Chapter 1

In my previous life, I poured my family's savings into Diego Torres. He was a scholarship student I mistook for a tech prodigy, and I helped him become a billionaire.

His way of thanking me was conspiring with his first love, Kiana, to kill me in an explosion.

My mistake cost me everything.

But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in the campus cafe, years before my murder. There was still time to fix every mistake.

Diego sat across from me, demanding a thirty-thousand-dollar monthly allowance for Kiana, or else he would refuse my funding.

In that instant, I knew he had been reborn too.

Chapter 1

Avery May's POV:

"Avery," Diego began, "you have to pay Kiana a monthly living allowance. Thirty thousand dollars. Otherwise, I will no longer accept your funding."

My coffee cup stopped halfway to my mouth. I set it down, my gaze falling first on the napkin, then on Diego's face. A predatory gleam flickered in his eyes, exactly like when he stood beside me right before the end.

In that instant, I knew. He had been reborn too.

"Thirty thousand dollars?" I repeated, my tone flat and devoid of emotion.

The sheer audacity of the demand was a carbon copy of the one he made in my past life-a life I was now reliving. It gave me a chilling sense of déjà vu. He hadn't learned a thing; everything was playing out exactly as I remembered.

Diego nodded, his chest puffing out slightly. His cheap synthetic shirt clung to his frame. "That's right. For Kiana. She deserves all of this. And you, Avery, will benefit from this investment too."

"My future business empire has no room for the indecisive, or for those who don't support my vision." With that, a condescending smile crept across his face.

I studied him carefully. He wore a threadbare jacket and frayed sneakers, carrying the faint, lingering scent of cheap ramen. He was still just a scholarship student scraping by, barely surviving on financial aid.

Yet, he spoke as if he already owned a private jet.

His resurrected ego floated above his impoverished reality like some grotesque balloon.

In my past life, I had invested heavily in this man.

I had seen his ambition and mistaken it for genuine talent, funding him out of a misplaced sense of duty. I thought I was nurturing true innovation; I thought I was lifting someone out of the mud.

I was wrong. I was doing nothing but enabling a parasite.

My voice remained steady, a dangerous calm simmering just beneath the surface.

"Wake up, Diego. You're just a scholarship student. Your parents still live in a trailer park outside Bakersfield. You're barely scraping by. What exactly about you screams 'destined for greatness' that I should be investing in?"

I watched the color drain from his face. His mask of arrogance cracked, revealing a flash of genuine fury.

He hated being reminded of his humble origins, a fact I had always politely ignored in the past. But not anymore.

I reached for the napkin he had pushed toward me. My fingers gripped the thin paper tight. With slow, deliberate movements, I tore it in half, then into quarters, and finally into tiny confetti, letting the white scraps flutter down onto the table.

"I reject your demands, Diego." My voice cut clearly through the cafe's noisy chatter and the clinking of silverware. "Absolutely not. Unequivocally, no."

Right on cue, Kiana Baxter stepped out from behind a row of bookshelves, wearing a perfectly calculated look of vulnerability.

Her eyes were wide and brimming with tears, darting back and forth between Diego and me. She wore a carefully chosen, simple dress that made her look pitiful, almost childlike.

"Diego, what's wrong? Why is Avery acting like this?" Her voice was a soft quiver, engineered to elicit sympathy.

She clung to Diego's arm, pressing herself against him as if seeking shelter from my imagined cruelty.

Diego immediately wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "It's nothing, babe. Avery is just... having a hard time accepting her place."

He glared at me, his eyes filled with a vindictive edge.

"She doesn't understand the sacrifices we've made, or our vision." He stroked Kiana's hair in a show of false comfort. "Don't worry, Kiana. I'll handle everything. You won't have to suffer."

I watched their little performance, a cruel reenactment of countless scenes from my past.

Kiana always weaponized her fragility. I remembered her "bone marrow transplant"-a life-threatening illness she used to play Diego like a fiddle, convincing him he was her ultimate savior.

I also remembered how I had secretly paid a fortune to a specialized clinic in Switzerland for that very "transplant," entirely without Diego's knowledge.

"I won't let either of you suffer anymore," I stated flatly, cutting through their charade. "Furthermore, my funding ends here. Diego, your scholarship is terminated, effective immediately."

I pulled out my phone, scrolling through my contacts until my thumb hovered over a name. "I'm sure the university would be fascinated to learn how you've been embezzling your scholarship funds-paying off Kiana's mother's gambling debts and living far beyond the means of a 'destitute student.'"

Diego went pale.

He had misappropriated the money meant for his education to satisfy Kiana's endless demands. He had been careful, but I had access to all the accounts. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"This is completely unacceptable," I continued. "I refuse to keep supporting someone so entitled and utterly devoid of integrity." I locked eyes with Kiana. "Nor can I support a partner who constantly drains other people's resources, manipulating everyone around her for personal gain."

Diego finally found his voice. "Fine!" he spat aggressively, gently pushing Kiana behind him and puffing out his chest again. "If that's how you really feel, I don't need your charity, Avery! My genius will shine on its own. I don't need your pathetic little contributions to build my empire!"

His voice was loud, echoing slightly in the cafe and drawing a few curious glances. He was trying to project an air of rebellious independence, making a theatrical show of rejecting my "charity."

I merely raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Do you really think you can succeed without the seed money, the connections, and the ideas I handed you in our past life?

But I didn't say it out loud. I was looking forward to the show.

"Speaking of 'contributions,'"

I said, pulling a crisp, formal business card from my purse. I flipped it over and scribbled a number on the back.

"Eighty thousand dollars. That is the total amount of scholarship funds disbursed to you so far. I'm sure you recall the terms of the agreement. In the event of early termination or misuse of funds, the amount must be repaid in full. Diego, I need that money back. Now." I slid the card across the table, dodging the scattered confetti.

Diego stared at the card. The disbelief on his face quickly gave way to burning rage.

"Eighty thousand? You think I have that kind of cash? Are you crazy? I'll pay you back... with interest, Avery. When I'm a billionaire. You'll regret this. You'll be begging for my attention, begging for a ticket into my world, but by then, it'll be too late."

He still didn't get it. His previous success had been built entirely on my resources, my connections, my faith, and even the market insights of my father's that I had unwittingly shared with him.

He arrogantly believed his ideas were solely his own, convinced his success was an absolute inevitability.

Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone again and fired off a quick text to my family's finance department: "Freeze all pending scholarship disbursements to Diego Torres. Initiate recovery proceedings for the $80,000 immediately. Have the legal team draft a repayment agreement."

My finger tapped "Send."

The future tech mogul hadn't just lost his future funding; the money he already had was now entirely cut off.

Diego stared at me, eyes wide with horror as the message went through. He scrambled for his own phone and checked his banking app.

His face fell. The money was gone. He was thoroughly and completely screwed.

"Sign this." I pushed the repayment agreement I had prepared earlier today across the table.

It was a standard legal document, legally binding him to repay the $80,000 debt. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the pen.

Meanwhile, Kiana looked absolutely terrified. She whispered, "Diego, what are you doing?"

"You'll regret this, Avery," Diego spat, unwilling to show weakness in front of Kiana. He snatched the pen and angrily scribbled his signature. "You'll regret crossing me."

"I highly doubt that," I replied calmly, retrieving the signed document. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have real business to attend to. Unlike some people, I don't build empires on borrowed prestige."

Diego yanked Kiana to her feet, his face crimson with a toxic mix of shame and rage. He shot me one last venomous glare before storming out of the cafe, Kiana stumbling to keep up with his frantic pace. Then, they were gone.

I knew the game had only just begun.