In my previous life, my mother, who worked as a live-in housekeeper for an affluent family, was given the opportunity to send one of her daughters to study alongside their son. They claimed my sister, Ivy, wasn’t as good at academics as I was and insisted she should be the one to study with him. As a result, Ivy went to Oakridge Academy, the elite private school, while I attended Westbrook High, the local public school. Years later, I became a renowned software designer, while Ivy met a tragic end, dying in a foreign country, bruised and broken. On my way to retrieve her ashes, the plane I was on crashed. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day we had to choose schools. This time, Ivy, with fear written all over her face, chose Westbrook High. And I became Spencer Whitlock’s study partner. That’s when I realized: Ivy had been reborn too. Content It was rare for both my parents to be home, but they were today, their faces glowing with excitement as they prepared a table full of good food. I glanced at the calendar—it was the day. “Violet,” my mother said, tugging Ivy toward her, ignoring the way Ivy tried to pull away. “I’ve got great news.” Her smile was wide, nearly triumphant. “Mrs. Whitlock, the lady I work for, said we can send one of you girls to study with her son at Oakridge Academy.” Ivy’s brow immediately furrowed. I stayed quiet, watching from the sidelines. As expected, my father spoke up next. “Rae’s grades are good enough to succeed anywhere. Ivy, this is your chance. You should take it.” Just like my past life, they weren’t even giving me a choice. The only difference this time? Ivy, who had once fought tooth and nail to be Spencer’s study partner, now shook her head violently, panic flashing in her eyes. “I’m not going!” Her voice was so loud it startled me. “Mom, I can’t go. My grades are bad—what if they look down on me? Or bully me? Please don’t make me go! Let Rae go instead!” she pleaded, her hands clutching at my mother’s arms. Mom seemed hesitant, but Dad’s expression turned dark with irritation. “What are you saying? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! How can you—” He stopped mid-sentence, glancing at me. I stayed calm, continuing to eat the rare feast on the table without so much as a glance in their direction. “Dad, I mean it! This is a terrible idea, and if you force me to go, I’ll… I’ll kill myself!” Ivy screamed, tears streaming down her face. Her outburst left our parents momentarily speechless, unsure of how to handle her hysteria. But they couldn’t stand the idea of letting this golden opportunity slip by without someone in the family taking it. It wasn’t until Ivy grabbed a fruit knife and pressed it to her throat that they finally caved. Smirking triumphantly, Ivy shot me a victorious glance from behind our parents. I knew then: Ivy had also been reborn. What she didn’t realize was that so had I.
My mother worked as a housekeeper for the prominent Whitlock family in Crestwood, earning their favor for her excellent care of their son, Spencer. In my past life, she had rushed home with news of the opportunity, eager to share it with Ivy. Ivy had been terrified I might steal her chance to climb the social ladder, practically moving into the Whitlock Estate that same night. Little did she know, I didn’t care about the opportunity at all. I had already secured a full scholarship to Oakridge Academy with my stellar grades. I hadn’t told my parents because I didn’t want to be in the same school as Ivy. But now that she was altering her choice, it worked perfectly in my favor. Once the matter was settled, my enrollment process went smoothly. Before school started, Ivy shot me a cold glare and sneered. “Violet, make sure you enjoy your new life.” I smiled internally. Spencer Whitlock? Ivy, you’ve got it all wrong. He’s just a spoiled, entitled rich kid. He’s hardly worth my attention. This time, I wasn’t just going to change my fate—I was going to rewrite the rules entirely.
