Reborn to Ruin: Exposing His Fake Angel

My fiancé tossed me into a pit of vipers without a single drop of remorse. Fangs sank deep into my flesh. Whitehot agony ripped through every nerve in my body.

I convulsed, suffocating on my own screams. Weston stood at the edge of the pit, looking down at me with dead eyes.

He was finally getting his twisted revenge for his precious Gemma—the girl he’d secretly been obsessed with all along. He was utterly convinced I was the one who murdered her.

He didn’t know the pathetic truth. That bitch had scammed me out of my money, only to blow every last dime on a used motorcycle for Knox, her deadbeat gangbanger boyfriend.

That was the only reason she couldn’t afford a real doctor when she got knocked up. She bled out from a botched abortion because of her own sheer stupidity.

The venom burned through my veins like acid. I let my eyes slide shut, letting pure hatred anchor my last breath. Then, my eyes snapped open. I gasped for air.

I was sitting right on the edge of my bed in my dorm room. I looked down at my hands. My skin was completely unscarred. And standing right in front of me was Gemma.

Weston's precious little victim was staring at me through her trademark fake tears, begging me for a loan all over again.

Chapter 1 The screech of cicadas outside the window grated against my eardrums. My head snapped up. The same old classroom. The same scratched chalkboard.

And standing right by my desk, the same pathetic figure—Gemma. She wore a faded uniform.

Her eyes were redrimmed, and her thin fingers twisted together in a nervous knot. "Sloan, could you loan me some cash?" Her voice wobbled. "My mom is really sick.

She needs emergency surgery…" My heart hammered against my ribs. Cold sweat slicked my palms. I knew this scene perfectly.

Seven years ago, on this exact day, Gemma used the exact same look and the exact same bullshit excuse to scam me out of thirty thousand.

That was money I’d scraped together from two whole years of scholarships and allowance. I was back.

Reborn right into the exact moment that derailed my entire life. "How much do you need?" My voice came out dead flat.

A flash of victory sparked in Gemma's eyes before she instantly pulled her pitiful mask back on. "Ththirty thousand… I know it's a lot, but I'm completely out of options…" A single tear hung perfectly on her eyelashes, ready to drop.

It was a look designed to break anyone's heart. That was exactly how she played me the first time around. "Please don't tell anyone. My mom is so proud…" she whispered.

The exact same lines. I watched her flawless performance, my nails digging halfmoons into my palms. She wasn't going to save her mother.

In my past life, she took that thirty grand and blew it on a used heavy motorcycle for Knox, her deadbeat gangbanger boyfriend.

Then, flat broke, she used whatever spare change she had left to get a backalley abortion.

She went into septic shock from the infection and was dead in less than three days. "Sloan, you're the best…" She reached out to tug at my sleeve.

I opened my mouth to shut her down, but the classroom door crashed open. "Gemma!" A tall figure stormed down the aisle. He grabbed Gemma's arm, shoving her securely behind his back.

The air trapped in my lungs. Weston. The future tech mogul. My absolute nightmare. He was standing right in front of me.

He was in his high school uniform, but he already carried that suffocating, razorsharp authority that would define him years later. He slammed both hands down on my desk.

He leaned in, trapping me under his shadow. "Sloan, put away your vicious richgirl act." The world stopped spinning. In my previous life, Weston wasn't even here today.

He didn't find out about the loan until after Gemma was already in a body bag. "I…" I started, but my voice died in my throat. I looked closer at his eyes.

Those weren't the eyes of an eighteenyearold boy. They were heavy. Suffocating. They burned with pure, unadulterated hatred, deep trauma, and complete recognition.

Just like I saw right through Gemma's scam, Weston saw right through me. He remembered. We both died, and we both came back. Ice water flooded my veins.

We stared at each other over the scratched wood of the desk. In a split second, the invisible lines were drawn. "Weston?

What are you doing here?" Gemma peeked out from behind his broad shoulders. Her brow furrowed as she scanned the electric tension crackling between us. Weston broke eye contact.

The moment his gaze landed on Gemma, the murderous chill vanished. "I heard about what happened at home," he murmured. "I came to help." His voice was incredibly soft.

A sickening, complete 180 from the monster who had just threatened me. "But…" Gemma blinked, flustered. "I didn't tell anyone…" "Let's go.

I'm taking you to the hospital." Weston's tone left no room for argument. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door.

Just before he crossed the threshold, he threw one last look over his shoulder. The message in his glare was perfectly clear. Don't even try it this time.

