My Beloved Has Risen from Death’s Embrace

Chapter 1

Xanthe

was dead.

Her spirit hovered over the graveyard; she was lamenting her tragic fate. Once the heiress of the prestigious Nightshade Group, she had fallen hard for a do uchebag, ending with her family destroyed and herself dead. It was both sad and absurd. Just as her soul was about to dissipate, a strange figure caught her eye.

Underneath the dense pine trees, a sleek, pitch black Rolls-Royce was parked. From it stepped a striking man, who was cradling a bouquet of vibrant, blue-violet irises.

Those bright-colored flowers, vivid and dazzling, were her favorites during her lifetime.

As he approached, she could see his face clearly.

It was hauntingly beautiful sharp, hawkish eyebrows over deep eyes, a straight nose leading to a chiseled jawline. He looked like a masterpiece crafted by the heavens, flawless in every way.

Wasn’t this Orion Lockwood, the prominent heir of the Lockwood Group from Crestwood? What was he doing here, standing by her grave?

Driven by curiosity, she watched as he stopped in front of her tombstone, his eyes intently fixed on the inscription, “Heiress of the Nightshade Group – Xanthea Nightshade.” His tall frame began to tremble, his pupils turning a fiery red, his face ghastly pale against his shocking expression, which made him both unfathomable and dreadful.

Suddenly, a terrifying, guttural laugh broke from his throat, sending chills down her spine,

Why did he look so maddened? Why did his laughter sound so heartbreakingly hopeless?

man got down his knees and began to dig at her

are you doing? Why are you digging up

furious and frantic, snarling around him, but as a mere wisp of a

“Mr. Lockwood! Mr. Lockwood!”

from the car, grasping at his arm pleadingly, “Mr. Lockwood, please stop; Ms. Nightshade’s already

“Get away!”

violently, his eyes blazing, terrifying both the assistant and Xanthea, who stepped back

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dead. She’s not

those words, his knuckles bleeding as they mixed with the dirt, yet unaware of the pain,

cry, and Xanthea was stunned, trying to recall any past entanglement she might have

mogul of Crestwood, known for his ruthless tactics that had propelled the Lockwood Group to the top. She barely knew him, only

tried to give her a doll to cozy up to her, which she not only rejected but also stomped into the dirt, vowing never to befriend such a

might have had was through the news she heard. about his pursuit of Miranda Moore, her stepsister, the very one who had

do with her? Why would

with

him when you were alive; why torment him now

assistant tearfully stared at her

was tormenting him? Right now, it

she was relieved that her coffin, made of durable mahogany, was too sturdy for him to open, he pulled out a familiar-looking Swiss

one her uncle had given her for her