The pungent stench of toxic gas crept from the chemical plant, unseen but deadly.

At home, I sat curled on the couch, a steaming cup of hot chocolate in hand, engrossed in my favorite TV series.

My husband’s voice interrupted my calm, his tone sharp with urgency as he called for my help. I glanced at him briefly, unfazed and returned to my leisurely pastime.

In my past life, the scene had played out differently.

The moment he called for aid, I sprang into action, mobilizing the rescue team and coordinating the evacuation of the city’s population. My haste, however, proved disastrous.

A catastrophic explosion obliterated everything, killing the rescuers and countless citizens.

“Serena,” he had roared at me then, his voice raw with fury, “I warned you—chemical plants are flammable and explosive! Why did you only send a handful of people? You sent them to their deaths!”

The weight of his accusations had been unbearable. My colleagues echoed his anger, branding me an ambitious opportunist whose recklessness caused the tragedy. The families of the victims, grief-stricken and enraged, took justice into their hands and beat me to death.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day of the explosion.

***

“Serena,” Zoey's voice chirped, pulling me from my thoughts. She sat beside me, her smile bright and unassuming.

“Arthur's retiring next year. Everyone knows you’re the best candidate to lead the Sunnydale Rescue Unit!”

Her words were honeyed, her gaze filled with admiration.

It was the same scene. I had returned to the day it all began.

In my previous life, I had trusted Zoey’s flattery, allowing her to oversee the city’s evacuation during the chemical disaster. She had assured me the crisis was resolved and promised accolades for my leadership.

But just as relief washed over me, the captain stormed into my office, his face dark with rage. Cold steel handcuffs clamped onto my wrists.

The full horror of the situation unraveled too late. The explosion had obliterated not only the rescuers but also the citizens we had tried to save.

My husband’s condemnation still echoed in my ears.

“Your misjudgment destroyed the city! Hundreds of thousands dead because you couldn’t listen!”

His voice was laden with disgust.

Then came his final words, piercing me deeper than any physical wound.

“You ignored my warnings to grab the limelight, to solidify your promotion. You used human lives as stepping stones.”

Even my beloved daughter turned against me.

“My mother valued her ambitions over lives. She’s unfit to lead—or to be my mother!”

My family had declared me guilty and the city’s grief-stricken survivors carried out my punishment.

I died a failure, stripped of dignity.

Zoey, however, thrived. She became the rescue captain, married my husband and turned my daughter against me. The three of them became a picture-perfect family, living off the compensation paid for my supposed negligence.

***

“Serena, your hot chocolate’s getting cold!” Zoey’s voice jolted me back to the present. She smiled, offering the drink with feigned warmth.

Was this the same hot chocolate that would later be used as evidence of my supposed intoxication during work?

I took it and drank, locking eyes with her. She beamed, oblivious to the storm brewing in my mind.

My thoughts swirled with questions.

How had my team’s strength been reduced from hundreds to just a few? Could my husband, a senior executive at the plant, have manipulated the situation to frame me? And my daughter—my precious child—why had she turned against me so easily?

The puzzle pieces refused to fit.

Yet, a flicker of clarity ignited within me.

I grabbed my phone and began to make calls, my resolve hardening with every moment.

***

At 02.00 a.m., my husband’s name flashed on my phone screen. His voice would carry the same desperation as before.

But this time, I wouldn’t answer.

With deliberate defiance, I powered down my phone and severed the line to the rescue team office.

The game had changed.

This time, I would uncover the truth and protect those I’d once lost. I wasn’t just rewriting the story; I was reclaiming my life.

The hum of quiet filled the room as I unplugged the network cables and surrendered to sleep.

***

"Serena! Wake up! Something happened!"

Zoey's panicked voice shattered my dreamless rest like a thunderclap.

I blinked, disoriented, as she continued, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "The chemical plant is leaking toxic gas! There are flammable and explosive materials inside. If we don’t act fast, there could be a massive explosion—hundreds of thousands could die!"

Groggily, I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

The dormitory, conveniently situated near the rescue unit, was alive with commotion. My colleagues scrambled to dress, pulling on boots and jackets in haste. Others rushed to vehicles outside, engines roaring to life.

Still half-asleep, I watched the chaotic scene unfold. The urgency of the moment was palpable—except to me. A cold detachment settled over me and I finally broke the silence.

