บททั้งหมดของ Reborn to Reject: A Million to Burn the Cheater’s Regret: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

The afternoon sun in Manhattan was piercing, yet it offered no warmth to the damp, cramped apartment Luna now called home. She sat huddled on the cold floor, her fingernails digging into the legal documents that had been shoved through her mail slot. The force of her grip nearly tore the paper.It was an official summons from the Harris Estate Trust in Ohio. The charge: "Grand Larceny" and "Embezzlement." The total amount demanded, including late fees and penalties, was a staggering one hundred thousand dollars."One hundred thousand..." Luna’s teeth chattered, her voice a fragile whisper.Only months ago, that sum would have been the price of a single limited-edition necklace Lucas bought her on a whim. Now, it was a mountain destined to crush her into dust. Every cent of her savings had been drained into the "Good Faith Bond" for that fake executive position. She was now so broke she could barely afford next week’s rent.With trembling

The wail of police sirens felt jarringly out of place against the backdrop of Fifth Avenue’s refined elegance. As Luna was escorted into the squad car, her fingers—once adorned with expensive polish—were now clamped into the cold, unyielding bite of steel handcuffs."Sophia! You can’t do this! Those things were just trash you didn't want anymore!" Luna’s shrill screams drew sharp looks from passersby, many of whom had already raised their phones to capture the spectacular fall from grace.Sophia stood at the boutique entrance, the sunlight tracing a sharp, statuesque silhouette. She offered no response. Instead, she watched calmly as Ella stepped forward, handing a duplicate court document to the lead officer."Officer, here is the Pre-litigation Asset Freeze Order issued by the court. These items are disputed assets and are strictly prohibited from being sold pending the outcome of the lawsuit. Miss Carter’s actions constitut

In the dark, damp Room 302, the door gave a final, splintering cry under Lucas’s boot. Lucas burst in, radiating pure malice, his fist clenched so tightly around the blinking red micro-camera that his veins stood out in stark relief."Sophia! I knew you’d be here!" He scanned the room, his eyes landing on the empty leather armchair and the still-swaying projector screen. His voice was hoarse with suppressed rage. "Spying on me, gutting my company with tax audits, and now hiding in this godforsaken hole playing ghost games. How far are you planning to push me?"His bodyguards moved swiftly, sealing the exits. Sophia stood in the center of the room, the faded photograph already tucked securely inside her trench coat. Faced with Lucas’s thunderous fury, her heart raced, but her eyes remained as cold as a stagnant pool."Spying on you?" Sophia let out a cold laugh. She didn't retreat; instead, she took a step forward, staring directly into Lucas&rs

The St. Jude Care Center was a skeletal monument to human frailty, its silhouette cutting a jagged, mournful shape against the bruised purple of the pre-dawn sky. Inside, the motion-sensor lights in the endless corridors groaned to life with an intermittent, rhythmic hum, casting a sickly, clinical pallor over the linoleum floors. Sophia had flatly refused Ella’s frantic offers of company. She chose to tread this forbidden territory alone—the very soil where both her dignity and her previous life had been unceremoniously buried in a shallow grave of debt and despair.As the elevator doors groaned open on Basement Level 2, a draft of pressurized cold air hit her with the force of a physical blow. It was laced with the sharp, artificial sting of formalin and the heavy, underlying scent of stale decay. The air here felt stagnant, ancient, and thick with the psychic weight of a thousand lost souls. Every inch of shadow seemed to harbor a familiar groan—the echo of her own dying self, gasp

The first light of dawn over Manhattan was not the warm, golden glow of a new beginning, but a sharp, surgical silver that pierced through the thick, settling dust of the St. Jude Care Center. The air in the basement had grown still, the scent of formalin retreating like a defeated ghost. Outside, the wail of sirens had faded into the distance, replaced by the rhythmic, relentless clicking of camera shutters and the white-hot glare of flashes gathered like a storm front outside the glass-and-steel offices of Vertex Consulting.Sophia stood before the mirror in her private dressing room, the silence of the morning wrapped around her like a shroud. She lifted her hand, her finger gently tracing the faint, pinpoint red mole at the corner of her left eye. It was no longer a blemish or a symptom of a terminal end; it was a brand. It was a mark of unimaginable pain, yes, but also a badge of absolute power. She could feel the two co