REBORN

Ep 1: Prologue

WRITER'S POV

Dacora Solace... A 25 hear old woman wedded into an arranged marriage to Niel solace by her father. She trusted her father's decision but did know her life would twist from that day onward...

Dacora’s hatred wasn’t born in a day. It grew, a slow-burning resentment wrapped in silence and pain.

When she married Niel, she had believed, perhaps naively, in the fantasy. He was older, stoic, and strikingly powerful—CEO of a vast empire that dwarfed even her family's wealth.

She had stepped into his mansion wearing white and hope, dreaming of soft mornings and shared dreams. Instead, she was given cold walls and colder glances.

The night that changed everything happened just weeks into their marriage. There had been a dinner. A celebration, of sorts, meant to honor their union. Sabrina, her closest friend, had insisted on coming.

Dacora had welcomed her with open arms. She remembered how Sabrina had arrived with a bottle of vintage wine, smiling, light-hearted, full of compliments and laughter. Niel, though distant as ever, had humored her.

What Dacora hadn’t seen was the brief flick of Sabrina’s wrist, the way she poured his wine when no one was watching. The toast had been warm; the hours that followed were not.

That night, Niel came to her room, intoxicated in a way he had never been before. He was not himself. He was rough, possessive, and in the morning, he remembered nothing. Dacora remembered everything.

She hated him for it. From that night forward, her heart sealed itself in frost. She refused to sleep beside him. She refused to speak more than necessary. She cooked nothing.

She lifted no finger to build a home. Her hatred deepened when he never apologized—not because he refused, but because he seemed unaware of the gravity of what had happened.

And he never retaliated. That made her angrier.

He let her ignore him. He let her insult him. He let her loathe him—and bore it all with unyielding silence. He remained distant, formal, yet never cruel. His punishment was his absence, and to Dacora, that hurt more.

Ariana, their daughter, watched it all. At just five years old, the child had already taken her father’s side. She adored Niel’s quiet strength and resented her mother’s coldness.

Every time Dacora reached out, it was met with a wall of silent rejection. And yet, Dacora loved her deeply—perhaps the only piece of her world not completely eroded.

Then came Sabrina again.

“You can’t live like this forever,” she’d said over coffee, legs crossed, voice smug. “You need someone who sees you. Who touches you like you matter.”

And then came Shawn. Sabrina’s so-called brother. Younger, charming, warm. He appeared like the spring after a bitter winter. Their connection was slow at first, innocent.

They met for coffee, laughed over art and music. Then the meetings grew longer. Then more private. Then came the guilt. And finally, came the choice.

Dacora didn’t hide it. She told Niel plainly. She was seeing someone. Niel didn’t shout. He didn’t argue. The next day, her driver changed. The day after that, she couldn’t leave without permission.

The mansion became a silent cage.

She pretended to change. Cooked once. Wore a smile. Even asked about his day. Niel, for a moment, relaxed. She escaped. She fled back to Sabrina and Shawn. It only worked once.

Then came the final escape.

Ariana saw her mother’s brokenness one night and said, “Do you want to leave, Mommy?”

Dacora stared at her daughter’s serious eyes.

“Linda left me this key. I didn’t tell anyone,” Ariana whispered.

That night, Dacora fled under moonlight, barefoot and desperate.

Sabrina welcomed her back. "You're free now," she said.

For a week, it seemed true. But then came the night of fire.

It began with soft footsteps and the whisper of a door. Sabrina, silent as a thief, stood over Dacora’s sleeping form. A needle. A drug. Shawn carried her out.

She awoke tied to a chair, dizzy, surrounded by the thick stench of gasoline.

“What’s happening?” she croaked.

Sabrina grinned. “Truth, darling. It’s time you heard it.”

“We’re not siblings. Shawn and I? We’re lovers. This entire thing—from the moment you invited me to that wedding dinner—was planned.

That night you hate Niel for? That was me. I put something in his wine. He wasn’t himself. He never knew. But I wanted to make sure you’d never love him. I needed you broken.”

“Why?” Dacora wept.

“Because he’s rich. And you’re dumb. And I like money.”

Shawn stepped forward, his smile bored. “You fell for everything. I was never into you. Just your bank account.”

Gasoline soaked the floor.

“You’re not leaving here, Dacora.”

The last thing she saw was a match. Then the pain. Then the fire.

She screamed Niel’s name, not out of hate—but regret.

Too late.

She finally knew the truth.

And it destroyed her....

Her life flashed beforehand her eyes as the fire continued to consume her...

Just once... She hoped she could've seen her family again ....