Divine Hell

a whole new world

Maxwell jolted awake, suddenly awake with sweat pouring down his body and his eyes wet with tears—wait, was he crying in his sleep?

His head ached, throbbing like it was about to explode. He ran his fingers through his hair and hissed, trying to recall what had just happened—or perhaps he had dreamed it?

No, Estella Partridge was dead, and it wasn't a dream; it was reality.

But then, how could he be here?

He was shirtless in his room, wearing only his boxers, as he usually did when he slept. Not only that, but his body felt perfectly clean, even though he remembered digging Estella's grave the night before, and it was filthy with sweat mixed with dirt.

He even held her stiff body, her corpse, in his arms.

His eyes widened in shock, and he jumped from his sleep, calling out for his right hand man with a scream as he walked down the corridor of his mansion. His memory had just returned; Alex had been with him the entire day and even until the end; he had been a silent witness to how he had cried and screamed so miserably with Estella's corpse in his warm embrace last night.

Maxwell was absolutely certain that Alex had brought him back to his residence—but the question was, where was Estella?

“Alex!” Maxwell shouted loudly, causing several of the maids working to turn to him, but hesitant to greet them. “Alexei!”

That was until his butler, Ivanov, came over and greeted him respectfully. “Master Alex is in the garden, cleaning his beloved firearm.”

He hissed, “Call him into my room!”

“Has something happened?”

Maxwell paused, looking doubtful. But he also thought that his butler must know about what happened last night. “Where is Estella's body?” he asked impatiently. “Where did Alexei take Estella's body?”

Her sudden question made his brow furrow in confusion. “Miss Estella's body, sir?”

“Don't make me repeat myself,” he hissed impatiently. "Where is Estella's body? I exhumed her grave last night with Alexei.”

Hearing his master say that so casually made Ivan frown in confusion, and several of his maids were shocked, their eyes widening—they hadn't expected him to say that so bluntly.

“Miss Estella is very much alive, sir,” Ivan replied without hesitation. “You poisoned her two days ago at dinner together, and now she's still critically ill in the main room next to yours—as in, inside this room.”

Ivan finger pointed to the twin white doors decorated with pink floral ornaments, the room he reserved for someone special to him, and he let her use that room before he even realized that she was his savior.

“Estella... is still alive?” he asked, confused. “How is that possible?” he repeated. “I...I held her stiff body. She was already dead two days ago when I opened the grave and took her out of the coffin.”

Maxwell looked dumbfounded, panicked even.

“Miss Estella is still alive,” Ivan explained. “Two days ago, you had dinner with her, and you ordered us to poison her, but small enough to keep her alive even after being poisoned—you wanted to torture her slowly before killing her.”

Maxwell's eyes widened, and without warning, he violently flung open the twin doors. His eyes caught sight of Estella lying there, her eyes tightly shut—she was on a respirator and an IV line. But now, she was still breathing; she was very much alive and not cold and stiff, just as he remembered her from that night.

His body stiffened, as if glued to the marble floor beneath him, as the sight of Estella unfolded before his eyes. Hesitant to believe it, his eyes continued to stare at her beautiful face. Estella was there, and still just as he remembered her—that exquisite face, that pale white skin, that blonde hair, and oh god, were her eyes still the same as before?

Those eyes, crystal blue like the ocean, sometimes looked so white — colorless, and seemingly bottomless—beautiful. The two eyes that always kept him transfixed, stunned by the uniqueness and beauty presented to him.

“She's... alive?” Maxwell asked in a daze, tears streaming down his face again — just as they had when he had just woken up before. “That's Estella Partridge, isn't it?”

The butler nodded in agreement, and Maxwell breathed a sigh of relief even when his heart was still aching so much. Then he remembered; if he was there and Estella was alive, had he returned to the time before the tragedy?

Maxwell hurried over to Estella, and Ivan followed behind him, quickly closing the door tightly as soon as they were both in the room where Estella lay quietly.

“Why is she lying there like this, refusing to get up?”

“Nightshade, sir,” Ivan replied, his eyes following Maxwell to Estella's side. “You told us to keep her this way for two to four days, as you want to see her suffer and Miss Scarlett will pull some strings for her plan.”

Did he do that to Estella?

“But wasn't she killed on her wedding day?” he asked, a little stuttering and panicked. “I asked our best sniper to kill her, remember?”

Ivan looked at him in confusion, like he was a freak.

“Did you just have a nightmare, sir?” he asked cautiously. “Miss Estella isn't married, and there aren't even any plans for her to marry anyone.”

That was when Maxwell realized the time had turned back — he came back, no, both of them came back to the beginning, before that tragedy unfolded. His head felt so dizzy, thinking about how something like this could happen and was this really his second chance to make things right?

Was God really generous?