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100. Begging Like A Rat

last update Huling Na-update: 2025-04-16 21:58:06

The auditorium buzzed with conversation—parents chatting, students gathered in tight clusters, laughter and excited chatter filling the air.

Fresh from the shower, dressed in crisp new clothes, I strode back in with my head held high.

My plan was simple:

Make my presence known.

Smile politely.

Let everyone see that I wasn't fazed by what had happened.

Not listen to the bullshit.

Jared fell in step beside me almost instantly. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Before I could respond, Jason whipped out a cologne bottle and sprayed me without warning.

"Do you need anything? I have cologne," he said, as if he hadn't just drenched me in it.

I waved away the strong scent and shot him an irritated look. "I'm fine."

Jared's voice dropped slightly. "I heard it was Amy. That's Sara Larson's friend. Do you want us to embarrass her back?"

That was nice.

But I'd rather do it myself.

I exhaled slowly. "No."

Jared scoffed. "Are you serious?" He shook his head. "We
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  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   101. Chicken

    "You're seriously going to cook?" Damien asked, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, one eyebrow arched in doubt. I shot him a look. "Yeah, that's part of hosting." In my last life, cooking for others had been a thankless task. People just expected me to do it, and if there was praise to be handed out, it usually went to Emily. She was the one people saw, the one they assumed did the work. No one ever realized I was the one behind most of the meals. But this time, it was different. [New Mission: Impress Your Guests Reward: Good Karma Penalty: Burnt Meal] Well, this should be easy. "Anything I can help with?" Damien offered. "The chicken," I said, nodding toward the fridge. "Shouldn't it be turkey?" he asked, frowning. I scoffed. "I hate turkey. It's too dry. Just help with the chicken." The sound of footsteps thundering into the kitchen made me sigh. "Ooh! This I gotta see!" Jason exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement. Jared followed right behind

    Huling Na-update : 2025-04-17
  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   102. Dinner Conversation

    *************************** "Please! Somehow, can't you try something? I really can pay you back!" Orla begged, her voice frantic as she scratched at her arms. The dealer shook his head, his patience wearing thin. "You already owe two months' worth of credit," he said firmly. "I can't give you any more. Let's stop and go—" "Anything!" Orla interrupted, her voice desperate, cracking. "Even if I'm like this now, I'm still so good at it! I can make you feel really good!" The dealer recoiled, shoving her away as she clung to him with shaky hands. ***************************** Pathetic. That was my last fly on the wall—and good riddance. I caught myself against the wall, steadying my breathing as I processed what I had just seen. As sick as I felt right now, I was satisfied. Just as I had expected, Orla had tried the drugs herself and became an addict. The image of her—stick-thin, shaking, her sunken eyes darting wildly in desperation—lingered in my mind. I couldn't forget how he

    Huling Na-update : 2025-04-17
  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   103. The Plan

    Jared was lounging in my office chair, still in his pajamas, while Damien looked ready to blow a fuse as soon as he saw him there, comfortably sitting. The implications were clear. "What's he doing here?" Damien asked, gesturing toward Jared with visible irritation. "Did he sleep here last night?" "No, he came like that," I replied, already used to Jared's antics. He most likely came here deliberately dressed like that because he knew I called Damien and Jason over, and he wanted them to get the wrong idea. No wonder he showed up so early, eager to get to work. Well, I was stupid enough to believe it was work ethic and not pettiness. "Yeah, and Jack's not petty enough to not want to see me like some people are," Jared said, sticking out his tongue like a child at Damien. "Besides, I'm the best gambler he knows. He said it himself." "You did?" Damien looked genuinely hurt, his pout bordering on comical. "To be fair, it's more likely Jared knows more about gambling than you ever w

    Huling Na-update : 2025-04-18
  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   104. Fudging The Odds

