Beyond the Flames of Regret

Chapter 1

Edward Sinclair had never imagined his life would take such a tragic turn.
Betrayed by his stepmother, deceived by a scoundrel, exploited by his beloved younger brother, he had distanced himself from the one person who truly cherished him—all for the sake of those three.
After his death, his soul floated above the blazing inferno, watching helplessly as that person he loved cradled his lifeless body, engulfed by the flames. Heartbroken and filled with regret, he could only mourn.
And then, unexpectedly, he opened his eyes and found himself reborn, back to a time before everything fell apart.
In this new life, Edward Sinclair vowed to take revenge on those who wronged him and repay the kindness shown to him. Most importantly, he swore to love that person he had yearned for, more fiercely than before.
Reborn.
Outskirts, on a hillside.
A luxurious mansion was being consumed by a furious blaze, flames shooting high into the night sky.
The flickering light painted the dark surroundings, while thick black smoke spiraled upward, creating an eerie sight at this late hour.
Inside the mansion, a tall, handsome man lay gently on the sofa in the living room, tightly holding the lifeless body of another man in his arms.
With deep affection, he gazed into the closed eyes of his beloved, showing no concern for the rising heat around him.
The fire raged on, its intensity increasing. The acrid scent of burning flesh filled the air, yet the handsome man showed no sign of fear or panic.
He pressed a soft kiss to the forehead of the man in his arms, then closed his eyes, holding him tightly, a faint, relieved smile gracing his lips.
Margaret Fairchild, no matter where you go, I will be with you.
The merciless flames quickly swallowed their figures, and from above, Edward Sinclair gasped in disbelief, screaming madly, yet no sound came out.
Pain, regret, guilt—all of these emotions tangled within him as he watched their bodies disappear into the fire. Edward Sinclair felt his sanity fracturing, and even in his deepest sorrow, not a single tear fell from his eyes.
As the flames reduced their bodies to ashes, Edward Sinclair finally ceased his futile screams, drifting aimlessly, his expression now void of hope.
He lost track of time until the fire was eventually extinguished, a crowd gathering outside—the police, journalists, and Margaret Fairchild's family.
Edward Sinclair stared blankly at them, and a swell of rage surged within him. He hated his own foolishness, the ugliness of humanity, the unfairness of life.
He loathed this ruthless world and the cycle of fate.
Ensnared by overwhelming hatred, he lifted his gaze to the endless darkness before him, his transparent facade twisting into something monstrous.
Suddenly, a powerful force yanked at him, and a surge of pain coursed through him, pulling him away and dragging him into darkness. Before losing consciousness, he swore,
Margaret Fairchild, if there is a next life, I will cherish you and love you wholeheartedly.
...
Edward Sinclair groggily opened his eyes, a splitting headache pounding at him as the noise around him swirled chaotically. Shaking his head, he regained a fleeting sense of clarity.
“Hey, Edward, you alright? If you can't handle it, stop pretending.”
“Right? You barely drank anything and already passed out. So pathetic!”
A man in front of him slapped his cheek lightly, sending a sting through Edward's face. Staring at the familiar face, confusion filled his eyes.
Lucas Greene...
Wait, isn’t Lucas dead?
Dead... dead.
His dark eyes widened in shock, and Edward stared at the man, who instinctively recoiled at his startled expression.
Edward froze for a moment, then scanned his surroundings.
This is... a private room in The Black Boar Tavern.
What... is happening?
He thought he was dead...
Edward's eyes grew wider as he took in familiar but strange faces around him, and he went completely still.
“Hey, are you okay?” The man named Lucas Greene asked, swallowing hard. Edward's fearsome gaze had startled him, as if he were witnessing a ghost.
“Edward, Edward.” He finally came back to reality, staring at the man before him with uncertainty.
“Damn it, you’ve really lost it from drinking,” Lucas sighed in relief at Edward recognizing him, then gave him a light thump on the head, causing Edward to wince in pain.
The sharp sting felt so real that Edward slowly lifted a hand to touch his hurting forehead, and in an instant, he burst into laughter.
“Hahahahaha…”
He was reborn.
He had actually been given another chance at life.
Before Lucas Greene could react, Edward abruptly stopped laughing and grabbed his hand tightly, his voice urgent. “Lucas, what year is it?”
“Uh... it’s, um, 2012.”
2012...
Had he really gone back eight years?
That means he was only twenty, just starting college.
Edward withdrew his gaze, ignoring Lucas's bewildered expression. Containing his excitement, he quickly pulled out his phone and turned it on. The screen read July 8, 2012.
July 8...
He remembered this day. It was the day they received their college acceptance letters, and that evening, a group of friends had planned to celebrate at The Black Boar Tavern.

