Reborn Heiress: My Vengeance Begins

1: 1

After my father made the cover of a business magazine, the poor girl I'd been sponsoring insisted on coming to his birthday party.

In my last life, I felt sorry for her and brought her in to feel what family warmth was like.

But that same night she crawled into my father's bed, faked the evidence, and claimed she'd lost a baby in a moment of passion.

My mother couldn't take the shock. After the divorce, she was committed to a psychiatric hospital.

My father had no way to clear his name, and he wasted away and died.

She took the fortune my parents had built and became the darling of the whole country, the "heroine who rose from nothing."

Later she came to see me out of nowhere.

"Big sister, you were born rich, and yet your family was destroyed and everyone's gone. Doesn't that make you angry?"

"All the money your family made belongs to me now. Doesn't that make you angry?"

"I'll tell you the truth: your father never touched me. Doesn't that make you angry?"

"And I owe it all to you, for taking me to your father's birthday party."

1

When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day Harper Lawrence was coming to the birthday party.

She was standing right in my office doorway.

Wearing the dress I'd given her, holding an embroidered "Hundred Peaches for Long Life" panel, her face full of expectation.

"Mary, I heard Mr. Harrington is turning fifty."

"You sponsored me for four years, and I could never repay it."

"So I embroidered this hundred-peaches piece myself. It's just a little something from the heart."

Every inch of her the humble, grateful girl pouring out her heart.

But that fawning face made me want to be sick.

In my last life, she lay in my father's bed, blood beneath her, and in front of a room full of guests she cried out:

"Mr. Harrington, you just lost your head for a moment."

"The baby's gone, but we can always try for another."

My father couldn't say a word in his defense.

That birthday became the shame of his life.

My mother broke down, and after the divorce she was committed to a psychiatric hospital.

My father was cornered by the shareholders, and for the sake of the company's image he gave Harper a name and a place in the family. A year later, he took his own life in his depression.

Harper transformed herself into the grassroots heroine the whole internet adored, the girl who "rose above being taken and abused by a powerful man."

"Mary?"

Harper said hopefully:

"Mr. Harrington looked so admirable in that magazine. You and your mother are so lucky, to have someone like—"

"That won't be necessary."

I cut her off.

"It's a family gathering. It isn't right for outsiders to come."

She froze. "But... but I'm not an outsider!"

"Back when I couldn't even afford to eat, you sponsored me for four years. I've thought of you as family for the longest time—"

"That's your business."

I said coldly:

"I sponsored you because I have a kind heart. It has nothing to do with you."

Harper's mouth fell open.

She'd never imagined that I, who had always been so patient and caring toward her, could say such a thing.

The office door swung open.

It was my assistant, Peter Norris, with the reporter Job Chavez behind him.

Peter looked all eager to help. "Ms. Harrington, I brought Reporter Chavez up."

Job had his livestream running. "Let's put a positive spin on the company, promote your charitable work sponsoring underprivileged students!"

"A birthday gift Ms. Lawrence embroidered by hand, what perfect material."

The camera swung to Harper, and the tears came instantly.

She choked out:

"I don't deserve to go. She sponsored me for four years, but she won't even let me attend the birthday party. I suppose I'm just not good enough..."

The comments on Job's livestream scrolled by in a frenzy:

"Total setup, this."

"A gift the girl stitched by hand, thread by thread. That's cold."

"See that? That's the face of the rich. Charity on the surface, cold-blooded arrogance underneath."

In my last life, I'd wanted to protect Harper's pride, to let her feel the warmth of a family.

But in this life, there was no way I'd invite the wolf inside again.

"I already said—"

I cut him off and turned to face the camera:

"Family privacy isn't material for your promotion."

"I respect all of you. I'd ask you to respect our ordinary family life as well."

Some of the comments started to shift:

"Rich people are allowed their own freedom too, aren't they? I wouldn't want strangers in my family's business either."

"The girl's the one acting like she's not an outsider."

Tears still clung to Harper's lashes, but something hard flickered in her eyes, the look of someone who wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted.

I'd seen that look before.

In my last life, when she knelt in front of the cameras demanding a "name and place," her eyes were exactly like that.

"Mary, I really only wanted to feel what a family is like."

She bit her lip. "Do you... think I'm not good enough to set foot in your home?"

Peter, standing in the doorway, darkened. "Ms. Harrington, is this wise?"

"This could hurt the company's image."

"People will say we're cold and heartless. That doesn't fit the open, welcoming brand the company stands for."

"I really don't understand. Why would you let a golden opportunity like this slip away?"

"Peter, remember your place."

"Whether it's wise or not isn't yours to decide."

Peter's face went stiff on the spot.

Job glanced between us. "So the livestream..."

I smiled.

"The livestream was agreed on. But if you want a story to run, you can interview Harper personally."

"Ask her how much I gave her over these four years, and what state she was in when I gave her a new life."

Back then, Harper was a left-behind child. After her grandparents died she couldn't find her parents, and she went hungry as often as not.

I saw the report, saw how gaunt and sallow she was, reached out to her, sponsored her, found her a school in the city.

I never imagined it would come back on me like the farmer and the snake.

I raised my hand and had security throw them out.

When I died in my last life, my mother was in the psychiatric hospital and the grass on my father's grave had grown back three seasons over.

Now I'm twenty-three.

Everything can still be redone.