    {TW: kidnapped} Two weeks had passed since I first saw the opportunity to make an impact on Beck10. The latest frenzy? A high-profile case that had the whole nation in a chokehold. Ivan Rey, a dumbass kid I vaguely remembered from my last life, had been accused of sexual assault and murder—and just when it seemed like justice would catch up to him, he cut off his ankle monitor and ran. Now, the media was in a frenzy. Everyone had an opinion, every news cycle was filled with breathless speculation, and under all that pressure, Damien's dad had made a public promise: They would catch Ivan within five days. The betting pools reflected the hysteria. Most people hedged their money on Ivan being caught right at the five-day mark, while a few outliers gambled on him getting snagged even earlier. I, however, had placed my bet on something else entirely. That Ivan Rey would not be caught. And I wasn't just hoping for a miracle—I was ensuring it. I leaned over Jason's shoulder as he scr

    Huling Na-update : 2025-04-18
  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   105. Ivan’s Stay

    The guest house in my parents' yard stood quiet and still, its once-pristine exterior now dulled from years of neglect. The structure was charming yet unassuming, a modest white-bricked cottage with a wraparound porch, half-covered in leaves that had gathered over time. The windows, though elegant, were coated in a thin layer of dust, and the porch light flickered intermittently, as if struggling to stay alive. It was clear the place hadn't been used in a while. The only real sound in the night was the muffled curses from the hot trunk of the car. Jason and I hauled Ivan out, his lean frame squirming violently in our grip. "You motherfuckers!" he screamed, thrashing as much as the handcuffs would allow. Jason didn't even flinch. I smirked. "Isn't it you that fucked up first?" Ivan kicked out, struggling, but we dragged him up the creaky wooden porch and into the dimly lit house, the door slamming shut behind us. Jason flicked on the lights, revealing a simple but elegant inter

    Huling Na-update : 2025-04-19
  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   106. The Last Game

    {TW: Fight} For the past two weeks, we had been attending amateur sports matches, and everything had gone exactly as I planned. The underdog teams were winning—thanks to the extra funding I had helped secure for harsher trainers and last-minute substitutions. Basketball was already over, and the second match had ended in a reverse victory. Now, with only one game left, I was certain Emmett had caught on by now. Desperation would make him reckless. He would most likely send someone to stop my winning streak. Which is why I had come more than prepared. This was all part of the plan—to make him notice me, to make him move first. And I took full advantage of the fact that there was no upper limit on bets. If I kept going unchecked, Beck10 would have no commission left. Soon, they'd have no choice but to inquire about the dividends themselves. The most logical move would be to scam me now, but they hadn't. Which meant they still had someone in their corner, raising the stakes a

    Huling Na-update : 2025-04-19
  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   107. Cheer Squad

    "Let's get fired up!" Clap-clap-clap-clap. "We are fired up!" Clap-clap-clap-clap. As the football players took the field, the cheerleaders worked to get the crowd energized, their hands clapping in perfect rhythm. "Really fired up!" Clap-clap-clap-clap. The crowd erupted into cheers, and I scanned the field, telling myself I wasn't looking for Damien and Jason—I was just looking. But when I spotted them sitting with a few other players, my stomach did a little flip. "Let's go, Tigers!" Beatrix yelled through her bullhorn. Off to the side, Jared stood in his full mascot outfit—a giant fuzzy orange-and-black-striped jumpsuit topped with an oversized tiger head. When the cheerleaders hit their final pose, he rushed in, slid to a stop on one knee, and threw out his arms like he'd just pulled off the greatest trick in the world. Idiot. The crowd clapped listlessly. A few half-hearted whistles floated through the air. The coach wasted no time, yelling for the cheerleaders to

    Huling Na-update : 2025-04-21
  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   108. Cornered Rat

    {TW: violence} Emmett's car screeched to a halt in front of the old warehouse, headlights cutting through the dimly lit lot. I stood waiting, arms crossed, as he slammed the door shut and stormed toward me. His glare was the hardest I'd ever seen from anyone—he sure was pissed. "Jack Spencer, you cocky asshole!" he roared. "How dare you play around with me?! Do you even know what you've done?! You motherfucker!" I smirked, unfazed. "What did I do? I followed the rules," I said casually. "You took the money and ran before the results came out. Did I scare you that much?" "You little rat!" "Only one of us is acting like a little rat right now," I taunted. "I can actually help you out if you ask nicely." "You bitch!" he spat, fists clenching at his sides. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, but his rage was barely held back. "Did you think it would be worth a try to fight here or something?!" Then, something changed. His glare wavered, replaced by something almost de