Chapter 2

Lucas Greene was his childhood friend and classmate.
Margaret Fairchild... Margaret Fairchild, I'm back.
The thought of her name, of the person herself, and of that haunting scene where he saw his own lifeless body consumed by flames sent a chill through Edward Sinclair. His heart inexplicably ached.
In his previous life, Edward Sinclair had wronged Margaret Fairchild more than anyone else.
That foolish man had loved him for over a decade. Even when Edward repeatedly rejected him, even when Edward's disdain turned to hatred, Margaret Fairchild never harbored resentment.
Even after Edward’s death, that foolish man had dared to embrace his corpse and take his own life...
How deep the love must be to drive someone to suicide over another's death.
Yet by the time Edward realized the truth, by the time regret washed over him, it was far too late.
Margaret Fairchild, you were so foolish.
Stumbling out of The Black Boar Tavern, Edward was suddenly enveloped by an overwhelming heat. Strangely, instead of discomfort, he felt a curious pleasure in it.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the somewhat foul air as he scanned the streets filled with racing cars, and for a moment, everything felt real.
Just as he reached for a taxi, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Glancing at the screen, he saw “Mother” flashing back at him. Edward froze for a moment before swiping to answer.
“Edward, where are you? It's so late, and your mother is worried sick about you.” The familiar gentle voice on the other end felt like ice creeping into his veins.
Seraphina Quinn, his stepmother.
A woman who appeared as gentle as a flowing stream but had a heart as treacherous as a serpent’s.
In his previous life, Edward Sinclair had fallen for her sweet facade for a full fifteen years, only realizing before his death that it was all an act.
Seraphina—Quinn.
As memories of his past life came rushing back, a surge of hatred consumed Edward. He gripped his phone tightly, his fingers turning pale from the pressure.
“I'll be home soon,” he managed to suppress his anger, keeping his voice steady. However, a glint of murderous intent flashed in his striking peach blossom eyes.
“Oh, okay. Just be careful on your way home.” Seraphina Quinn sounded slightly taken aback, her lovely eyes narrowing momentarily before she regained her composure.
After hanging up, she reflected on Edward's tone, frowning slightly.
Did he just speak to her in such a curt manner?
“Mom, I'm back!” A cheerful voice echoed from the doorway, pulling Seraphina's attention away as she turned to face the newcomer, her smile instantly transforming into genuine warmth.
“Julian's back! Have you eaten dinner yet?”
“Not yet. Mom, where's my brother?” The seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy, with chiseled features strikingly similar to Edward's, was Julian Sinclair, Edward’s half-brother and Seraphina Quinn’s biological son.
