Rebirth: We Play by My Rules This Time

Bree Webb sat on the edge of the couch, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Her jeans were faded from too many washes, and her canvas shoes were fraying at the seams. Everything about her screamed poverty and pity.

She looked up at me with those big doe eyes, with tears rolling down her cheeks.

In my last life, this would've been the moment I caved completely.

The Whitmores were one of the most prominent business families in the city, and we'd always been big on charity. Bree was the scholarship student we'd sponsored for three years, from high school through college. We covered her tuition and living expenses, all of it.

When I found out she was being mistreated at school, I didn't think twice. I brought her into our estate, fed her well, and treated her like a little sister.

And what did I get in return?

She wanted to marry into money, so she drugged my brother Eric Whitmore's drink. Eric, who was launching his own company, had his whole future ahead of him.

She stumbled out of his room with her clothes half undone, sobbing to the press that her sponsor had "assaulted" her. To protect the family's reputation and the company's stock price, we had no choice but to grit our teeth and take her in.

But her greed was a bottomless pit. She teamed up with her deadbeat cousin and picked the Whitmore empire apart piece by piece.

In the end, Eric broke under the pressure. He developed severe depression and jumped from the 28th floor.

The shock was too much for my parents. They both died in a car accident not long after.

The Whitmores went bankrupt, and Bree sent loan sharks after me until I had nowhere left to run.

The blood on the pavement from my last life, with the image of Bree standing above it all with that cold sneer, lined up perfectly with the helpless young woman sitting in front of me now.

"Leah, sweetie, look at this poor thing. This house has three floors and over a dozen rooms sitting empty. Just let her stay in one of the guest rooms downstairs. Think of it as doing good deeds," my aunt, Lorraine Faulkner, chimed in from the side, coffee in hand, putting on her best saintly act.

I shot her a cold look. When the Whitmores went under in my last life, Aunt Lorraine and her side of the family wasted no time circling like vultures, carving up whatever was left.

"Leah, all I need is a corner to put a bed. I promise I won't be any trouble. I'll do the laundry, the cooking—anything. I'll pay you back, I swear!"

When I didn't respond, Bree shot to her feet, and her knees started to buckle, like she was about to throw herself onto the marble floor.

This was her go-to move. For Bree, dignity was just a credit card she could swipe whenever she felt like it. She'd drop to her knees, play the victim, and guilt everyone in the room into giving her what she wanted.

I stepped aside, dodging the performance. "No need for all that. We don't do the kneeling thing here. You want to move in? Sure."

A flicker of triumph crossed Bree's eyes. Aunt Lorraine was already nodding, ready to praise me for being so generous.

I took my time finishing the sentence. "But we do it by my rules."

"R-Rules?"