Reborn to Ruin: Choking on Karma

My fiancé, Roman, and my own flesh and blood, Tristan, wanted me dead.

All because my little charity case, Gemma, accidentally dropped a string of anal beads in the middle of our high school.

She squeezed out perfect, glistening tears and pointed a trembling finger at me. Claimed I forced her to wear them. At my own wedding reception, they cornered me.

A public execution. "She only sponsored Gemma to feed her own sick fetishes!" Roman shouted. "She forced Gemma to sleep with clients for business deals!

She's a manipulative psycho!" Gemma shrank into Tristan’s chest, a fragile, shattered victim. "She's my benefactor. I had to do whatever she asked. It's fine.

As long as you guys don't think I'm dirty…" The internet ripped me apart. The death threats, the doxxing—the relentless hatred crushed the air out of my lungs.

I wasted away in a dark room, suffocating until my body simply gave out. And Gemma? She rode that victim card straight to the bank.

She snatched up countless endorsement deals for rural charities. The ultimate poster child for resilience. I snapped my eyes open. Lungs pulling in a sharp, greedy hit of air.

I was back in high school. The exact day it all started. Gemma knelt on the floor right in front of me, cradling those dropped silicone beads in her palms. "Please. Just let me go.

I just want to live with a little dignity!" A violent buzz flooded my ears. I didn't hesitate. I didn't blink. I lunged.

Grabbed her jaw, pried it open, and shoved those beads straight into her mouth. Chapter 1 The sensory overload hit me first.

The deafening roar of high school students screaming for the hundredmeter dash. I was back. Senior year track meet. Out on the track, Gemma was dead last.

Her running form was awkward, unnatural. She wasn't even pushing herself, yet her face was flushed a deep, feverish red, skin slick with sweat. She took one wide, strained stride.

Clack. Clack. Clatter. Something slipped from under her athletic skirt. The sharp, hard sound cut through the cheers.

Silicone spheres bounced and scattered across the synthetic track, rolling right to the feet of the crowd. Anal beads. The stadium went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop.

Or, in this case, the relentless, highfrequency buzzing vibrating against the asphalt. Panic hijacked Gemma's features.

Her eyes darted around the horrified spectators before locking dead onto me. She stumbled off the track, legs giving out the second she reached me.

Her knees slammed into the ground. The tears started instantly. "Princess." Her voice cracked. "Please. Just let me go.

I just want to live with a little dignity." She grabbed the hem of my shirt. "I swear I won't make you mad again. I'll do whatever you say." Flawless execution.

Fat, crystalline tears tracked down her pale cheeks. At seventeen, Gemma had mastered the art of looking like a broken, helpless doll. The energy in the crowd flipped.

Hundreds of eyes bored into me, heavy with disgust and pure contempt. After all, what girl would publicly humiliate herself like this unless she was forced?

They were buying her Oscarworthy performance hook, line, and sinker. I knew the truth. She shoved those toys in herself.

All to spice up a quick hookup in the locker room stalls with my own brother, Tristan. They got carried away.

The bell rang, panic set in, and she rushed out to her race without even pulling her underwear back on. A fatal miscalculation.

But Gemma built her entire brand on being the pure, untouched scholarship kid. She couldn't stomach the thought of the whole school knowing she was hooking up in bathrooms.

So, she shifted the target to my back. In my past life, I swallowed the bait. I couldn't watch her throw her future away.

Out of all the charity cases I sponsored, she was the brightest. Straight A's, Ivy League potential. I took the hit to protect her pristine reputation.

I figured the rumors would die down. Senior year was brutal, and once we all scattered for college, the scandal would fade into background noise. I was dead wrong.

Years later, Gemma stood at my wedding reception as my righthand assistant. Then my fiancé, Roman, flipped the script.

He projected evidence of my bullying for every guest to see. "Maeve, you only sponsored Gemma to feed your own sick fetishes!" Roman's voice echoed through the banquet hall. "Why else would you only hand out scholarships to vulnerable girls?" Tristan grabbed the mic next. "Maeve forced Gemma to sleep with clients for business deals.

She's a manipulative psycho! Poor Gemma has been a puppet in her sick games for years." And the girl who drained my bank accounts and stole my life?

She shrank into Tristan’s chest, trembling like a leaf. "She's my benefactor.

I had to do whatever she asked." She choked back a sob. "My body might be dirty now, but my heart is still clean." The sheer audacity of her victim act made acid crawl up my throat.

But the crowd ate it up. They always fell for the fragile damsel routine. Chapter 2 My parents dropped me the second my reputation became a liability.

