All Chapters of Reborn Rich: My Fiancé and Step-Sister Killed Me Once.: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

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

​​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

​ARDEN​I was still mentally drafting an answer to Riley’s urgent email as I stepped through the heavy steel doors into the corporate parking garage. My thumb flew across my phone screen, my focus split completely between a series of supply chain updates and finding my car in the dimly lit lower tier.​That was my first mistake.​The click of heavy soles against concrete echoed through the cavernous space. Before I could hit Send, two men stepped out from the shadows between a pair of parked SUVs, blocking the path to my vehicle entirely.​My stomach dropped straight through the floor.​"Ms. Steele," the taller one said, his voice terrifyingly pleasant—like he was greeting me at a corporate board meeting instead of cornering me in an empty garage. "You're going to want to come with us quietly. Don't make a scene."​Like hell I will.​I didn't waste a single second arguing. I kicked off my high heels, whipped around, and sprinted in the opposite direction. Adrenaline flooded through m

​ARDEN​I gave my formal statement at the scene first, huddled on the rear bumper of the ambulance with a heavy wool blanket draped over my shivering shoulders. A detective stood in front of me with a pen and notepad, recording every single detail I could pull from my memory—the way the garage had gone deathly quiet, the exact rasp of the woman's voice, and the terrifyingly calm phone call regarding the wire transfer.​"You mentioned you broke one of their noses in the garage," the detective said, glancing up from his notes.​"I did," I said, my jaw tight. "I drove my elbow back as hard as I could."​"Good." A ghost of a satisfied smirk crossed his face before he wrote it down. "That's going to make identifying him significantly easier if my officers haven't already processed him."​They had.​Word crackled over the radio clipped to the detective's shoulder less than twenty minutes later. The man with the shattered nose was already in holding at the precinct, sitting under interrogat

​​Diane called eleven times before Lucas finally picked up his phone, sitting alone at the dark kitchen island while Rita slept fitfully upstairs.​"You need to come here," Diane said without so much as a greeting, her voice tight and razor-thin—controlled in the precise, terrifying way she got when she was holding back a massive wave of hysterical rage. "Your father and I need to see you. Right now, Lucas."​He drove over that evening in painful silence. The tree-lined street of his childhood home looked completely unchanged—warm, yellow light glowing softly through the window sheer curtains. Somehow, that familiar sight made the entire ordeal ten times worse. Walking into a house so grounded in suburban respectability while carrying the stench of a federal indictment was suffocating.​Diane opened the front door before he even made it up the porch steps. The expression on her face when she looked at him was a agonizing wreck of relief, profound disgust, and raw fury tangled togethe