Reborn From Sweet to Sinister

The Denise Walsh in front of me still carried that same aloof and proud demeanor I remembered. Her clothes, though faded from too many washes, were immaculately kept. With a stubborn expression, she stood tall, like a lone winter rose, turning her face away.

The facilitator, Jasmine Jones, noticing the tension, nervously wiped her brow and subtly tugged at Denise’s sleeve.

Only then did she turn her head slowly, her voice steady and serious as she said, "Even though you've decided to sponsor me, I’m not obligated to bow and scrape before you, am I?"

Her righteousness was so over-the-top that I couldn’t help but laugh.

Jasmine had merely asked her to bow to show some gratitude.

Did she really think of that as humiliation? Then what about everything I went through in my previous life?

I stepped closer, lifting her chin slightly as I murmured, "If you're so full of pride, then why accept my help at all?"

Her eyes widened, and her face flushed red.

Before she could respond, a familiar voice interrupted.

"Suzy, don't say things in anger!"

I looked up to see Vincent Ford hurrying over, and a wave of fury and hatred surged in me.

Vincent, still just a student dependent on my generosity, had always been good at reading my moods.

Noticing my displeasure, he immediately put on a flattering smile, pulling me into his arms.

"Suzy, don't get upset. You know how Denise is. Besides, didn't we agree on this beforehand?"

Feeling disgusted, I shoved him away, slapping him hard across the face. His head jerked to the side, shock covering his expression.

For a brief moment, his eyes darkened, but he quickly masked it, saying, "Suzy, are you jealous of Denise again? Don't misunderstand. Denise is just a friend."

In the past, it only took a few half-hearted explanations like this for me to believe him and be willing to do anything for him. But then again, I used to be a typical love-struck, naive fool.

But now, did he really think I was still that easy to fool?

I raised an eyebrow and grabbed Denise's wrist. A luxurious, high-end bracelet hung around her slender arm—something far beyond what Denise could ever afford.

Yanking her toward Vincent, I said, "Vincent, I remember when we were at the mall last time, I had my eye on this exact bracelet. You promised you'd buy it for me once you got your prize money. So why is it on her wrist now? Oh, so this is how you treat a friend?”

Vincent froze, stammering, "It's just that… well, Denise's birthday is coming up, and she really liked the bracelet..."

In my past life, when I found out Vincent was constantly helping Denise, he had used the same excuse. The phrasing never even changed—it was always "Denise likes this," "Denise wants that," "Denise is struggling..."

But when it came to giving me gifts, it was either worthless junk or useless handmade trinkets with the excuse, "It's the thought that counts."

I snapped back to the present, smiling at the two of them—this pair of shameless cheats.

Without a second thought, I ripped the bracelet off Denise's wrist and tossed it into the trash bin beside the dining table.

"Vincent, using my money to pamper another woman, you've certainly been playing your cards well. Too bad for you, I'd rather throw that money in the trash than let either of you have it."

Denise's face finally changed as she cried out, scrambling to dig through the trash, "That’s something Vincent bought for me with his prize money! What right do you have to throw it away?"

I couldn’t help but laugh. "Do you really think this loser could ever win any prize money? Denise, that money was stolen from me, one way or another."

Vincent’s expression darkened as he heard my words.

Without hesitation, I kicked over the trash bin and casually sat down in a nearby chair. Denise stood up in silence, no longer saying a word.

Jasmine, sensing the tension, quickly called a waiter to clean up the mess.

I nudged Jasmine, smirking. "Since she’s so full of pride, why should I keep sponsoring her? Take her off the list."

Jasmine nervously held out the list to me. "Miss Young, would you like to choose someone else for the sponsorship?"

With a dismissive wave, I knocked the list aside and pointed at the waiter cleaning up. "How about him?"

Liam Cooper was stunned, clearly not expecting me to make such a sudden decision.

Back in university, we had no connection whatsoever.

But who would have thought that the struggling young man working odd jobs now would become a renowned figure in the tech industry ten years later?

Sponsoring Liam was clearly more worthwhile than throwing money at someone as ungrateful as Denise.

Denise, shocked that I had actually followed through, blurted out, "But you promised before! How can you just go back on your word like that?"

I admired my manicured nails, not even bothering to look at her. "Because this is the Young family’s money. Even if I decide to toss it on the street, it’s none of your business. What can I say? I’m just that rich."