As Edward walked into Sinclair Manor, he found Julian and his stepmother in a jovial conversation, while his father, Lord Richard Sinclair, was quietly reading a newspaper.
What a heartwarming scene—a perfect little family of three.
And here he was, feeling utterly extraneous.
Why did they love you so much?
With a porcelain face, arched brows above gentle black eyes, a petite nose crowned with perfectly shaped lips, every gesture radiated elegance. From afar, she appeared to be the quintessential soft-hearted woman.
It was hard to deny that Seraphina Quinn possessed both beauty and grace, but who knew that beneath that gentle facade lay a heart full of venom?
Suppressing the scorn in his eyes and the surging hatred within him, Edward stepped into the Great Hall. “I’m home. I’m pretty tired tonight, so I’ll head to my room.”
Without breaking his stride, he delivered his cold remark and headed straight upstairs without sparing a glance at the cheerful trio.
“Edward, how rude!” Lord Richard Sinclair looked up to see Edward's indifferent figure retreating, disapproval etched into his features.
“Richard, let it go. Edward must be worn out. Let him rest,” Seraphina Quinn replied, feigning concern, her eyes narrowing with a touch of suspicion as she watched Edward leave.
Edward didn't pause or glance back; he didn’t need to. He already knew the contemptuous expression that Seraphina wore.
Haha.
Seraphina Quinn, did you think I’m still the same Edward Sinclair you could toy with?
A derisive smile curled at the corners of his mouth as he recalled Seraphina's feigned concern behind him. She would soon regret underestimating him.
He would unveil her true nature and make her pay double for the debts of his past life.
Returning to the room he had occupied for over twenty years, he felt a dizzying rush of nostalgia as he looked at the familiar surroundings.
His room was large and adorned simply, yet radiated luxury. Even the curtains were extravagantly exquisite.
Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he had known wealth and leisure from a young age, truly embodying the heir of a prominent family.
In the Royal City of Kyngston, the Sinclair Family was among the Four Great Houses, and Edward Sinclair was the esteemed heir everyone envied and pitied in equal measure.
Unfortunately, in his past life, he had been too blind, arrogant, and naive, manipulated by Seraphina Quinn while remaining oblivious. Under her guile, he had wronged Margaret Fairchild time and again for the sake of a scoundrel.
Margaret Fairchild—the man who adored him...
Margaret Fairchild, the fourth heir of the Fairchild Family, with three older brothers. He was the cherished youngest, doted upon by the Fairchild Couple.
Yet that man, accustomed to being cherished, found himself reduced to nothingness due to the love he bore for Edward—a path steeped in sorrow from the moment he fell in love.

