During my senior year, I intentionally failed my tests so I could pay the "school heartthrob" to tutor me, all to help him out of poverty. He hated me for it, claiming I was stealing time away from his childhood sweetheart. When he found out my actual SAT scores were 400 points higher than his, he cursed me—the "evil rich girl" with a fake heart—saying I’d never find true love. Later, he killed me. Even at my grave, he didn't forget to warn me: "If there’s a next life, don’t bother with your fake pity. Don’t try to force a relationship that was never yours." As he wished. In this life, I never asked for tutoring. He finally had all the time in the world to wash dishes and bus tables with his sweetheart at a greasy diner. 1 The school heartthrob, Jax Thorne, lost his father three years ago. His dad, a firefighter, died in the line of duty during a massive warehouse fire. My family owns the Sterling Dining Group, a massive chain of restaurants, one of which was saved by his father’s crew. To honor his sacrifice, my family donated $150,000 to his mother. Grief-stricken, his mother became chronically ill and was hospitalized. By the time Jax and I were seniors at the same elite public high school, his family had drained the life insurance and the donations. When my mom found out he was in my honors classes, she offered another $100,000. Jax rejected it with a cold glare: "Stop insulting me with your charity." In my past life, I came up with a plan. I tanked my placement exams to rank at the bottom, then hired Jax as a high-priced tutor. I thought it would save his pride while giving him a way to stop working double shifts at diners so he could focus on his SATs and his sick mother. But he hated me for it. First, he believed the tutoring sessions took him away from his sweetheart, Lily Miller, causing her to fall for a "bad boy" at a rival school. Second, he felt my high SAT scores were a personal insult. He didn't think a "failing student" like me should be smarter than him, and he accused me of using money to buy my way into his life. He told me he could never love me. He cursed me to never find happiness. Later, he reinvented himself. He got into a decent grad school and started a high-end medical aesthetics company. Being a former "heartthrob," his face was his best marketing tool. He made ten million dollars quickly. He finally got the courage to find Lily, only to discover she was pregnant with twins by a billionaire twenty years her senior. His ten million was pocket change compared to that family's estate. So, Jax turned all that resentment toward me. He invited me to his clinic for a "complimentary treatment," then secretly injected a neurotoxin into my veins. He masked my death as a "rare aesthetic surgery complication." My parents wanted justice. But knowing it happened at the company of a "hero’s son," they were blinded by respect for his late father. They believed Jax’s lies. He even helped organize my funeral. After the burial, Jax swindled my parents out of a new investment. He stood at my grave, gloating. He warned me with pure malice: "If there's a next life, don't play the saint. I never needed your handouts. I wasn't worth your 'pity,' and I certainly didn't need your money. It was your arrogance that killed you. I have a clear conscience." Maybe the universe saw the injustice. It gave me a second chance. This time, I won't hide my light for a second. I won't give a loser the chance to earn a single cent from my family. And I won't let him hurt me again. 2 Holding my failing mid-term report card from junior year, I walked into my house. Seeing my parents looking years younger felt like a dream. My mom took the report card, fed me a slice of orange, and winked. "Our little genius is back. Take your vitamins and fish oil, Chloe. But don't forget, you were the top student in the district. Don't get too into character as a 'struggling student.'" I swallowed the orange, fighting back tears. "Starting today, we’re not hiring Jax Thorne to tutor me anymore. And for the next exam, I’m not failing on purpose." "Also, if he applies to work at any of our restaurants, please tell the managers to reject him." My mom looked startled, exchanging a glance with my dad. In the previous life, they agreed to my "undercover" tutoring plan to help Jax, but they had endured a lot of gossip because of it. The daughter of the district's top scholar was suddenly failing in an honors class. For two years, people whispered that my middle school grades were faked or bought. "Rich kids only know how to calculate money, not math," they’d say. "She’s just trying to get close to the hot guy. She's trying to 'upgrade' her family's genes because, usually, it’s either a beauty with a beast or a plain girl with a hunk." My parents had endured that shame just to help a hero’s son. And I had been so deep in the "role" that I actually developed feelings for Jax. I defended him constantly. I was a teenager; I was a sucker for a handsome face and a "brooding bad boy" trope. But the tears were gone now. I spoke firmly: "I’m not joking. I’m going to the study to catch up on my own." Just then, the doorbell rang. