Reborn to Ruin the Woman Who Destroyed My Family

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When word got out that my dad's grill restaurant was hiring summer help, my best friend insisted on squeezing her daughter in so the girl could "learn something about real life."

In my last life, for the sake of all those years between us, I said yes.

Three days into the job, her daughter came bolting out of the back kitchen with her clothes half undone, screaming that my dad had assaulted her.

A mob of onlookers smashed the grill restaurant to pieces, and my dad became the dirty old pervert everyone wanted to see punished.

He'd been honest and decent his whole life. He couldn't bear filth like that thrown on his name.

That same night, a brain hemorrhage took him.

And the daughter who killed him rode the whole thing to fame, spun into the story of a brave young woman, and pulled in a million followers.

The day we buried my father, she drove past our house in a brand-new sports car and said, smug and light:

"I really owe it all to your uncle. I'd never have gotten rich this fast without him."

Reborn, I'm back on the very day my best friend came knocking.

She held my hand, all smiles and coaxing.

"Come on, let the girl help out at the shop, toughen her up a little. You don't even have to pay her!"

I threw her hand off and said, cold:

"Sorry. My dad's grill restaurant. Sold it just today."

……

"Sold it?"

Mercedes Pruitt's voice shot up, suspicion all over her face.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"Business here is booming. You can't even keep up with the crowds every day. How could you possibly sell it?"

My tone stayed flat, without a trace of anything underneath.

"It's really being sold."

"The paperwork just isn't finished yet, so we're not telling anyone for now."

It was the line I'd worked out in advance.

If the place was being sold, of course we wouldn't be hiring. That was only sensible.

But Mercedes didn't back off. If anything, she switched to pleading.

"My dearest friend, can't you do me this one little favor?"

"Madge won't cost you a cent in wages, she'll just work for free."

"Better she spends her days in your shop than running around out there wasting her time."

To anyone watching, she looked like nothing but a gentle mother worried sick over her daughter.

Last life, she'd done exactly this.

Said the girl had been spoiled soft growing up, that she wanted her to toughen up at the shop.

Kept insisting we didn't have to pay her a thing, that all she wanted was for the girl to get a taste of real life.

Our two families had been neighbors for over a decade.

Mercedes and I had grown up together, best friends. That kind of history was right there between us.

My heart went soft. I didn't think twice, and I said yes.

I never imagined that one moment of softness would bury my entire family.

On Madge's third day at the shop,

she suddenly came tearing out of the back kitchen with her clothes in disarray.

She was crying so hard her whole body shook, sobbing out her story to the passersby.

"Uncle Myron Finch assaulted me! He waited until no one was around and put his hands on me!"

The words were barely out before the front of the shop was packed shoulder to shoulder.

No one wanted to hear my dad's clumsy explanation.

Everyone would rather believe that a girl fresh out of school wouldn't lie.

The crowd worked itself into a frenzy.

Some cursed and swore they'd rid the world of him, some started flipping tables.

In barely more than ten minutes, the grill restaurant was smashed to rubble.

"Old pervert!"

"Looks so decent, and this filthy underneath!"

"Lower than an animal, preying on a kid!"

The curses came from every direction, an endless downpour.

They crushed my whole family until we couldn't breathe.

My dad was fifty years old.

He'd never cut a single corner in his life, never done one thing he had to feel guilty about.

That night, the brain hemorrhage hit.

He was gone without a single word left behind.

And Madge, who killed him,

felt not the slightest guilt. She rode the whole thing to fame instead.

She built herself up as the victimized girl and won sympathy across the whole internet.

In half a month, her following jumped by a million.

Brand deals, live streams, money pouring in.

And my dad became the creepy old pervert the whole internet wanted to see punished.

Even in death, the stain never washed off him.

The day we buried my father, a red sports car pulled up at our door.

Madge's makeup was flawless, her tone breezy.

"I really owe it all to your dad. I'd never have gotten rich this fast without him."

So the free labor had been the lie. What she'd really wanted was a stepping stone to sacrifice.

But this life, I won't give her the slightest chance.