Chapter 1: Rose Petals and Family Lies

I never thought I’d hear those words: my older sister has come down with Redthorn Sickness.

The words hung in the air like a storm warning, heavy and impossible to ignore. I could almost feel the cold dread creeping into every corner of the house, like a winter draft. In our small town, you learned to brace yourself for bad news, but this—this was a whole different kind of fear.

If she wants to survive, she has to spend every night with the one she loves. Seriously? It sounded like something out of a fairy tale, but the doctor’s face said otherwise.

The family doctor’s voice shook as he tried to explain it, glancing from my mother’s pale face to my father’s clenched jaw. My mother twisted her wedding band, my father’s knuckles white on the kitchen table. For all our talk of science and hard work in the Harper house, this diagnosis felt like it belonged in an old Southern ghost story, not our living room. I felt a chill run up my spine just hearing it.

But her husband? He died overseas. Army. Gone.

The memory of Captain Zack Foster’s funeral still lingered in the air—a folded flag, the echo of Taps, my sister’s black dress blending into the overcast sky. The whole town had lined the street, hats in hand. Grief doesn’t care about ceremony.

Evelyn had come home a shadow of herself, her wedding ring strung on a black ribbon around her neck.

Dad was pacing the living room, glasses slipping down his nose, muttering about second opinions and miracle drugs. Mom just sat there, staring at the family photo above the mantel, lips moving in silent prayer. They were at their wits’ end. The house felt too big, too empty—like we were all waiting for something to break.

Just then, my sister caught sight of my husband. She coughed up a mouthful of blood-red rose petals.

The petals scattered across the hardwood like a magician’s trick gone wrong. I stared, frozen, as crimson stained her pale hands. My heart stuttered. The scent of roses—sweet, metallic—filled the room, sharp as a slap. Carter’s eyes widened, and Mason whimpered, hiding behind my legs.

The family doctor stared in shock for a beat, then his face lit up with overjoyed disbelief. For a moment, the only sound was the frantic clatter of his stethoscope as he fumbled for it, nearly dropping it in his excitement. “Unbelievable! He’s the cure, standing right here.”

Nobody moved. Then Dr. Harris let out a shaky, half-hysterical laugh, the kind that bubbles up when hope finally breaks through despair. My mother clapped her hands to her mouth. Dad blinked, as if trying to wake from a dream.

My parents hesitated. My little boy’s eyes shone with hope.

Mason tugged on my sleeve, his eyes wide as saucers. He didn’t know the science, but he knew about love and loss. “Mommy, is Aunt Evie gonna be okay now?”

Carter scoffed, but his hand was clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white. He couldn’t hide it, no matter how he tried to laugh it off.

Carter always prided himself on being rational, but right now, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. He tried to chuckle, but it came out brittle. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. His jaw worked, silent and tense.

In my last life, I refused. I remember every detail—the way I stood my ground, hands shaking, refusing to let Carter go. The shame, the anger, the heartbreak. I thought I was protecting my marriage, but all I did was sign my own death warrant.

Regret is a heavy thing to carry. Especially when you have no one left to blame but yourself.

This time, I smiled.

I forced a smile, even though my heart was pounding. There’s a kind of freedom in letting go—of pride, of fear, of the illusion of control. I looked at Carter, then at my sister, and made my choice.

“My sister’s life is more important. Honey, please—save her, even if it costs you.”

My voice was steady, but inside, a storm raged. I squeezed Mason’s hand, willing myself to believe it was the right thing. The words tasted strange, but right.

It just so happens the Blue Lantern Club’s most sought-after male escort is being auctioned off tonight.

The thought flickered through my mind, absurd and yet oddly fitting. Fate had a twisted sense of humor. If I was going to change the story, I had to move fast. No time to hesitate now.

I couldn’t be late for the lantern-lighting ceremony.

I checked my watch, heart pounding. Maple Heights only had a handful of places that came alive after dark, and the Blue Lantern Club was the crown jewel—mysterious, exclusive, always buzzing with rumor. Tonight, it would decide more than just a winner.