    Huling Na-update : 2025-04-21

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  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   114. The Hunt Begins

    A week had passed, and no one had found Declan's body. Things were moving fast, and without speaking to my dad first, I took the initiative and bought everything related to McIntyre Corporations. It was a massive undertaking. We had to fire the entire board and replace them with our own people. The financial webs were deep, tracing money from offshore accounts, and the intel I'd gathered? It was a goldmine of blackmail material, exposing nearly every business owner, politician, and high-ranking official in the city. My dad didn't hesitate for a second. He immediately used this treasure trove to his advantage. He worked quickly, killing the news of Declan Sr.'s disappearance so that no one outside our circle would know what happened. My mom, of course, was confused. The official story was that Declan had fled to avoid the scandal, but I later realized something: My dad hadn't lied to her—he just didn't want to ruin her newfound peace. She had taken a liking to Jason, and Dad didn't wa

  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   113. Caught

    I couldn't get the system's words out of my head. "You'll soon be too preoccupied to think about it." What the hell did that mean? What could possibly take my mind off the weight of what I'd done in my past life—of Gianna, of Jason, of everything unraveling? [Mission Accomplished! You will receive secret intel!] I froze. That... that would do it. What the actual fuck was going on? I hadn't even made a move toward atonement yet, and the mission was already marked as complete? How? Why? My phone buzzed, Jason's name lighting up the screen. It was nearly 2 a.m. A part of me didn't want to answer—I was exhausted from the party and from... well, everything. But I picked up. "Hello—" "Jack?" Jason's voice was breathless, panicked, and definitely crying. "I—I need you... to come over! I need you to come over now!" He was gasping like he couldn't breathe. "What's up? Is it your dad?" "No! No! No, no—" "Tell me what happened!" I snapped, heart racing. "No! I—I can't actually say—"

  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   112. Guilty Conscience

    {TW: Suicide attempt} The memory came back like a bullet to the skull—sudden, searing, and impossible to ignore. I was seventeen. A parking garage bathed in that awful yellow-white light, nearly abandoned except for the low hum of flickering fluorescent tubes above me. The scent of oil and cold concrete filled the air. My footsteps were quiet, deliberate, echoing through the still space as I closed in on her. Gianna Lionetti. A cloth gripped tightly in my hand, soaked in chloroform. She didn't even have time to scream. I grabbed her from behind, pressing the cloth to her mouth and nose with a vice grip. She fought hard. Nails like razors dug into my wrist, her limbs thrashing with the kind of panic only people on the edge of death can summon. It took a full minute and a half—ninety long seconds of struggle—before her body finally sagged, unconscious in my arms. I eased her down like a sleepwalker, like she was fragile glass. Then, almost robotically, I opened the passenger door,

  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   111. Surprise Party

    I sat stiffly on the edge of the velvet couch, hands clenched loosely in my lap as camera flashes exploded from every angle. The drawing room was filled to the brim with reporters—some with cameras, some already holding up mics with eager hands, all of them watching me like a hawk about to strike. This was actually kind of terrifying. The last time I'd been in front of this many cameras was... well, it wasn't exactly a shining moment. I was being perp-walked in my last life, paraded in handcuffs while people shouted for my head. The bright lights, the judgmental stares—it all felt a little too familiar. A woman in the front row leaned forward, mic close. "How did you manage to get such incredible scores?" I blinked at her. "Studying like a normal person. It's not like there was much else to do besides that and work." Click. Click. Flash. "Your first appearance on TV left people with a bad impression of you. What do you think about that?" another reporter asked. I rolled my eyes