Chapter 2 I watched their retreating backs. My nails dug so hard into my palms they almost broke the skin. So that was it.

Weston was back too, and he was still dead set on the delusion that I was the one who murdered Gemma. The memory of my past life slammed into me. Being locked in the attic.

Being shoved down the stairs. The hiss of the snake pit. His voice echoed in my ears: "You knew Gemma was pregnant!

Why did you drag your feet and refuse to lend her the money for treatment?!" He had no idea the money never went toward any treatment.

Before she died, Gemma completely twisted the truth about the loan. And now, history was setting up to repeat itself. But this time, I wasn't going to be the sacrificial lamb.

Weston dragged Gemma down the aisle.

She stumbled, a flash of genuine panic cracking her perfect mask. "Weston, what are you doing?" she whined, trying to twist her wrist out of his grip.

Weston's grip tightened like a vice.

His tone left absolutely zero room for negotiation. "I'll handle the situation with your mother." I watched the pathetic display, a cold smirk creeping onto my lips. Interesting.

In my past life, Weston didn't know a thing about this "loan" until after Gemma was already dead. Now he was stepping in on day one.

It only proved one thing—he really had died and come back. Gemma stared at him, totally lost. "But…" "No buts." Weston cut her off.

His eyes flicked straight back to me. "Some people love playing the saint, but God knows what kind of toxic schemes they're hiding." I slammed my textbook shut.

The loud crack echoed off the walls. I met his glare headon and scoffed. "Weston, if you want to play the savior, open your own damn wallet.

Don't act generous with other people's money. You just look like a total idiot getting led around on a leash." The entire class turned to stare at the three of us.

Whispers erupted across the room. "Why is Weston suddenly stepping up for Gemma?" "I heard there's a family emergency…" "Sloan is loaded, why won't she just help the poor girl out?" I yanked the zipper on my backpack.

The metallic screech silenced the whispers near me. It was the exact same guilttrip tactic they pulled in my last life.

The peer pressure and gossip had forced my hand to "lend" her the cash. Not this time. "Sloan…" Gemma turned her puppydog eyes back on me. I looked up.

Weston was glaring daggers at me.

He gave a slow shake of his head, radiating pure, unfiltered hostility. "Gemma, since Weston is so eager to bail you out, I'll stay out of it." I flashed a sugarsweet smile. "After all, you two are obviously much closer." Gemma froze.

She clearly hadn't expected me to shut her down so brutally. Weston narrowed his eyes. He scanned my face, trying to read my play. "Let's go." He hauled Gemma out of the classroom.

Right before they hit the hallway, he threw me one last heavy look. It was a promise. He was going to watch my every move. I watched them disappear down the corridor.

My pulse hammered against my ribs. The second they were out of sight, I pulled out my phone. I hit the Voice Memos app.

From this second forward, I was recording every single conversation. Neither Weston nor Gemma showed up for the afternoon classes. I sat at my desk and opened my notebook.

While the teacher droned on, I started a list of everything I remembered from my past life. [1. Gemma's offcampus boyfriend is Knox. Vocational school dropout.

Constantly extorting her for cash.] [2. The only people who know about her pregnancy are Knox and her best friend, Penelope.] [3.

The illegal clinic is located at 37 Peace Road in the old downtown district. No security cameras.] [4.

Weston didn't find out until three days after Gemma died.] I pressed the tip of my pen hard against the paper. Everything was completely derailed.

Weston had already hijacked the timeline. Could Gemma still pull off her fatal scam? Chapter 3 The final bell shrilled. I shoved my books into my backpack and headed for the gates.

Just as I stepped onto the pavement, a broad chest blocked my path. Weston. "We're talking." His voice was dead flat, an absolute command.

I arched an eyebrow. "We have absolutely nothing to talk about." His fingers clamped around my wrist like a steel vice. A sharp ache shot up my arm. "Let go." He didn't budge.

Instead, he crowded into my space, dropping his voice to a lethal murmur. "I know exactly what you're trying to pull." My pulse skipped a beat, but I kept my face deadpan. "Oh?" "Don't think getting a doover changes a damn thing." His breath brushed my ear. "Gemma isn't going to die.

And you—" He paused, a muscle feathering in his jaw. "Don't even think about hurting her again." There it was. He was back.

And he was still clinging to the delusion that I was the villain.

A dry laugh escaped my throat. "Weston, you've got one minor detail completely wrong." "What?" "I didn't kill Gemma.