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Miller, led a cold, arrogant-looking Jax into the foyer. Seeing his 18-year-old face made me want to gag. I suppressed the urge and let out a scoff: "I bet tutoring a 'rich girl' like me is beneath you, Jax. You can leave now." "I'll pay you for today, but if you don't want 'charity,' feel free to decline the Venmo. From tomorrow on, don't come back. My family’s house is big, but we’re done playing the Good Samaritan for someone who greets us with a sneer." 3 The phantom pain of the toxin in my veins still haunts my nightmares. I woke up in a cold sweat, screaming. My mom rushed in to comfort me. "Chloe, what’s wrong?" She wiped the sweat from my forehead. "It’s just a dream. We’re here." "Mom," I whispered, hugging her tight. "Can we make sure none of our partner restaurants or suppliers hire Jax Thorne for part-time work? Don't give him a single chance to earn money from our network. Not even as a dishwasher." My mom was confused. "Chloe, what happened? Yesterday you were obsessed with helping him. Did he do something to you?" I couldn't tell her about the rebirth; it would sound insane. I just explained that Jax had repeatedly shown contempt for our family's "dirty money" and that he had rejected her $100k donation. My mom understood. She agreed. But she added that if he couldn't work for us, he’d likely end up at our rival's place—Vance’s Bistro. The place with terrible reviews, known for mistreating staff, but still somehow popular. I nodded. That was exactly the plan. I had a new goal: clearing the air and getting my revenge. First, make Jax realize exactly who he is without our support. Second, make him suffer. Third, watch him fall. 4 As expected, a week later, Jax was working part-time at Vance’s Bistro. Initially, he didn't care about being rejected by other places because Lily Miller was also working there. To him, being with Lily was the only thing that mattered, even if the pay was $5 less an hour than what my family’s restaurants offered. Every day after school, Jax and Lily would meet at the crosswalk, share a cheap snack, and take the bus to go wash dishes. Jax’s mother’s hospital bills were astronomical. In the past, my family’s "tutoring fee"—which was five times the market rate—had kept them afloat. But without it, his $12-an-hour dishwasher job didn't even cover the interest on the debt. He started begging the hospital for extensions. He started working graveyard shifts and skipping school to bus tables. Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Harrison, noticed. He called Jax to his office. Harrison didn't want a top-ten student to waste his potential. He gave Jax $1,000 out of his own pocket and promised to organize a class-wide fundraiser. During study hall, the donation QR code was passed around. My desk mate, Sarah Jenkins, scanned it and sent $200. "That’s my whole coffee and breakfast budget for the month," Sarah sighed. "Chloe, I know your family is loaded, so don't laugh at my small donation." I didn't stop my pen. I didn't even look up. "I'm not donating." Sarah froze. "What?!" "Didn't you used to pay him a fortune for tutoring? He’s basically your mentor. And your family is so charitable—like the movie Parasite says, the rich are nice because they can afford to be." "Wait, that came out wrong. I'm not trying to judge you, I’m just curious..." I put my pen down. I passed the QR code to the person behind me. "You can't be too nice, Sarah. Otherwise, you become a 'Saint' that everyone hates. Look up 'malice of the beneficiary.' If I donate, he’ll just feel insulted and probably try to pick a fight with me for 'flaunting' my wealth." Sarah laughed. I whispered in her ear: "I’m just trying to stay safe. Seriously." "Two years ago, my mom tried to give his family $100k, and he acted like we spat on his face. I’m done trying to force my 'pity' on someone who doesn't want it. The Sterling bank is closed for Jax Thorne." During the next class meeting, Mr. Harrison announced the total: $10,498. He coughed and looked directly at me. "Most of you are very kind students. However, some people who could afford to help chose to stay silent..." At the same time, an icy, hateful glare shot toward me from the front row. Oh, it was our charity case, Jax. 5 I stared right back at him, waiting for him to say something. He just turned away, silent. I packed my bags and went home. I needed my sleep. I had the finals tomorrow, and I intended to dominate the exam hall again. It had been a while since I allowed myself to be at the top. A week later, the results were posted. I jumped from the bottom to the top 30 in the grade, and top 5 in my class. Jax, who had been a top-10 student for years, plummeted to rank 100. The school went into a frenzy. "No way! Chloe Sterling is top 30? She improved by