Chapter 3

Haha, Margaret Fairchild, oh Margaret Fairchild, what did I, Edward Sinclair, do to deserve such profound love from you...
In this life, if you're as you were in the last, I will surely accept you and love you well.
If your heart belongs to another, I will smile and wish you happiness.
In this lifetime, as long as you're happy, I would do anything for you.
Having indulged in a hot bath that washed away the scent of alcohol and exhaustion, Edward Sinclair lay back on his bed and began to sort through thoughts of what he had come to know before his demise in the past life.
In his previous existence, Edward Sinclair undoubtedly led a life of failure.
And it was also a short one.
The shocking secret...
In his last life, he was the esteemed young master of the Sinclair family, a figure of envy, yet he ultimately fell to the depths, reduced to a male prostitute...
Yes, a male prostitute.
All of it was thanks to that wicked stepmother, Seraphina Quinn.
Seraphina was an expert in disguise, skilled in manipulation. Ever since she wed into the Sinclair family, she played the role of the gentle and virtuous stepmother with exceptional finesse.
Her acting was so convincing it was a shame she wasn't on stage.
Sigh… it was amusing how foolish he had been.
He had been so naïve in his past life, believing that Seraphina Quinn truly cared for him.
In fact, Margaret Fairchild had warned him, but at that time, he had grown irritated by her affection and, under the influence of Seraphina's sweet talk, had even ended up scolding Margaret harshly for it...
How utterly stupid! Now, as Edward Sinclair thought back, his face burned with shame; he had truly been an idiot in that previous life.
The more he pondered, the more frustrated he became. Edward gave himself two hard slaps across the face, and whenever he thought about how he treated Margaret Fairchild, his chest tightened with guilt and pain.
But, when did that girl Margaret Fairchild start to like him?
Was it in middle school? Or high school?
Edward vaguely remembered Margaret confessing her feelings after he encountered a toxic relationship. He didn’t actually know when her feelings developed.
However, he could recall her saying that she had liked him for over a decade.
So now... it seemed he was beginning to have feelings for her too.
What a silly girl. If he hadn’t met that jerk in his past, she probably wouldn’t have rushed to confess her feelings either.
So foolish...
Remembering how he treated Margaret Fairchild in the past life, Edward suddenly felt like a terrible person.
Ah, forget it, it's all in the past. As long as he wasn’t a jerk in this life, that was enough.
Honestly, Edward felt incredibly grateful to the heavens for giving him this miraculous chance at rebirth. Now that he was calm, he truly felt happy.
It was wonderful; everything could be started anew, and for the events of the past life, he would simply consider them a bad dream.
However, he would not let those who had wronged him in his previous life off the hook.
Especially Seraphina Quinn, that scoundrel, and that jerk, as well as Julian Sinclair, that despicable brat.
And as for his father...
Haha, that man wasn’t even truly his father.
Yes, the current Lord Richard Sinclair was not the real Lord Richard Sinclair.
Not his father.
This shocking secret was revealed to Edward Sinclair just before his death in the last life, told to him by that vile woman Seraphina.
His biological mother had died giving birth to him, and during his last life, it was only when he was ten that his father married Seraphina Quinn.
At that time, he did not care much for her, so he never called her mother during her first three years in the household. His father, knowing his nature, said nothing about it.
However, Seraphina Quinn was very patient. In those three years, she gradually coaxed and manipulated him, eventually winning his trust.
After three long years, he finally called her “Mom” and began to trust her and open up.
It was that same year that his father had a car accident. When he got to the hospital, his father was already in the operating room.
But he had no idea that his father was actually dead and that the one in the operating room was not his father at all.
It was his father's twin brother, Sir Thomas Sinclair, who was his biological uncle.
And that car accident was no accident; it had been carefully plotted by Seraphina Quinn and his uncle all along.
In families like the Sinclairs, most sibling relationships lack any real affection.
Just like his father and uncle, they were twins, but growing up in such a large family had forced them to learn deception and scheming from a young age.
The immense Sinclair family fortune and the battle for the heir position had only soured their relationship further.
From a young age, they had been embroiled in a fierce struggle for the role of the rightful heir.
Eventually, his father gained their grandfather’s favor, prompting jealousy and malice from his uncle.
Years ago, in a bid for the heirship, his uncle had secretly poisoned their grandfather with slow poison. When his father discovered it, their grandfather was furious and severed all ties with the uncle.
This was the cruelty and desperation of being born into a big family.
After that incident, the uncle lost his place in the family and was expelled from the Sinclairs, disappearing without a trace.
Who would have imagined that it would end in such a way?
His father was ultimately framed and killed, while that long-lost uncle took his father's place and lived happily with Seraphina Quinn, enjoying the fruits of his father's labor.
Those two were truly despicable.
And then, there was Julian Sinclair, that little beast, who always loved to steal from him. Anything Edward liked, Julian would be there to snatch it away.
In his last life, even Gideon Blackwood, that jerk, was stolen from him by Julian Sinclair.
In Julian Sinclair's words, even if he didn’t like something, he still had to take it from Edward Sinclair.
It was utterly twisted.