She killed herself." I stared dead into his eyes. "With a little help from your blind, pathetic obsession." The blood drained from his face.

His grip on my wrist tightened to the point of bruising. "What the hell are you talking about?" I lowered my voice to a razorthin whisper. "Do you even know what she did with that loan?

She bought a motorcycle for her deadbeat boyfriend, and then went and got a cheap backalley abortion." He violently shoved me back. "Shut your mouth!

Don't you dare slander her!" I stumbled but caught my balance, a mocking smirk already in place. "Don't believe me? Go do a background check." His chest heaved.

Pure rage ignited in his stare. "Sloan, I am going to protect her this time.

If you try to pull any of your sick stunts—" "Or what?" I tilted my chin, daring him. "You'll murder me again?" Weston froze. The accusation hit him like a physical blow.

He never expected me to put it all out in the open. "You admit it?" A tremor wracked his voice. "In the past life, it really was you…" "I didn't admit a damn thing." I cut him off cold. "But if you lay one finger on me, I promise I will make you regret getting a second chance at life." I spun on my heel and walked away.

My spine was rigid. The second I rounded the corner out of his line of sight, my knees gave out. I slammed my back against the brick wall. My lungs burned.

I sucked in frantic gasps of air. It was a massive gamble. But he needed to know I wasn't the same helpless prey he slaughtered in our last life.

By the next morning, the classroom air was thick with toxic drama. Gemma sat at her desk. Her eyes were puffy and red. A classic postbreakdown look.

Weston stood guard over her like a junkyard dog, glaring at anyone who drifted too close. I strolled to my seat like I didn't have a care in the world.

The second my backpack hit the floor, the waterworks started. "I'm completely out of options…" Gemma choked on a sob. "The hospital is demanding the deposit…" A clique of girls swarmed her. "Don't cry, Gemma.

We'll figure something out." "Should we set up a GoFundMe for you?" I held back a scoff and flipped open my textbook. It was a carbon copy of my past life.

She played the tragic victim for an audience, weaponizing the peer pressure until I had to fork over my cash. "Some people are just totally heartless." One of the girls spiked her volume, making sure her voice carried. "Sitting on all that money and watching someone literally die." I kept my eyes glued to the page.

But I could feel it. Weston's gaze boring a hole into the side of my head. He was waiting for me to crack. Chapter 4 "Alright, settle down," Ms.

Cynthia, our homeroom teacher, walked in and rapped her knuckles on the podium. "Listen up, I have a major announcement." The classroom went dead silent. "The Ivy League early admissions special testing begins next week.

If you can't secure one of the top two recommendation letters, you'll be rotting away at some community college." Ms.

Cynthia pushed her glasses up her nose. "Who wants to fight for this fullride scholarship?" My pen froze on the paper.

In my past life, giving Gemma that loan meant my parents cut off my allowance. I couldn't afford the prep materials and had to drop out of the running.

This full ride was my golden ticket. It was the first step to rewriting my destiny. "I'm in." My hand shot up first. Ms. Cynthia blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Sloan?

Are you sure? The testing pool is incredibly cutthroat." "I'm sure." My voice was rock solid. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Weston's jaw clenching.

He never bothered with this in our last life, but I knew his academic stats were flawless.

Sure enough, a split second later, his hand went up. "Count me in." The classroom erupted. "Weston?

Seriously?" "I thought he only cared about basketball." "Oh, this is going to be good." My face remained a blank mask, but every muscle in my back went rigid.

Weston was coming straight for my throat. "Alright. The two of you will stay after school for a preliminary screening. We'll see who actually has what it takes." Ms.

Cynthia turned to the board and started the lesson. For the next fortyfive minutes, Weston's glare burned a hole straight through my spine. The bell rang.

I grabbed my hall pass and headed out. I barely made it around the corner when a hand clamped onto my arm and yanked me into the stairwell.

Gemma. "Sloan, why won't you help me?" Tears pooled in her eyes, right on cue. "My mom is dying…" I violently ripped my arm out of her grip. "Is she?

Then why won't Weston just hand over the cash?" Gemma's pathetic expression completely froze. "I… he…" "Let me guess.

He insisted on paying the hospital directly, didn't he?" I took a step forward, invading her space. "So your little cash scam completely blew up in your face?" The blood drained from Gemma's face. "Whwhat are you talking about…" "How's Knox doing?" I dropped my voice to a whisper. "Is he still harassing you to buy him that heavy motorcycle?" Gemma stumbled backward, her eyes bugging out like she was staring at the grim reaper. "How… how do you know…" A slow smile stretched across my face. "I know everything.

