All Chapters of Reborn Rich: My Fiancé and Step-Sister Killed Me Once.: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

ARDEN​My phone buzzed against the desk, vibrating right next to my lukewarm coffee. I swiped it open without looking.​"Arden Steele," I said, leaning back in my chair.​"Ms. Steele, this is Mr. Laurent’s office calling," a polished, professional voice rang through the receiver. "He met you briefly at the club. His grandfather says hello, by the way. He’d like to discuss a rebrand for one of his portfolio companies, if you have time this week."​I blinked, my heart doing a little flip. Another one?​"Oh. Wow," I stammered, pulling up my digital calendar. "Um, yes. Absolutely. I have an opening on Thursday afternoon?"​"Perfect. I’ll send over the calendar invite and the preliminary brief. Have a wonderful day, Ms. Steele."​The line went dead. I stared at the screen, a slow breath escaping my lips. Thursday afternoon was officially booked.​This was the second call this week, and the nervous flutter in my stomach confirmed what I already suspected. This wasn't just random luck. Gibso

RITA​The front door had barely clicked shut before Rita was already up out of her chair, her instincts kicking into high gear.​"Okay," Rita said, her voice smooth and entirely calm as she moved instantly toward the ruined tablecloth. "Let's not just sit here staring at gravy, guys. Let me go grab some paper towels from the kitchen."​Nobody stopped her. The entire dining room was locked in a state of absolute shock. Lucas was still staring blankly at the front door like Arden might literally walk back through it at any second, his face pale. Diane had both of her hands pressed completely flat against the dark wood of the table, her knuckles white, as if she literally needed it just to keep herself upright.​Rita glided into the kitchen, finding the dish towels exactly where she remembered them from every other visit. She knew this house inside and out. Coming back to the dining room, she began to efficiently blot at the worst of the mess, sweeping the ruined mashed potatoes into a s

ARDENI still hadn't apologized for the disaster at the dinner table, and honestly, I was never going to. I was so certain Diane was whispering in his ear, telling him every single day that I was completely in the wrong, and he still wasn't ready to grow a backbone and argue with her about it. Which meant Lucas and I stayed exactly where we’d been for three long, agonizing weeks now—polite, distant, and cold. Neither of us was saying the word that would end it outright, and honestly, I didn't want it any other way. ​The distance between us made it incredibly easy for someone else to slide right in, though. Lucas had been spending his weekends "seeking family advice," which was really just code for letting Rita console him. Oh, Rita had been to four more family dinners at the Sharp house in that exact span of time. At the office, she always framed it to me with this sweet, pitying sigh, claiming she was just "trying her best to help us patch things up" and be a bridge for the family

ARDEN​I didn't take their hands. I stood up and brushed the dirt off my jeans myself, my face a mask of absolute calm as I looked at them.​"Accident. Right," I said, my voice ice-cold.​That evening, the scheduled truth or dare game in the main lodge got incredibly ugly, incredibly fast. Everyone was crowded around the roaring stone fireplace, and a guy from accounts, who was already three drinks deep, leaned forward with a nasty grin.​"Okay, real question for Arden," he said, loud enough to hush the room. "Is it true you're sleeping with all three of them? Gibson, Park, and Laurent? Because, honestly, that's really the only theory that actually adds up."​The entire room went dead silent. Dozens of eyes locked onto me, waiting for me to cry, storm out, or freak.​"Interesting theory," I said, tilting my head and letting a small, cold smile touch my lips. "Especially coming from the guy who got his last promotion because his wife's brother literally sits on our advisory board."​Th

Arden ​I spent forty minutes standing in front of my closet before I finally admitted the truth: nothing I owned belonged at a Mercer family gathering. My everyday corporate suits felt entirely wrong for this, and the few formal pieces I had felt too loud.​I ended up ordering a deep green dress online with next-day delivery. When it arrived on Friday, I tried it on twice, checking the seams and the fit in the mirror until I finally trusted it.​The invitation itself had felt like a complication the moment it arrived. Part of me knew that accepting it was reckless, maybe even audacious, considering the sheer messiness of our last meet up as ourselves. But the temptation was too loud to ignore. I want to see him.I still didn't know what I was supposed to say to him when I do. Do I apologize? I wasn't entirely sure, but I knew I wanted to go to him.​When the driver arrived at noon on Saturday, the reality of the choice settled in. The drive out took nearly an hour, the tight cit