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127. The Confrontation

ผู้เขียน: Make Ink
last update วันที่เผยแพร่: 2026-08-09 22:39:38

Lucas had found out where Jett Mercer’s executive office was located through nothing more complicated than a basic business directory search on his phone.

He had sat in his parked car outside his apartment for twenty minutes, staring at the address on his screen, convincing himself with every passing second that this was a entirely reasonable, necessary thing to do. It wasn't stalking. It wasn't making a scene. It was simply a man going to look another man in the eye to talk about something—som
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  • Reborn Rich: My Fiancé and Step-Sister Killed Me Once.   142. Tge Beginning of the End

    ​​Jessica's underground contact insisted on meeting somewhere public, neutral, and utterly forgettable—a location completely detached from their usual luxury haunts that could never be traced back to any of them.​They ended up sitting in a vinyl booth at The Rusty Anchor, a dimly lit 24-hour diner two towns over. It was a grease-stained roadside dive that none of them had ever set foot in before, and one they would never have a single reason to return to.​The man Jessica introduced simply as Marek looked nothing like the shadowy, imposing enforcer Rita had envisioned. He was an older, shockingly unremarkable man in an faded jacket—the exact kind of plain, invisible face that disappeared into a crowd the second you looked away from it.​"Jessica tells me you two have a rather delicate financial situation," Marek said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp once they were settled into the booth. Coffee arrived, thick and dark, sitting entirely untouched in front of each of them.​"We do," Ri

  • Reborn Rich: My Fiancé and Step-Sister Killed Me Once.   141. The Unspeakable Plan

    ​​Jessica had been dropping by the house with alarming frequency ever since the restraining order hit, always armed with a convenient excuse—a bag of gourmet groceries she’d accidentally overbought, an imported bottle of wine, or a movie she insisted they all needed to watch to take the edge off.​She kept framing it as simply checking in on her little brother, but Rita knew better. Beneath Jessica’s sweet, sisterly concern was a predator circling a wounded animal. Jessica wasn't just checking in; she was positioning herself as close as humanly possible to whatever desperate, explosive move came next.​On Thursday evening, Jessica let herself in with the spare house key Lucas had given her months ago, carrying two heavy brown paper bags of Thai takeout.​"You two look like absolute death," Jessica announced, setting the bags down on the quartz island with a heavy thud. She kicked off her heels and looked between them. "When is the last time either of you consumed an actual, solid mea

  • Reborn Rich: My Fiancé and Step-Sister Killed Me Once.   140. Desperation Escalates

    ​"You're selling the insurance policy on the ring," Lucas said, leaning over the back of her chair as he watched her fill out the digital appraisal form on her tablet. "Not the actual ring itself?""Not selling it outright," Rita said, her jaw tight as her fingernails tapped against the glass screen. "Pawning it. If we come up with the money in time, I can buy it back before anyone in our social circle even notices my finger is empty."She didn't look up at him. She couldn't bear to look at his sunken eyes, his unwashed hoodie, or the helpless posture he'd adopted ever since Arden had sent her packing empty-handed."That ring cost more than my car, Rita," he muttered softly."And right now it's sitting in a box doing absolutely nothing to stop the bank from putting a foreclosure notice on our front door!" Rita swung around in her chair, her eyes flashing with a sharp, dangerous heat. "Do you have a better idea, Lucas? A sudden stroke of financial genius, perhaps? Please, illuminate m

  • Reborn Rich: My Fiancé and Step-Sister Killed Me Once.   139. Watch Her Squarm

    ARDEN​Rita’s text landed on my phone at exactly 8:14 on a Tuesday evening, right as I was pouring myself a glass of red wine.​Could we meet up sometime this week? Just the two of us. It's really important, Arden. Please.​I set the wine bottle down, picked up my phone, and read the message three times. A dark, electric thrill flared deep in my chest—sharp, ugly, and undeniably delicious.​There it is, I thought, a slow smile pulling at the corners of my lips. The crack in the golden altar.​I didn't reply immediately. I let her sweat for two full hours before typing back a brief, breezy confirmation for Thursday afternoon. I deliberately picked The Velvet Glass—a sleek, absurdly overpriced boutique café located less than three blocks from the sprawling, multi-million-dollar estate Rita and Lucas had just bought in cash. I wanted her to walk past every stone wall and manicured hedge of her brand-new palace on her way to beg me for mercy.​Thursday arrived, overcast and brisk. I sat a

  • Reborn Rich: My Fiancé and Step-Sister Killed Me Once.   138. The Idea Forms

    ​Lucas was sitting on a high stool at the quartz island, holding his cell phone to his ear with a white-knuckled grip, listening to the flat, tinny hold music of their mortgage lender for the third time that morning.​He had his laptop open in front of him, displaying three different loan rejection emails from private wealth management firms. Sweat prickled cold along the back of his neck as he waited for a representative to pick up, his mind frantically calculating how many days they had left before the bank flagged their primary mortgage payment as delinquent.​Before the automated voice could transfer him to an Underwriting agent, Rita’s hand darted into his field of vision. She snatched the phone right out of his hand, tapped the red button, and slammed the device face-down onto the quartz counter.​"They're not going to approve a second mortgage or a home equity line, Lucas," Rita said, her voice strained and tight. "We bought the house less than three months ago, in cash, with z

  • Reborn Rich: My Fiancé and Step-Sister Killed Me Once.   137. The Big Fight

    ​RITA​Rita stood at the sleek quartz kitchen island in her tailored loungewear, trying to authorize the catering company's final post-wedding invoice on her phone, when the digital transaction declined for the second consecutive time.​She frowned at the glowing screen, assuming it was a temporary glitch in the venue’s payment portal. She re-entered her card details with practiced, confident fingers, tapped Submit, and watched the screen flash a bright, humiliating red again: Transaction Declined: Insufficient Funds.​A sudden, unpleasant knot pulled tight in the center of her stomach. She exited the payment portal and opened her banking application directly, bypassing the third-party app to view the primary balance.​The number listed across the top line didn't make any sense.​Rita stared at it for a long, frozen moment, her eyes darting across the digits. She was certain she was misreading a decimal point somewhere, or that her bank had temporarily locked the account due to flagg

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