

Chapter 1 of My Fiancé and Brother Chose Her,So I Burned It All Down
The poor scholarship girl I sponsored had a habit of ruining things while meaning well. I'd scored a perfect 1600 on the SATs, and she went behind my back and switched my Ivy League application to a lowly trade school.
When I found out, I confronted her, my voice shaking with rage.
"Why did you touch my application?"
The scholarship girl burst into tears and threw herself into my fiancé's arms.
"Pamela Pruitt, with a 1600 you can only get into one school. A trade school only needs a 400, so you could get into three. I just thought it was such a waste for you to spend a score that high on a single school."
Listening to this inhuman logic, my fiancé kept his arm around her, utterly unbothered.
"Fern didn't do it on purpose. She just doesn't understand these things. She meant well and it went wrong, that's all. Do you really have to nitpick like this?"
My brother took her side too.
"Trade school's not bad either. Easy to find work after. Don't be so unforgiving. You sound like a shrew."
I fought tooth and nail to reach the trade school, withdraw the application, and refile a second round of college applications.
I waited until the very last moment before the deadline to submit. The scholarship girl brought me a coffee to help me stay sharp. I refused it, and she spilled the whole cup across my laptop, and my application never saved.
I fell into a depression. The scholarship girl, feeling guilty, came to apologize with a bottle of liquor.
I told her I was allergic to alcohol and couldn't drink. She poured it into my drink anyway, and the allergic reaction killed me.
My fiancé and my brother both comforted her.
"She just had bad luck. It had nothing to do with you."
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of submitting college applications.
——
"Pam, I heard you scored a 1600. With a score that high, you can't be careless with your applications."
At the sound of that familiar voice, a shudder ran through my whole body. The college application page glowed on my laptop screen, and in an instant it hit me. I'd been reborn.
I looked at Fern Harding standing before me, all smiles, and slammed my laptop shut.
Seeing me close it, displeasure flickered deep in her eyes, though her face stayed sweet and bright.
"Pamela, let me put together a game plan for your applications. I'll get you into the best school possible."
My fiancé, Benjamin Simmons, heard this and his eyes went soft.
"Fern, you're always so kind, always ready to help."
Color rose in Fern's cheeks.
"Oh, come on. Pamela's helped me so much before. I just want to do everything I can to pay her back."
With that, Fern reached for my laptop. I snatched it up, dodging her hand, and refused in a cold voice.
"I already know exactly what I'm applying to. You don't need to worry about it."
In my last life, Fern had used this same excuse to try and file my applications for me. I'd turned her down gently.
And she went and changed my application from the Ivy League to a lowly trade school.
It wasn't until the acceptance results came out that I learned my application had been altered.
I traced it back to Fern, and I confronted her, furious.
"Why did you touch my application?!"
Fern dissolved into sobs and threw herself into Benjamin's arms.
"Pamela, I just thought a 1600 was such a waste on one school. A trade school only needs a 400, and with a 1600 you could get into at least three. I only wanted you to get into more schools."
My chest ached with anger, but Benjamin only pulled her closer.
"Fern didn't do it on purpose. She just doesn't understand these things. She meant well and it went wrong. Do you really have to nitpick like this?"
My brother, Lionel Pruitt, planted himself in front of Fern too.
Remembering that past life, I couldn't help clenching my fists, nails biting into my palms.
Fern looked at me with a face full of innocence.
"Pamela, applying well matters even more than testing well. I've been studying up on applications a lot lately. I can definitely get you into the best school."

