"Why are you all in such a rush?" My voice was sharp and commanding, cutting through the noise. "Did I say we would proceed with a rescue?"

Zoey froze mid-step, turning to gape at me. "What? Serena, you’re the most capable leader in the rescue team! This is a crisis that could destroy the entire city! How can you not act?"

I raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the bedframe, my tone dripping with disdain.

"Really? As far as I know, that chemical plant is outside my jurisdiction. It’s not my responsibility. Besides, my husband works there—if there’s such a disaster, why didn’t he call me directly?"

Her expression darkened, but I continued, unrelenting. "Zoey, we might have a good relationship, but don’t think you can manipulate me with jokes about human life."

The room fell silent as my pointed questions hung in the air.

Zoey’s confidence faltered, her face a mask of frustration.

***

She stormed closer, voice rising in anger. "Serena, this isn’t a joke! People will die! How can you just sit there while others suffer? What if the plant explodes?"

The murmurs of discontent grew louder among my colleagues. Some cursed under their breath, others openly questioned my callousness. Even those who once admired my leadership began to exchange doubtful glances.

But I stayed calm, holding my cup of hot chocolate like a shield, its warmth grounding me amidst their outrage.

A thin smile played on my lips as I observed the escalating chaos.

In my previous life, I had acted decisively at Zoey’s urging, orchestrating every detail of the rescue with precision. And yet, the explosion had wiped out everyone involved.

I had paid with my life and my reputation for trying to save the day.

Not this time.

Now, I sat unmoved, watching the tension boil over.

Several younger team members flushed with anger but hesitated to act against my authority. Others muttered under their breath, recording my indifference on their phones.

Finally, Zoey’s desperation reached its peak. She knelt before me, gripping my pant legs tightly.

"Serena, I beg you! This isn’t about promotions or positions—this is human life! The chemicals in that plant could level the entire city, like an atomic bomb! Do you really want all those deaths on your conscience?"

Her tears flowed freely now, but they only spurred my colleagues into action.

"She’s right, Serena!" one shouted. "How can you be so heartless? Are you really choosing your career over the city’s people?"

Another pulled out their phone and began live-streaming the confrontation. The camera was pointed directly at me as accusations flew thick and fast.

"If you’re not sending a rescue team, we’ll expose you!" the live-streamer declared.

Just then, Captain Arthur burst into the room, his face flushed with anger. The room quieted as all eyes turned to him.

Zoey immediately rose and ran to him, tears still streaming as she pointed at me accusingly.

"Captain Arthur, you need to stop Serena! She refuses to act! She said the rescue isn’t worth the risk because she’s about to take your position anyway!"

The room buzzed with murmurs of agreement as Zoey pressed her case, her voice trembling with righteous indignation.

"How can we trust someone like her to lead? If she’s this cold-blooded now, what will she do when she’s officially in charge?"

The weight of their collective judgment was palpable, but I remained unshaken, meeting Arthur’s gaze with cool defiance.

Let them accuse.

Let them rage.

I had already lived this nightmare once and this time, I wouldn’t be their scapegoat.

Zoey’s fury burned like an unquenchable fire, her every word dripping venom as she painted me into the role of a remorseless villain.

Arthur’s face, meanwhile, was etched with frustration, the weight of the accusations and the escalating disaster bearing heavily on his weary features.

With Zoey’s exaggerated narrative fueling the fire, I had become a scapegoat—a selfish deputy captain willing to sacrifice countless lives for personal ambition. In her words, I would rather see the city poisoned and destroyed than let my chances of promotion be tainted.

Arthur’s phone buzzed incessantly, a grim reminder of the unfolding catastrophe. The toxic gas leak had already sparked small explosions, becoming the top story on social media. Panic spread as higher authorities began to take notice.

Arthur turned to me, his tone sharp and accusing. "Serena! As the deputy captain of this team, you’ve truly let me down."

I remained unruffled, my expression unreadable.

Then, with a faint, almost taunting smile, I replied, "Arthur, you’re about to retire soon. Why bother stepping into this mess? After all, it’s my husband and daughter at risk here—I’m not even complaining."

The tension in the room thickened as I added nonchalantly, "But fine, if you insist, I’ll arrange the rescue. Don’t blame me if it’s a waste of time and resources."