Chapter 4

In his previous life, Edward Sinclair had let the insufferable little creep, Julian Sinclair, off the hook too many times because of Seraphina Quinn. This had only emboldened Julian, turning him into an even bigger menace. Reflecting on it now, it seemed almost unbelievable.
How had he not seen through Julian’s blatant facade before? It was downright ludicrous.
“Just wait,” Edward thought, a smirk playing on his lips as he narrowed his eyes, a cold spark igniting in his dark gaze. “Seraphina Quinn, Julian Sinclair, and Sir Thomas Sinclair—you’ll all wish you hadn’t crossed me. This time, I, Edward Sinclair, will ensure you live in utter misery.”
He knew that if he spoke up, Margaret Fairchild wouldn’t hesitate to pull strings to throw Sir Thomas Sinclair down a peg or two. But Edward had no intention of letting the Sinclair family suffer an easy defeat. This time around, letting them feel true despair would be far more satisfying.
Edward closed his eyes, letting weariness take over. He needed a good night's rest to settle into the reality of his rebirth and “digest” everything that had unfolded.
---
Meanwhile, on the balcony of Fairchild Hall, Margaret Fairchild stared out into the pitch-blackness of the night, feeling a heavy sigh escape her lips.
Downing the last of her wine, she headed back inside her room. Just as she settled back onto her bed, her brother Victor Fairchild barged in without so much as a knock.
“Hey there, sis,” he said casually, plopping down at her bedside. He raised an eyebrow, eyeing her with a bemused look. “Still awake, huh? Thinking about that Sinclair kid again?”
Margaret sighed, accustomed to Victor's habit of skipping formalities. If he ever knocked on her door, she’d probably be taken aback.
“Yeah, it’s just... complicated.” She rolled her eyes slightly.
Victor let out a chuckle. As the second of four siblings, he had watched over his sister since she was young. Aside from her unique orientation, he thought she was perfect in every way. In the Royal City of Kyngston, he believed no one could match her family’s reputation or her own remarkable qualities.
Yet here she was, hopelessly pining over a man, no less—a man who didn’t even seem to know she existed. If she hadn’t been his sister, Victor would probably have just introduced her to Edward Sinclair directly.
“Listen, why don’t we hit The Riding Grounds tomorrow? You could use a break. Get some fresh air instead of stressing out over work,” he suggested, giving her a playful kick on the leg. “I swear, you’re going to end up with gray hair if you keep this up.”
The Fairchilds were at the top of the elite circles in the Royal City of Kyngston, with their family’s immense wealth and influence. The Hawthorne Clan followed them, and the Sinclair Family came in third, with the Lucas Greene family trailing behind.
Victor had taken to medicine and run a prominent hospital, while their eldest brother, Felix, had gone into politics. Their sister, Edna, had built a name for herself as a prestigious attorney. And then there was Margaret, the baby of the family, venturing into the world of business.
What the Fairchild brothers valued most was family, which had forged a strong bond that kept them united without the backstabbing tensions typical in affluent households.
Margaret, now 24, was the youngest by a significant margin—her brothers were eleven, eight, and six years older, respectively. They had spoiled her and remained fiercely protective.
Aside from her family, Margaret had a cold relationship with everyone else, maintaining a space around her that kept people at a distance.
“I want to invite Edward too,” Margaret eventually admitted, a hint of frustration in her voice. “But I’m not sure if he’d say yes.”
She had developed feelings for Edward from her freshman year in college, all while he was just starting high school. Yet now, four years had slipped by without her finding the courage to confess her affection.
It was no secret to her brothers that she had feelings for Edward, but they had never pressured her about it. As far as they were concerned, Margaret’s happiness mattered more than societal conventions regarding love.
“Just pick up the phone and ask him, for crying out loud,” Victor replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, exasperation surging through him. “You’re overthinking it. It’s just a call!”
Victor stood up and stretched. “Well, do what you want, but do try to get some rest. Don’t keep me up worrying about you.”
Margaret watched as Victor left her room, a part of her grateful for his encouragement yet annoyed with him for how he handled the situation.
As soon as the door clicked shut, she made her way to the entrance and closed it. Climbing back into bed, she pulled out her phone and scrolled to Edward’s contact, which bore the simple name “love.”
All her brothers knew about her preferences and supported her decision, but it still felt daunting to be vulnerable with the person she cared for the most.
Margaret took a moment, staring at that familiar number, as anxiety gnawed at her.
“Tomorrow,” she murmured to herself.
Tonight was too late to take that chance.
---
Meanwhile, Edward Sinclair was blissfully unaware that Margaret had tossed and turned all night over him. His slumber was deep and refreshing, and he woke up to the early morning light streaming in.
He stretched lazily and tousled his messy hair, glancing at the clock—it was 7:30 AM, a habitual wake-up time that hadn’t changed even in this new life.
As he sat down for breakfast, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. Little did he know, it was from the one person who occupied Margaret’s thoughts all night long.