They severed ties without a backward glance. My own brother, claiming he needed to atone for my sins, dumped endless resources into Gemma's lap.

Her resilient survivor brand made her untouchable. She snagged every charity endorsement in the state. I drowned in death threats and cyberbullying until my body just gave out.

The day my heart stopped in a dark, empty room, Gemma was on live TV accepting a Fan Favorite award. The perfect ugly duckling turned swan. I dragged my focus back to the present.

My eyes locked onto Gemma. She knelt there, chin tilted up, looking at me with big, hopeful eyes.

She actually thought I was still the same pathetic doormat ready to clean up her mess. The corner of my mouth twitched up. I reached down and picked up the silicone beads.

Relief washed over Gemma's face. Then I lunged. I grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanked her head back, and jammed the beads straight into her mouth.

I shoved them deep against the back of her throat. I didn't hold back. My grip on her scalp locked her in place. Her jaw stretched wide open.

I let out a low laugh. "Tastes good, doesn't it? You couldn't wait to shove these in, so eat up." Gemma tried to fight back. All that came out was a wet, gagging choke.

The putrid stench hit instantly. Her stomach heaved. Bile and saliva erupted from the corners of her mouth, splattering down her pristine uniform.

The smell of shit and vomit radiated off her, baking on the hot asphalt. The crowd stood paralyzed. Anyone stepping forward to play hero took one whiff of the air and recoiled.

Half the track team clamped hands over their noses and sprinted in the opposite direction. Gemma’s eyes went bloodshot.

She slumped over, playing the brutalized victim to perfection. Right on cue, Tristan and Roman shoved their way to the front. Their chests heaved, faces flushed red from sprinting.

They took one look at her pitiful state. "Maeve, are you bullying Gemma again?!" They were gasping for air. They hadn't asked a single question.

Just skipped straight to the execution. I didn't loosen my grip on Gemma's hair. I tilted my head, flashing them a sweet smile. "Just teaching a lesson to an ungrateful slut.

How is this bullying? Ask anyone here what they just saw." The vein in Tristan’s forehead throbbed.

He took a heavy step forward. "Maeve, do not test me." He pointed a rigid finger at my chest. "I am telling you one last time.

Let Gemma go." I stared dead into his eyes. "No." Tristan’s jaw clenched tight. His authority, shattered in front of the whole school. He shot a sharp, sideways glance at Roman.

Chapter 3 They flanked me. Left and right. Closing in. Tristan’s face was deadpan.

Ice cold. "Maeve, you brought this on yourself." He took another step. "I'm teaching you a lesson today." Their eyes locked onto the hem of my skirt. Their hands reached out.

They wanted to flip the humiliation back on me. They wanted to rip my skirt up, expose me to the whole school, and drag the spotlight off Gemma. I didn't freeze.

I shoved Gemma forward. Hard. Momentum took over. She pitched forward, arms flailing, and faceplanted straight into the asphalt.

The sudden gust of wind caught her skirt, flipping it up to her waist. It put everything on full display. Especially the fresh, dark bruises blooming high up on her inner thighs.

The impact scraped her knees. She let out a series of wet, highpitched whimpers. That soft, breathy crying, combined with the show she was giving, glued every guy's eyes to her.

The girls whispered, faces twisting in pure disgust. Tristan and Roman instantly dropped me.

They lunged to block her, using their broad shoulders to shield her from the crowd's stares. My eyebrows shot up.

Honestly, I just wanted to keep those two filthy men from touching me. This was a bonus. She had no one to blame but herself.

Everyone just saw the aftermath of her little lockerroom session. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots. Gemma liked it rough.

And there was no way she could pin this mess on me anymore. I smiled. Their glares felt like lasers burning into my skin, but I didn't care. "Don't look at me like that.

Blame yourselves. You two rushed me. I got scared and my hand slipped. If you hadn't freaked me out, I'd still be holding her up." I tossed the blame right back at them.

I didn't try to hide my smirk. Tristan’s jaw clicked. The muscles in his neck strained, practically vibrating with the urge to rip me apart. Too bad he had Gemma crying behind him.

He couldn't leave his precious victim. Roman was even worse. His entire focus was locked on checking Gemma for scrapes. He hadn't even looked me in the eye since he got here.

Two absolute simps. Gemma finally caught her breath. She pointed a shaking finger at me, tears streaming. "It's not enough that you bully me every day?

You have to ruin me in front of the whole school?! I know what I owe you!

