Her Betrayal, My Rebirth
img img Her Betrayal, My Rebirth img Chapter 1
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Chapter 6 img
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Chapter 1

The applause was like thunder, but a cold sweat trickled down my back. I stood in the middle of a massive crowd, the lights of the stage blinding me. My head throbbed. One moment, I was falling, the city skyline spinning around me. The next, I was here, at the TechFusion conference, the air thick with the smell of new electronics and corporate ambition.

I was alive.

I looked down at my hands. They were steady. I took a deep breath. The air filled my lungs, a sensation I thought I' d never feel again. This was real. I had been given a second chance, brought back from the brink of a self-inflicted end.

My eyes scanned the room, quickly piecing everything together. The giant banners overhead read "TechFusion 2024: The Future is Now." I recognized the faces in the front row-CEOs, industry giants, and the ever-present tech journalists. This was it. This was the day it all went wrong. The day my career, my reputation, and my spirit were shattered.

The memory was a sharp, painful jolt. This was the conference where my colleague, the influencer Brittany Hayes, was scheduled to give a keynote speech. A speech she was disastrously late for. A disaster I had foolishly tried to contain.

On stage, the host was visibly flustered, his smile tight and unnatural. He kept glancing at his watch, then at the side of the stage, his anxiety palpable.

"It seems our next speaker, the one and only Brittany Hayes, is running a little behind schedule," he announced, his voice straining to sound cheerful. "But don't you worry, folks, she'll be here any minute!"

The audience was getting restless. Murmurs rippled through the auditorium. The schedule was tight, and Brittany' s delay was throwing everything off.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, my heart pounding in my chest. A text message glowed on the screen.

From: Brittany Hayes.

"OMG Sarah, traffic is a nightmare! I'm gonna be late. Can you go up there and stall for me? Just say some smart marketing stuff. You're good at that. Pls pls pls save me! 🙏"

It was the exact same message. Word for word. The same plea for help that had led to my public humiliation. In my past life, I had agreed. I had gone on stage, trying to salvage the situation for her, only for her to arrive and frame me as a desperate attention-seeker who had tried to steal her spotlight.

My blood ran cold. The past was repeating itself, a perfect, horrifying loop.

But this time, I knew the script.

A cold certainty settled over me. This wasn't just a second chance at life. It was a second chance at justice.

I didn't reply to the text. Instead, my thumb moved decisively over the screen, and I pressed the power button, holding it down until the screen went black. I shoved the phone deep into my bag.

I pulled the hood of my jacket over my head and slipped on the face mask from my pocket. Blending into the crowd of tech enthusiasts was easy. I just had to disappear.

"Is Sarah Miller in the audience?" the host's voice boomed over the speakers, laced with desperation. "We know she' s a senior executive from Brittany's firm. Sarah, could you perhaps come up and share a few words while we wait?"

Heads turned. People started looking around, searching for my face. A few people who knew me glanced in my direction.

I didn't move. I kept my head down, my body hidden amongst the hundreds of others.

Let him call. Let them search.

I wasn't her savior this time. I was a ghost at the scene of the crime, and I was going to watch the criminal hang herself. Brittany wanted the spotlight? Fine. She could have it all to herself.

I wouldn't get involved. I wouldn't go near her. In my past life, trying to help her was like stepping in filth. This time, I was going to stay clean.

            
            

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