Chapter 5

Edward Sinclair didn’t have Margaret Fairchild’s number saved on his phone, but when he saw the unfamiliar number flash on the screen, his mind instinctively turned to her.
He hesitated for a moment, the familiar pang of longing catching in his throat, before he answered the call.
“Edward, have you had breakfast yet?” Margaret’s gentle voice came through, soothing yet haunting.
Her soft tone jolted him, and memories flooded back—of himself enveloped in flames, holding onto a lifeless version of himself.
He blinked hard, fighting back tears, and managed to respond with a soft “Yeah.”
“Edward, we're going to the riding grounds today. Do you want to come along?” There was a hint of nervousness in Margaret's voice that masked any signs of Edward’s turmoil.
He gripped the phone tightly, waiting for his answer, his palms growing sweaty from tension.
“Sure…” Edward blinked again, forcing his emotions back down, taking a deep breath as he glanced out at the bustling street, his icy blue eyes warming slightly.
In the past, Margaret had invited him to the riding grounds during this holiday, and he had turned her down.
She must have felt heartbroken then...
Margaret Fairchild, this time around, no matter what you ask of me, I won’t refuse.
Hearing a soft “Okay” from the other end, Margaret couldn’t hide her surprise and her face broke into a beaming smile. “Where are you? I’ll come pick you up!”
His heart soared, his previously stern expression softening in an instant, his tone lifting with joy, the depths of his eyes sparkling.
“I’m at the North Street station.” Although Edward had driven himself, intending to check out a new property because he planned to move out of Sinclair Manor.
Living there, constantly facing Seraphina Quinn’s deceitful smile, made him worry he would snap and take drastic action.
And as for Julian Sinclair and Sir Thomas Sinclair, he had no desire to see them ever again—or to address Sir Thomas as “Dad,” given the man’s vile nature.
After hanging up with Margaret, Edward strolled toward the station, knowing his car was parked nearby.
He understood that Margaret wanted to get close to him. Now that he had a second chance at life, he was determined to do everything that would make her happy.
For instance, driving his car.
In his previous life, he had never ridden in Margaret's car.
Back then, under Seraphina Quinn’s influence, their relationship had soured, reaching a breaking point in college when Edward met Gideon Blackwood.
Edward, initially straight, found himself inexplicably drawn to Gideon.
When Margaret learned they were together, she confessed her feelings out of anger, shattering their already fragile bond.
At that moment, Edward was too enthralled by the taste of romance to heed her confession; it only fueled his resentment towards her.
Later, he heard every time Margaret drove, it was in a car she never let anyone else use—not even her family.
That car was meant for the one she loved.
When he first heard about it, he thought it was a joke. He couldn’t understand her childish fixation.
It wasn’t until his death that the truth hit him.
Margaret had intended to gift that car to him for his birthday when he turned twenty.
But before the gift could be given, he was swept away by Gideon.
After that, Margaret had driven that car everywhere, never allowing anyone else to sit in it...
Once the call ended, Margaret couldn’t stop the silly grin spreading across his face. He stared unblinkingly at the call log, replaying Edward's soft “Yeah” in his mind, feeling light as a feather.
Victor Fairchild strolled into the room, surprised to find his younger brother grinning at his phone.
“Oh, looks like Sinclair’s boy agreed to join you at the riding grounds,” Victor remarked, raising an eyebrow. Who else could make his normally stoic brother this happy?
“Bro, let me borrow your new car to pick up Edward!” Margaret snapped back to reality, not caring about being teased. This was Edward's first time in his car, and he didn’t want to drive that old one anymore—his brother had just bought a brand-new ride.
Seeing his little brother so elated was rare, so Victor tossed him the car keys without hesitation. “Here you go, it’s all yours.”
Margaret felt a giddy rush, like a lovestruck teenager, overwhelmed with excitement.
Victor's new car was a recently released Lamborghini R9—worth over $8.9 million and limited to only ten in the world.
Luxury cars didn’t impress him much, but if Margaret wanted it, he’d gladly let her use it.
With a mix of nervous excitement, Margaret drove to North Street station. As soon as he parked, he spotted that familiar figure in the distance.
His gaze locked onto Edward, unable to tear it away.
At that moment, Edward was oblivious to Margaret watching him. He leaned lazily against his car, his gaze fixed on the ground, lost in thought.
He didn’t even notice when Margaret approached him.
“Edward, sorry to keep you waiting.” Margaret's palms were sweaty from excitement. He looked at Edward softly, captivated as always by the handsome face before him.
Even though they had seen each other just a few days ago, it felt like ages since they last met.
Margaret reined in the intensity of his feelings, careful not to make his emotions too obvious for fear that Edward would sense his intentions and pull away.
Around Edward, he always treaded carefully, trying to keep his feelings at bay, while Edward's every gesture stirred a storm of emotions inside him.

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