I think about paying you back every single day!" Her voice cracked perfectly. "I never say no to you!" "If this is what you want, fine! I'll take it all off!

I'll let you stare!" She wiped her face. "Are you happy now?! I was born naked! You're the ones with the filthy minds! I have nothing to hide!" She finished her little speech.

Her hand gripped the zipper of her track jacket. Her chin trembled with stubborn defiance. But I caught it. A microsecond of pure panic flashing in her eyes. It clicked instantly.

There was something else hiding under that jacket. No wonder she was the only one zipped up to her neck in ninetydegree heat while the rest of us wore short sleeves.

Chapter 4 I let out a short, flat scoff. I looked down at her. "Go ahead. Strip.

Take it all off, and I'll let you walk." Every guy in the front row practically craned their necks out of their sockets. Gemma froze.

She bit her bottom lip hard enough to turn it white. A single, flawless tear slipped down her cheek. Absolute catnip for the crowd. Tristan beat Roman to the punch.

He yanked her flush against his chest. "I've got you," he whispered into her hair. "Maeve won't lay another finger on you." Gemma gave a pathetic, trembling nod.

She curled into a tiny ball against his ribs, playing the shattered victim to the back row.

Roman, pissed he missed his chance to play the hero, locked his crosshairs on me. "When are you going to drop this, Maeve?!" He pointed a rigid finger at my face. "Your viciousness makes me sick." The hatred rolling off his tongue was absolute.

I just stared at him. The ugly sneer twisting his features wiped out whatever decent bone structure he had. A cold, surgical clarity washed over me.

I used to walk on eggshells for this guy. A guy with a mediocre trust fund and a mediocre face. Not anymore. I aimed right for the throat. "So you don't actually like me.

Good to know the devoted fiancé routine was just an act. You just want my family's bank accounts.

Selling your face to lock down a sugar momma so you can skip thirty years of actual work." I tilted my head. "You're nothing but a golddigging social climber." The color drained from Roman's face.

His family was strictly middletier. They only got invites to the country club because he was attached to me. His Adam's apple bobbed.

He forced a stiff, plastic smile. "Maeve, come on. I just thought you were going too far." He took a step closer. "I panicked. I misspoke.

I didn't mean it." He gave me this condescending, heavy sigh, like I was a toddler throwing a tantrum in a grocery store. "Alright, I'm sorry.

Just calm down." He reached out to grab my wrist. I drove my sneaker right into his kneecap.

He stumbled backward, cursing. "Keep your filthy hands off me," I snapped. "Get lost." Roman's face went bruisedpurple.

His jaw dropped open to fire back. "Maeve!" A booming voice cut across the track. Warren, our homeroom teacher, shoved his way to the front.

His face was red with rage. "Bullying your classmates again?!" He stormed right into my personal space. "I told you to stop using your daddy's money to terrorize Gemma!

You need to learn some of her decency! Drop the spoiled rich brat routine right now! You are all equals here! No one owes you a damn thing!" He finished his rant, chest heaving.

Then he blinked. He finally noticed the absolute dead silence. He realized just how massive the crowd surrounding us was. His brow furrowed.

He scanned the track, the disgusted faces of the students, and then looked down. His eyes locked dead onto the dripping silicone beads in my hand.

Chapter 5 His voice spiked an octave. Piercing and shrill. "Your head is full of nothing but pure filth!

No wonder your grades are absolute garbage!" Warren pointed a shaking finger at my face. "Maeve, you're a toxic cancer in this school!

I'm calling your parents!" Warren was the absolute worst part of my high school experience.

He clawed his way up from nothing, but he never outgrew his bitter, glaring chip on the shoulder about money. He knew my trust fund had more zeros than he’d see in a lifetime.

Because of that, he made it his personal mission to hunt down my flaws and publicly humiliate me at every single turn. In my past life, I took it. I respected his title.

I let him walk all over me. Not today.

I let out a slow, flat breath. "Warren." I dropped his title completely. "If we march into the principal's office right now, who do you think packs their bags? Me?

Or you?" I pointed a lazy finger toward the massive brick structure across the quad. "In case you forgot, my family funded that entire science wing.

My name is literally carved into the marble above the doors." Warren's face turned a sickening shade of gray.

I stared at him like he was a piece of trash stuck to my shoe. "My parents built their empire with their own hands. You're obsessed with my money.

It eats you alive that you weren't born into it." I took a step closer. "I show up. I do my work. I don't break the rules.

You're the one screaming accusations without checking a single fact." I tilted my head. "Where are those strict professional ethics you love to preach about? Oh, right.