over 300 points? She had to have cheated!" "Wait, wasn't she the district valedictorian in middle school? Maybe she's just back in form?" "Everyone said she bought that title. And look at Jax! Why did his grades drop? Did they swap papers? He needs money for his mom..." Mr. Harrison called me into his office. "Did you cheat, Chloe?" "No." "Prove it. Why is your score so much higher than Jax’s—the boy who was supposedly tutoring you? You didn't donate to him; did you use that money to buy his answers instead?" I laughed. "Why should I prove anything? Burden of proof is on the accuser." "Mr. Harrison, I used to respect you, but I see you've got a bias. My parents started with a food truck and worked 80-hour weeks for a decade. They focused on quality and service. If you're so bothered by wealth, feel free to quit and start your own truck." "You have to admit that wealth buys time. It buys the ability to focus on studying instead of survival. And my family pays a massive amount of taxes that fund this school's 'education grants'—which you've benefited from. Don't bite the hand that feeds the district. If you're confused about how the world works, read an economics book." Harrison was speechless. "You... you have no respect for your elders!" I walked out. "Respect is earned, not given by a title. Stop trying to label people just because they don't fit your narrative." 6 I walked back to class, and Jax was waiting by my desk. He still had that look of pure condescension. "Can we talk outside?" I rolled my eyes. "Say whatever you have to say right here." He stayed quiet for a moment, then spat out: "What did you say to my mom? She wants to see you. She’s asking for you at the hospital." "Listen, she wants to see you, but that doesn't mean I accept you. There's nothing between us. Stop playing these mind games to get my attention." I stood up and slapped him hard. "Stop talking like a narcissist. I'm not playing games. I stopped paying you because I realized I could get a better score than you without your 'tutoring.' Why would I waste my money on someone who looks like they're smelling something bad every time they see me?" "And 'us'? Jax, have I ever asked you out? Have I ever sent you a letter? No. You’re the one standing at my desk right now. Get some self-awareness and stop wasting the reputation your father built." Jax’s face turned bright red. He looked shocked, then roared: "Whatever! I told you she wants to see you. I’m going back to work to earn my own way." "Then go bus your tables and stop acting like a martyr, you hypocrite!" I shouted at his back. Sarah Jenkins stopped sipping her latte and grabbed my hand. "Chill, Chloe. Your cortisol levels are going to spike." "I'm fine, Sarah. Getting that out of my system is better than any detox." I offered to take her out for Korean BBQ to celebrate our scores. Sarah had moved into the top 30 too. We walked out of the school, ignoring the whispers of our classmates. At the restaurant, we stuffed ourselves with brisket and pork belly. Sarah pulled out two boba teas. "To the top 30! Next year, let's aim for the Ivy League!" "To giving up on being a 'Saint,'" I added. We clinked our cups. "To a bright future." 7 A week later, I saw Jax at the hospital while I was there for a check-up. He was checking his mother out. Not because she was better, but because she was worse. She had suffered a massive stroke. She was partially paralyzed. They were broke. The crowdfunding only covered the initial debt. People lose their "generosity" when a case becomes a long-term burden. Jax’s mother saw me and my mom. She feebly waved and thanked us. She knew my family had helped them in the past and wanted to show her gratitude. "Jax doesn't want to ask for more money," she whispered. "He’s a proud boy. I'll just do my physical therapy at home. He can help me after he finishes his shifts at the diner." I looked at Jax. He was scowling, his hands covered in Band-Aids. He pushed his mother’s wheelchair into the cold wind to wait for a bus. He was taking out his frustration from Vance’s Bistro on us. I called my contact at the Bistro. I had a "vibe checker" working there. Jax was having a nightmare of a time. He hadn't received his full paycheck because he broke a stack of "custom-made" plates, and the manager charged him triple for damages. He tried to go back to his old jobs, but every restaurant in the Sterling network and our partners had a "no-hire" note on his file. "Is this the Thorne kid? Sorry, Sterling Group is a major stakeholder here. We can't hire him." Jax finally realized that making money was hard. He had to work double shifts, skip more classes, and endure the abuse at Vance’s Bistro just to buy his mom’s meds. Meanwhile, Lily Miller was no longer washing dishes. The manager put her in a glass booth at the entrance to "perform" as a prep cook because she was pretty. She hated Jax’s constant complaining and started ignoring his texts.
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