?

I tried to explain that I’d risked my life to save Tyler.

With those two big gears, once his arm was caught, there was no way to save it!

But my brother and sister-in-law wouldn’t listen. They even beat me in the hospital hallway, punching and kicking me.

Doctors and nurses rushed over, yelling that my arm was injured.

Yet my brother and sister-in-law viciously stomped on my shoulder, making me scream in agony and pass out from the pain, still unwilling to stop.

Finally, security dragged them away.

I was taken back to the ward for treatment, my shoulder throbbing so badly I could barely breathe.

But the grief and loneliness in my heart were overwhelming.

At that moment, my brother and sister-in-law didn’t go to see Tyler. Instead, they argued loudly outside my room, like they wanted to come in and kill me. Maybe they really did.

Luckily, the medical staff did their best to keep them away.

I smiled bitterly and, taking advantage of a brief moment of peace, went home alone, humiliated.

Even now, I don’t get it. What did I do wrong?

I wanted to wait for my brother to calm down and explain, but I was so physically and mentally exhausted that I fell into a deep sleep.

Then, a sudden fire.

Thick smoke woke me.

Enduring the pain, I tried to escape quickly, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t open the door.

In the end, I was trapped and burned alive, reduced to ashes.

After I died, my soul drifted. I saw my brother and sister-in-law at the scene, chatting and laughing. Cold smiles on their faces.

My brother grinned maliciously. "He crippled my son—he deserved to die!"