  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   110. Spotlight

    Ok, wow. I don't even know when I lost consciousness. All I know is that I've never felt anything like that in my life. It was overwhelming—in the best, most mind-blowing way. The kind of thing that leaves your body aching, your brain blank, and your soul just a little bit altered. Eight-plus rounds. All night. Lust without restraint. I hadn't known a first-timer could go all out like that, but apparently Damien had been holding back a lot for me. I remembered everything. I'm not a virgin anymore either. Every time he said my name in the heat of it, it sounded so damn good—like music tuned specifically to my ears. He loved biting and leaving marks, and now there was an obscene amount of them all over me. My body still felt wrecked. My mind? Still trying to catch up. The first light of dawn slipped through the curtains, soft and golden, casting a gentle hue across the rumpled sheets. I turned over—and there he was. Damien's sculpted torso rose and fell with

  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   109. A Few Drinks

    "Jack!" Damien's voice rang out, sharp with alarm. Before I could react, Emmett's hands were around my throat, tightening like a vice. My air was cut off instantly, my vision tunneling. He was trying to choke me out. Not happening. I gritted my teeth and kicked his shin with all the force I could muster. A pained grunt escaped him as his leg buckled, his grip loosening just enough for me to break free. Seizing the opportunity, I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward. Then I closed my eyes and bit down on his neck. Hard. Pain shot through my jaw as my teeth sank into flesh. Warm, metallic-tasting blood rushed into my mouth, the coppery tang coating my tongue. Emmett screamed—a raw, agonized sound—as he shoved me off him, stumbling to the ground, his hands clamping over the wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Spitting out the blood, I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and spotted a large rock nearby. Perfect. I picked it up, weighing it in my hands

  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   108. Cornered Rat

    {TW: violence} Emmett's car screeched to a halt in front of the old warehouse, headlights cutting through the dimly lit lot. I stood waiting, arms crossed, as he slammed the door shut and stormed toward me. His glare was the hardest I'd ever seen from anyone—he sure was pissed. "Jack Spencer, you cocky asshole!" he roared. "How dare you play around with me?! Do you even know what you've done?! You motherfucker!" I smirked, unfazed. "What did I do? I followed the rules," I said casually. "You took the money and ran before the results came out. Did I scare you that much?" "You little rat!" "Only one of us is acting like a little rat right now," I taunted. "I can actually help you out if you ask nicely." "You bitch!" he spat, fists clenching at his sides. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, but his rage was barely held back. "Did you think it would be worth a try to fight here or something?!" Then, something changed. His glare wavered, replaced by something almost de

  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   107. Cheer Squad

    "Let's get fired up!" Clap-clap-clap-clap. "We are fired up!" Clap-clap-clap-clap. As the football players took the field, the cheerleaders worked to get the crowd energized, their hands clapping in perfect rhythm. "Really fired up!" Clap-clap-clap-clap. The crowd erupted into cheers, and I scanned the field, telling myself I wasn't looking for Damien and Jason—I was just looking. But when I spotted them sitting with a few other players, my stomach did a little flip. "Let's go, Tigers!" Beatrix yelled through her bullhorn. Off to the side, Jared stood in his full mascot outfit—a giant fuzzy orange-and-black-striped jumpsuit topped with an oversized tiger head. When the cheerleaders hit their final pose, he rushed in, slid to a stop on one knee, and threw out his arms like he'd just pulled off the greatest trick in the world. Idiot. The crowd clapped listlessly. A few half-hearted whistles floated through the air. The coach wasted no time, yelling for the cheerleaders to

  • Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me   106. The Last Game

    {TW: Fight} For the past two weeks, we had been attending amateur sports matches, and everything had gone exactly as I planned. The underdog teams were winning—thanks to the extra funding I had helped secure for harsher trainers and last-minute substitutions. Basketball was already over, and the second match had ended in a reverse victory. Now, with only one game left, I was certain Emmett had caught on by now. Desperation would make him reckless. He would most likely send someone to stop my winning streak. Which is why I had come more than prepared. This was all part of the plan—to make him notice me, to make him move first. And I took full advantage of the fact that there was no upper limit on bets. If I kept going unchecked, Beck10 would have no commission left. Soon, they'd have no choice but to inquire about the dividends themselves. The most logical move would be to scam me now, but they hadn't. Which meant they still had someone in their corner, raising the stakes a

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