All Chapters of Reborn Rich: My Fiancé and Step-Sister Killed Me Once.: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

LUCAS​Rita’s crypto token had doubled in value yet again by the time she finally sold off her holdings, transferring the entire sum straight into private equity shares for an early-stage tech startup her anonymous contact had flagged months ago.​Lucas had asked about buying into the deal himself once—just a modest amount from his own savings to catch a piece of the momentum—and Rita had shut him down instantly. She told him the company had already closed its investment window to new buyers. Only the early investors who were already inside the loop, like her, were permitted to keep adding to their existing position.​So he was forced to watch from the outside.​Every evening, the number in her portfolio app kept climbing, flashing green, and there wasn't a single thing Lucas could personally do about it except sit beside her and watch her grow richer by the day while his own financial standing remained completely stagnant.​"It went up another eight percent this week," Rita said one

ARDEN​"Pack a bag," Jett said over the phone late Friday night. His voice was low, smooth, and laced with that quiet, late-night gravel that always sent a subtle shiver down my spine.​I leaned back against my pillows, twisting a strand of hair around my finger. "Something light? Or am I dressing for corporate survival?"​"Something light," he murmured. "We're not staying in the city tomorrow."​"Where are we going, Jett?"​"You'll see."​He picked me up at precisely seven the next morning. I stepped out of my apartment building in a simple summer dress and a light cardigan, carrying a small weekender bag. But instead of turning toward the highway or taking the familiar coastal road out of town, his black town car took the expressway straight toward a private airfield on the northern edge of the city.​The car rolled smoothly onto the tarmac, coming to a stop beside a sleek, white mid-sized private jet. A flight crew of two was already waiting near the base of the stairs, crisp in th

ARDEN​The lawyer called on a Tuesday morning at half past nine, his voice formal, dry, and entirely devoid of drama.​"The policy's ready to be claimed, Ms. Steele. All the verification checks have cleared with the underwriter. Whenever you can come in, we can finalize the paperwork."​I gripped my coffee mug a little tighter, looking across the kitchen island at Jett, who was reading through a sheaf of financial documents while sipping his tea.​"This afternoon works," I told the lawyer. "I can be at your office by two."​"Perfect. I'll have the transfer authorization documents set out."​I hung up and set my phone on the granite counter. Jett looked up instantly, his dark eyes taking in my expression before I even had a chance to speak.​"Was that the estate attorney?" he asked gently.​"Yes. The policy payouts are ready to be executed," I said, letting out a small breath. "I'm going over to sign the final releases this afternoon."​Jett set his pen down without hesitation. "I'm co

​Sophia spent the entire afternoon before the event buried up to her knees in fabric swatches on her studio floor, furiously arguing on the phone with an overseas supplier who had tried to substitute a key silk order for something significantly cheaper without telling her.​"I didn't approve that change," she said sharply, her phone wedged firmly between her shoulder and ear while she aggressively pinned a crimson silk sample to a dress mannequin. "Send me the original invoice again. Right now."​"It's a minor substitution, Ms. Lane," the representative on the line offered smoothly, trying to sound reasonable. "The client won't even notice the weave difference under lighting—"​"The client will notice. So will I," Sophia cut him off with razor precision. "And since my name is on the label, my standard is the only one that matters. Send the original fabric, or I cancel the contract by four o'clock."​She hung up before he could argue further, tossing her phone onto her cutting table wi

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—someone—that concerned them both. He needed answers. He needed Jett to understand that you couldn't just slide into a woman’s life, offer her a life upgrade, and pretend the years that came before didn't count.The drive downtown had felt endless, his knuckles white against the steering wheel, his mind rehearsing a dozen different sharp, articulate speeches. But the sheer scale of the Mercer building lobby alone made his stomach turn slightly the moment he walked through the heavy glass revolving d