You don't have any." That struck a nerve. Not just with Warren. Gemma’s face lost all its color. She jumped in to play the righteous defender. "Mr.

Warren is the best teacher in this school!" Gemma cried out. "Princess, you can look down on me all you want, but you can't talk to a teacher like that!" I gave a slow, exaggerated shake of my head. "Is that so?" I flicked my wrist.

The silicone beads arced through the air and hit the pavement right next to Gemma’s sneakers. Smack. Her pupils blew wide. Pure, unadulterated panic.

I smirked. "Warren, I forgot to mention. Those belong to your star pupil. She's the toxic cancer with the filthy extracurriculars.

If you care so much about the classroom environment, expel her." The hypocrisy was blinding. The second the target shifted to Gemma, Warren instantly backpedaled.

Suddenly, it was just normal teenage curiosity. He started lecturing the crowd about protecting a girl's delicate reputation, practically begging everyone to keep their mouths shut.

He swept the whole scandal under the rug with a gentle pat on the back. Gemma couldn't hide the smug little glint flashing in her eyes. I didn't care.

I turned my back on the whole pathetic circus and walked off to collect my track medal. Idiot. High school was a shark tank. There were no secrets here.

The news of Gemma's little silicone toys and her lockerroom hookups spread like wildfire. By fourth period, every student on campus knew.

Her pristine, untouchable angel persona shattered into a million pieces. Guys started tracking her in the hallways, their eyes stripping her bare. And the best part?

She misread the predatory stares. She walked around with a confident little strut, actually thinking she was just having a glowup.

Chapter 6 When I officially cut off her scholarship funds, she barely even blinked. "Keep your money," she scoffed. "I've got a line of guys waiting to take care of me.

Any one of them could cover my bills." I blocked out the noise. I buried myself in prep books, ruthlessly drilling my weak subjects.

Missing out on the Ivy League had always been a thorn in my side. This time around, I wasn't leaving anything to chance.

Before long, senior year's final mandatory class trip rolled around.

To build grit and class unity, the school dragged the entire graduating class on a brutal hike into a remote mountain town.

By the time we hit the campsite at noon, everyone was dead on their feet. But the fresh air and open space finally cut through the academic tension.

The chaperones let us off the leash, and people scattered to roam free. I was sitting on a log, resting my legs, when Gemma suddenly materialized.

Her cold shoulder routine from the past few weeks vanished without a trace. "Maeve, come walk with me to the woods over there?" She reached out to hook her arm through mine.

I dodged her grip. She didn't flinch.

She just blinked those big, watery eyes at me, playing the innocent doe. "The locals said the view is amazing, but I'm too scared to go alone…" Alone?

The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. This didn't happen in my past life. If she was really scared, she would have dragged Tristan along. Not me.

Plus, I had just watched Roman slip into those exact woods five minutes ago, a sleazy, anticipatory grin plastered on his face. Roman. The trap clicked into place perfectly.

A dense, unfamiliar patch of woods far off the main trail. No security cameras. No witnesses.

It was the perfect place to ruin a girl, ensuring she'd have to swallow the trauma in silence.

I stared dead into her eyes. "No." She whined and pushed, trying to wear me down, but I didn't budge an inch.

Realizing it was a lost cause, she stamped her foot, grabbed Tristan by the wrist, and dragged him toward the tree line to find Roman. An hour passed. Then two.

Assembly time hit, and the three of them were nowhere to be found. The entire senior class stood around waiting. As the minutes dragged on, the teachers started panicking.

Search parties were formed. Warren marched right up to me, his face red. "Maeve, tell us exactly where they are! Gemma vanished right after talking to you.

You did something to her!" He pointed a shaking finger at the dense brush. "It's dangerous out here!

How can you be so vicious at your age?!" I let out a dry, dismissive laugh. "They sneaked off to do whatever sick things they do in their free time.

How is that my problem?" By now, the massive search party had pushed deep into the woods. Suddenly, a sound cut through the rustling leaves. A highpitched, breathy moan.

Part pain, part pure ecstasy. "So… so good!" Gemma's voice echoed out. "Faster!" Then, a man's voice barked out, raw and filthy. "Two guys and you're still begging?

You're such a slut." It was loud. Booming. The absolute thrill in his tone carried perfectly through the silent woods. Tristan's voice.

Every single person in the search party froze dead in their tracks. The expressions on their faces were absolute gold.

Everyone was dying to push through the bushes and watch the live show, but with the entire faculty standing right there, nobody dared to take the first step