All Chapters of Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

"What the hell is wrong with everyone today?" I muttered to Jared, leaning closer so only he could hear. He had picked me up from the hotel with Damien and taken me straight to school, where I was immediately met with a weird, artificial energy. People were acting like nothing had ever happened. Like they hadn't spent months ignoring or whispering about me. Like they hadn't all hated me at the beginning of the year. "They're all acting like nothing ever fucking happened." "You're popular now," Jared said simply. I scoffed. I had never been popular before, but I had heard from many what that life was like—fake, miserable, suffocating. I didn't want it. Not now. Not ever. The peaked in high school phase wasn't really my thing. "Why?" I demanded. "What the fuck did I do to get popular?" Jared turned to me with a knowing smirk. "Your birthday party solidified that you're the one people need to get close to and make connections with. So now everyone is going to switch up on you li

{TW: gang violence} The alley behind the school was alive with the low growl of engines, the sharp clank of metal pipes against palms, and the expectant tension of men who thought numbers made them invincible. A dozen of them stood in a semi-circle, some leaning against their motorcycles while others gripped wooden bats like they were about to beat down a rat trapped in a corner. The only problem was—I wasn't the rat. One of the men, thick-browed and stiff-jawed, tightened his grip on his bat. His eyes locked onto mine as if I were some sort of prey, but I just smirked, letting my amusement show. "Man~ You little cockroaches... There sure are a lot of you." Scowls. Glares. Tension thick enough to choke on. Good. Let them get pissed. That meant they weren't thinking. Then, one particularly disheveled guy sitting on his bike lost it. "JACK SPENCER! YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!" His face was red with fury, veins pulsing at his temples. I barely reacted, only tilting my head slightly. If anyt

The ride home was tense. Mom sat beside me in the car, her arms crossed, her jaw clenched. The weight of her silence pressed against me as we left Erwin in a secure private hospital room with the best doctors. Her fingers tapped restlessly against her arm, a clear sign that her mind was racing, already planning her next moves. The city passed by outside, the familiar streets looking gloomier than usual. I stared out the window, letting the tension settle, knowing full well this was the perfect storm. Finally, Mom spoke, her voice low and controlled. "I'm sorry about Erwin, honey. This breach will be dealt with swiftly. I won't tolerate this kind of incompetence and betrayal in our household." I could feel the fury radiating from her, and internally, I was satisfied. This was the perfect opportunity to manipulate her into investigating exactly what I wanted—without her going straight to Dad. If I could direct her suspicions, I could make sure the investigation landed exactly where i

Erwin had finally returned home after three days in the hospital, his head mostly healed. After everything that had happened, I had told him to take time off, to rest—but, predictably, he refused. It didn't matter what chaos was unfolding; he never left my side for long. He looked around, his sharp eyes catching the unease that still lingered in the air. I filled him in on everything: my mother's actions, why I had been fighting, Gisselle's betrayal, and the guards' supposed excuse of their families being threatened. As soon as I mentioned that last part, Erwin scoffed. "Nobody with family is hired as security here," he confirmed. "They were lying to you." "Of course, I had already suspected that. It didn't change my plans, though. Did you do as I said, Erwin?" I said. "I finished loading the money and supplies into the car," he reported in his usual calm tone. Then, after a brief pause, he asked, "Are you planning on going somewhere, Young Master?" A slow smirk formed on my lip

For two more days, there had been no drama, no plotting, and not a single peep from Debbie. The quiet should have been comforting, but instead, it only heightened my anxiety. Debbie wasn't the type to simply give up, not after everything that had happened. She was just biding her time—I knew it. Sitting in my room, I stared out the window at the snow-blanketed garden. The winter landscape stretched out in front of me, serene and untouched. Everything was peaceful, except for one thing. Debbie. There she was, seated outside, having a tea party in full view of my window. I narrowed my eyes. How could she be so calm? She had spent the last week locked in her room, supposedly too devastated to function, and now she was having a pleasant afternoon like nothing had happened? No. This wasn't normal. She was finally moving, making her next play, and the waiting was getting to me. I turned away from the window, forcing myself to focus on my schoolwork, but my mind kept drifting. What the f