For example…" I let my gaze drop deliberately to her flat stomach. She slapped both hands over her stomach.

She looked like she was going to pass out. "I don't know what you're talking about!" She spun around to bolt. I grabbed her by the shoulder, stopping her dead. "Not so fast.

Since you can't afford a real doctor, where exactly are you planning to go? 37 Peace Road?" Gemma's facade shattered. She gasped for air, clutching her chest. "Who are you?

What are you?" Her voice shook violently. "You can't be Sloan…" "I'm the one collecting your debts." I shoved her back and dusted off my hands. "Tell Weston to back the hell off.

Or I'll air out every filthy secret the two of you have." She scrambled up the stairs like a terrified rat.

I smoothed out the wrinkles in my uniform and pushed the stairwell door open. My eyes locked straight onto a wall of solid muscle. Weston. His face was a mask of pure, lethal fury.

He had heard every single word. Chapter 5 The fluorescent library lights buzzed, casting a harsh, sterile glow across the empty tables.

I dug my knuckles into my burning eyes and scribbled down the final solution for the Ivy League prep test.

Five advanced calculus textbooks lay splayed open in front of me, their pages dogeared and worn. My notebook was a chaotic web of formulas and derivations.

The special testing was exactly two weeks away. I couldn't afford to waste a single second. "Hey, we're locking up." The librarian rapped her knuckles against my desk.

I glanced up at the wall clock. 11:30 PM. I shoved my books into my backpack, slung the heavy deadweight over my shoulder, and headed out into the night.

The autumn wind hit me like a sheet of ice. I zipped my jacket all the way up to my chin and picked up my pace toward the dorms.

Ever since I blew the lid off Gemma and Weston's little charade last week, the classroom atmosphere had turned completely radioactive. Gemma stopped begging me for cash.

Instead, she’d shoot me these terrified, sidelong glances like I was some kind of monster waiting to strike. Weston didn't even bother hiding it.

He tracked my every move with the absolute deadeyed stare of a man hunting a serial killer. Worse, Gemma started weaponizing the rumor mill. "Did you hear?

Sloan's family is actually loaded, but she's a total cheapskate." "When Sydney got sick and asked to borrow fifty bucks for meds, Sloan actually made her sign an IOU." "Her parents own a business.

I heard they're dodging taxes…" The whispers spread through the class like a highly contagious virus. In my past life, I would have panicked.

I would have scrambled to defend myself. Now? I just let the static wash over me. I didn't even waste the breath to shut it down.

It was just Gemma's pathetic retaliation for ripping her mask off. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Ms. Cynthia. [Come to my office after third period tomorrow.

Time for the preliminary screening.] My fingers tightened around the phone. My pulse hammered against my ribs. This Ivy League recommendation was my ticket out.

I was going to crush it. I rounded the corner of the science building and stopped dead. A muffled, chokedback sob drifted through the dark.

I eased my weight onto the balls of my feet and crept toward the sound.

Hidden in the pitchblack shadows behind the gym, Gemma was pinned flat against the brick wall by a massive, towering figure. I recognized him instantly. Knox.

Her dropout gangbanger boyfriend. "Where's the cash?" Knox's voice was a low, lethal threat. "You promised it to me this week." Gemma's shoulders shook violently. "Just… just give me a few more days…" "A few days?" Knox grabbed a fistful of her collar. "The deadline for that motorcycle is tomorrow!" "But Weston is watching me like a hawk…" Gemma sobbed. "He said he’s paying the hospital directly.

I can't get my hands on the physical cash…" Knox spat out a vicious curse and shoved her backward. "Useless bitch!" Gemma stumbled, slamming hard against the brick.

She let out a pained gasp, immediately wrapping both arms protectively around her stomach. Pure instinct took over.

I whipped out my phone, launched the camera app, and aimed the lens through the moonlight. "I don't give a damn how you do it," Knox jabbed a finger right in her face. "By tomorrow night, I want to see thirty grand in my hands, or else—" He snatched her backpack and violently ripped the zipper open, rummaging through the contents. "What are you doing?!" Gemma lunged, desperately trying to claw it back.

Knox yanked out a faded pink wallet.