***

I directed the team with an air of detachment, ordering them to gather gas masks, equipment and vehicles. Despite the collective unease, the rescue convoy rolled out into the smoke-choked night.

As the vehicles sped toward the disaster site, I scrolled through my phone, tracking the growing outrage online. The explosion had made headlines, drawing massive public attention.

Glancing at the others, I remarked with chilling calm, "By the time we get there, the worst will already be over. If we’re lucky, we’ll just be collecting bodies. Maybe the higher-ups will reward my prudence with a banner for the wall."

My words hung heavy in the air, met with a wave of silent fury.

Zoey’s face crumpled with worry, her voice trembling as she cried, "Serena, if this disaster spreads, if more lives are lost—no one will forgive you, not the rescue team, not the people."

The vehicles arrived at the plant and chaos greeted us. The air was thick with toxic fumes, flames licking at the shattered remnants of machinery. Smoke billowed, obscuring the devastation.

Arthur wasted no time, directing rescuers to dive into the chaos. Meanwhile, I lingered near the vehicles, observing the frenzy with detached interest.

Then I saw them: two rescuers emerging from the toxic haze, carrying a small, motionless figure.

My heart seized. It was my daughter.

My husband came running, his grief boiling into rage.

Without hesitation, he struck me across the face, his voice cracking as he shouted, "Serena, you delayed the rescue and killed your own daughter! You’re not even fit to be called a mother!"

His accusations spilled out, raw and damning. "You said once that you’d do anything to become captain. I thought you were joking. But now I see—you’d sacrifice your own family for that title."

Tears streaked his face as he clutched our daughter’s limp body. "I called you, Serena. Over and over. Why did you turn off your phone? Were you so afraid this would ruin your chances?"

His despair was magnified by the presence of reporters, their cameras capturing every moment of his heartbreak, every word of his condemnation.

Zoey took the stage with righteous indignation, stepping into the limelight effortlessly. "Serena, we’ve been colleagues for over a decade. But I can’t defend you this time. If you had acted sooner, so many lives could have been saved."

Her voice rose, stirring the crowd’s emotions. "Is your promotion really worth the lives of an entire city? How can you live with yourself if the city is destroyed?"

Her words were like gasoline on a fire. The crowd, already on edge, turned their ire toward me. Their glares burned with hatred; their mutters carried the weight of their collective disgust. They wanted vengeance.

The arrival of inspection team vehicles added a dramatic flourish to the scene. The convoy of official cars parked in an intimidating row, their flashing lights piercing through the smoke.

Zoey wasted no time. She marched toward the inspectors, her voice loud and resolute.

"I have something to report!"

Gesturing toward me with a trembling hand, she declared, "Serena, the deputy captain of our rescue team, abused her power and ignored the lives of the city’s people—all for the sake of her own promotion. If Captain Arthur hadn’t stepped in, today’s tragedy would have been far worse."

Her words struck like a hammer, positioning herself as the team’s savior while painting me as a heartless schemer. She turned to Arthur, her voice softening with calculated admiration. "Arthur deserves all the credit for today’s rescue efforts. Without him, we’d be mourning far more lives."

Zoey’s performance was flawless. She had not only cast me aside but also secured her path to power. By aligning herself with Arthur in his final days as captain, she ensured her rise would seem natural and justified.

As the inspection team listened, cameras continued to roll and the weight of the city’s hatred pressed down on me. Zoey had thrown me to the wolves with chilling precision.

And yet, amidst the chaos, I remained calm, my mind racing.

This wasn’t over—not yet.

The scene was tense as the inspection team stepped out of their vehicle, their expressions unreadable. Their gazes swept over me, pausing briefly, as Zoey seized the moment to strike.

You really had this planned perfectly, I thought, watching her with cold amusement.

Zoey’s voice rang out, brimming with righteous indignation.

"I have evidence!" she declared, pointing toward me. "There was a toxic gas leak at the chemical plant and Serena ignored the calls for help! She even stopped others from launching a rescue. All because she didn’t want to jeopardize her promotion next year. I was there. We were all witnesses!"

I met her accusations with a sneer. "You speak so nobly of responsibility, Zoey. Yet, if you were so concerned about saving lives, why didn’t you lead the rescue yourself? Were your legs tied? Your hands bound?"