My Ex-Husband's Dream Girl Was a Man

At the sound of a voice, Derek Finch screamed toward the doorway.

"I'm here! Save me! Hurry!"

His voice cracked, shrill and pathetic—a far cry from the cold, ruthless man who had watched me die on New Year's Eve.

The girl recoiled, startled by the sudden shout. Seeing a figure amidst the flames, her face twisted in distress. "How are you even in there? The fire... it's too big. I..."

"I'm stuck!" Sweat streamed down Derek's face, stinging his eyes as panic took hold. "Get me out! You have to find a way!"

The girl peered into the inferno, coughing as thick smoke filled her lungs. She covered her nose and shook her head, backing away. "No way. It's suicide. I can't save you alone. I'll go find security—they'll be here soon."

She turned to flee.

"Don't go!"

Derek shrieked, terror seizing him. "I'm a Finch! My father is Vincent Finch! Get me out and I'll give you a million! No—two million! Anything you want!"

In this city, the Finch name carried weight, but two million dollars was life-changing.

The girl froze.

Slowly, she turned back, hesitation giving way to greed. She stared at Derek, then at the roaring fire, and bit her lip. "Two million? You swear it?"

"I swear! I promise!" Derek nodded frantically. "Just get me out! I'll transfer it immediately!"

Decision made, the girl rushed toward the doorway.

I stood in the shadows, watching dispassionately.

In my previous life, my first move had been to cut the gas valve and smother the source before daring to approach the steel frame. But this girl lacked basic common sense. Spotting a bucket of water nearby, she didn't think twice. She heaved it up and splashed it directly into the heart of the flames.

"Don't—!"

Derek's scream merged with the roar of the explosion.

The secondary blast blew half the doorframe off its hinges. Flames erupted outward, licking the ceiling and engulfing the room in a wave of heat. Derek let out a blood-curdling shriek as his body convulsed.

Then came the smell—the sickly sweet stench of burning flesh.

His hands.

Moments ago, he had been gripping the lab bench for support. Now, exposed to the flash fire, his skin curled and split, leaving his hands a charred, bloody ruin.

The blast knocked the girl off balance, but the thought of two million dollars drove her forward. Gritting her teeth, she lunged through the smoke, grabbed Derek's arm, and hauled him backward with all her strength.

"Stop! It hurts! Let go!"

Derek's wails were guttural, piercing the roar of the fire.

His right leg was still pinned under the steel frame. Her violent yank tore at the trapped limb, sending spasms of agony through his body.

"My hands! My hands are ruined!"

Deaf to his pleas, the girl braced her feet and dragged him out from under the debris. Derek collapsed onto the floor, curling into a fetal ball. He clutched his mangled hands to his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

Sirens wailed outside as the fire brigade and ambulance arrived. Firefighters stormed the hallway, suppressing the flames, while paramedics rushed in with a stretcher.

Amid the chaos, I watched them lift Derek onto the gurney. His face was twisted in agony, a mask of pure suffering. I felt nothing but cold amusement.

A debt from a past life, repaid in this one.

Hadn't he wanted to wait for his "department beauty" to save him?

Well, he got exactly what he wished for.