He ripped the cash straight out of the slot. "This will cover the down payment." "That's everything I saved…" Gemma's voice completely broke. "This is just pocket change!" Knox twisted his hand into her hair, yanking her head back, forcing her to look him in the eye.

He let out a vicious scoff. "Two grand won't even buy a single tire for that bike! Are you playing me for a fool?!" Chapter 6 Knox tossed the empty wallet onto the dirt.

He crowded into Gemma's space, trapping her against the brick. "Listen to me.

If you try to screw me over, I'll march right into your little high school and tell everyone you're knocked up." All the blood drained from Gemma's face. "Don't…" "Then get the damn cash." Knox slapped her cheek.

Hard. "Tomorrow night. Usual spot." He turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows. Gemma slumped against the wall, choking on silent sobs.

I held my breath and carefully backed up a few steps.

Then, I stomped my sneakers loudly against the concrete, making my approach obvious. "Who's there?" Gemma snapped her head up, pure panic in her eyes. "Just me." I strolled out of the shadows, arching an eyebrow in fake surprise. "What are you doing back here?" She scrambled to her feet, frantically swiping at her tears.

She snatched her empty wallet from the dirt and shoved it into her backpack. "Nnothing…" I let my eyes slide over her red, puffy face without a single comment. "It's late.

You should get back to the dorms." She gave a frantic nod and practically sprinted away. The second she was out of sight, I pulled up my camera roll.

The lighting was garbage, but the subjects were crystal clear. Gemma and Knox. I even caught a few frames of him violently snatching her wallet. But the jackpot was the last photo.

I zoomed in. It perfectly captured Gemma wrapping her arms protectively around her stomach, her face twisted in agonizing pain. A cold smirk touched my lips.

My arsenal was getting fully loaded. The next morning in calculus, Ms.

Cynthia announced the final results for the Ivy League recommendation. "After reviewing the screening tests, Sloan will be representing our school for the early admissions special testing." A smattering of polite applause drifted through the room.

I accepted the win with a blank face. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Weston's jaw clenching. He had deliberately bombed the final essay question on yesterday's test.

He clearly didn't want the spot. "Congrats." Sydney, the girl sitting in front of me, twisted around in her seat.

Her tone was dripping with venom. "I heard you're hoarding all your cash for the prep materials instead of helping a dying classmate." I met her glare headon. "Who exactly told you that?" Sydney blinked, totally thrown off by the direct confrontation. "Everyone is saying it…" "Who is 'everyone'?" I didn't yell, but my voice carried perfectly across the quiet classroom. "Gemma?" Two rows up, Gemma's spine snapped completely rigid. "II just…" Sydney stammered. "Sydney," I slammed my textbook shut. "Last month you asked to borrow fifty bucks for boba, and I handed it over without a second thought.

Right?" A furious red flush crawled up Sydney's neck. "Ththat's different…" "As for Gemma," I spiked my volume, making sure the entire room heard me. "She asked me for thirty grand.

Claimed her mother is practically on her deathbed. Yet, she conveniently refuses to tell anyone which hospital she's admitted to.

Doesn't that strike any of you as a little weird?" Dead silence dropped over the classroom. Gemma whipped around in her seat. Her face was chalkwhite. "Sloan!

Sstop making things up…" "Am I making it up?" I locked eyes with her. "Why don't we call your mom right now on speakerphone?

Let's check in on her condition." Gemma's bottom lip quivered violently.

She couldn't force a single word out. "Enough!" Weston violently shoved his desk forward as he stood up. "Sloan, where do you get off bullying Gemma like this?" "Bullying?" I scoffed. "I'm just asking a few basic questions." "Her family is going through a crisis!

What's wrong with wanting to keep it private?" Weston practically radiated selfrighteous fury. "But you—you're sitting on a mountain of cash, refusing to help, and now you're playing the victim!" Chapter 7 Weston's words were a lit match dropped into a powder keg.

The whispers exploded across the room. "He's right. Thirty grand is literal pocket change for Sloan." "Gemma is practically a saint.

There's no way she'd lie about something like this." "Sloan is such a coldblooded bitch…" I scanned the room, burning every single face into my memory.

It was an exact replay of my past life. The mob instantly rallied behind Gemma's fake tears, and no one gave a damn about the truth.

I pushed my chair back and stood up slow. "Weston," I said, locking eyes with him. "If you trust her so blindly, why don't you just write her the thirtythousanddollar check?" Weston's jaw locked.

A muscle ticked in his cheek. I knew exactly why his wallet was glued shut