“You’re the one my mom brought in as a glorified maid?” Spencer Whitlock’s disdain was evident from the second he laid eyes on me. His words, as rude as his expression, were as shallow as his personality. It was clear Ivy hadn’t had it easy under him in the last life. But that was her choice, not mine. His group of cronies erupted in laughter at his insult and began circling me. “Wow, someone really sent their kid here to be a servant?” “Hey Spencer, is this your childhood bride?” “She’s not bad looking. Why don’t you keep her around?” Their taunts didn’t faze me. I met Spencer’s gaze calmly, which seemed to irritate him even more. “Hey! What are you staring at, you brat?” “At an idiot,” I replied flatly. Before I knew it, I was gripping the finger he had pointed at me, ready to snap it. He yelped, his face contorted in pain, while his entourage froze in disbelief. “Even without your family’s connections, I’d still be here on my own merit. So drop the superiority complex—it makes you look ridiculous.” With that, I turned on my heel and walked toward the principal’s office. Unbeknownst to the Whitlocks, I had been accepted into Oakridge Academy on their prestigious scholarship program. They had bypassed proper admissions channels for me, but I had every intention of claiming what was mine. The principal greeted me warmly, even escorting me personally to Ms. Vanessa Harper, my homeroom teacher. “She’s one of our star students,” he explained with a smile. “Please see to it that she’s given every opportunity to thrive.” Ms. Harper nodded, seating me next to another scholarship student, Skye Langston. Skye was a quiet, frail-looking girl who seemed vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t place her. Regardless, I was determined to carve out a different path this time. Unfortunately, Spencer wasn’t going to make it easy. He pulled one juvenile prank after another. Dead bugs in my locker. Ruined lunches. Random spills of ink or water. But the last straw came when he dumped a bucket of dirty water over my desk. Grabbing a mop, I marched over and shoved it in his face. The shocked look on his smug features was almost worth it. “Violet Sullivan! Have you lost your mind?” he bellowed. I shoved the mop further, cutting off his rant. “Spencer Whitlock, push me one more time, and next time, it won’t just be a mop.” The class went silent as he fled to the restroom. Meanwhile, I calmly cleaned my desk and returned to my seat. Skye looked at me with wide-eyed admiration. That’s when Ms. Harper entered, motioning for me to follow her out.
I followed Ms. Harper silently down the hallway to the office. Inside, Spencer Whitlock stood with his arms crossed, a smug smirk plastered across his face. “Violet Sullivan, Spencer says he needs a one-on-one tutor,” Ms. Harper said, her tone neutral. “He claims you’ve been incredibly helpful and specifically requested you.” I glanced at him. That infuriating smirk deepened, his arched brow practically daring me to react. Such an immature stunt—exactly what I’d expect from someone like Spencer. He’d handed himself over to me on a silver platter. Why would I say no? The first tutoring session was in the library. I walked in with my books in hand, only to see Spencer seated at the table, wearing a faintly mischievous grin. He really couldn’t hide anything. Every thought he had was written all over his face. The moment I sat down, he snatched my pen and stuffed it up his sleeve, adopting an exaggerated look of innocence. “Did you forget to bring a pen?” he asked. I raised an eyebrow, then calmly pulled another pen from my pocket. “I always come prepared,” I replied dryly. Undeterred, he swiped at my books, sending them tumbling to the floor with a loud crash that drew annoyed looks from nearby students. “Oops,” he said with a mock shrug. As I bent to pick up my books, I said, “Do you ever get tired of this?” “Not really,” he replied with an infuriating grin. Just as I straightened, he snatched my notebook and pretended to fling it across the room. I calmly reached into my bag and pulled out a pair of scissors, stabbing them into the table right in front of him. “If you keep this up, my hand might slip next time,” I said coldly. Spencer’s face drained of color, his confidence crumbling under my glare. The second tutoring session was during study hall. This time, he smeared glue on my chair before I arrived. I immediately noticed the faint gleam of glue but said nothing. Circling behind him, I waited for my chance. When his guard was down, I grabbed his backpack and dumped all its contents onto the floor. “Violet Sullivan, are you crazy?” Spencer barked, leaping to his feet. He seemed ready to throw a punch but froze when I held up my scissors, a wicked smile on my face. “You enjoy playing games, right? Let’s see how you like it.” His face turned bright red, but he didn’t dare retaliate. By the time his lackeys scurried to help him gather his belongings, Spencer had completely forgotten about the glue. He sat down without thinking and immediately regretted it. I strolled up and leaned against his desk, grinning. “Remember what I told you? ‘What goes around comes around.’” Spencer gaped at me, unable to form a coherent response. After failing twice to humiliate me, he finally gave up on his childish antics. To my surprise, he started taking his studies seriously. And when he did, the results were astounding. By the next exam, he ranked in the top ten of the class. Ms. Harper practically beamed as she waved his score report in the air. Even the Whitlocks were astonished at his sudden transformation. A month later, I was invited to the Whitlock Estate. It was the first time I’d seen my mother since school began. Ivy was there too, glaring daggers at me with a venomous expression. Spencer, on the other hand, greeted me with a shy, almost endearing smile as he led me to his study. 4. At dinner, I finally met Mrs. Eleanor Whitlock, the lady of the house. She exuded cold authority, but when speaking to me, her demeanor softened into something resembling kindness. I knew better. She only saw me as useful. Spencer chatted with me amiably throughout the meal, while Ivy silently fumed, her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. Afterward, Ivy pulled me aside into the garden. Her expression was icy, her voice sharp. “How are you doing this?” I tilted my head in mock confusion. “Doing what, Ivy?” Of course, I knew exactly what she meant. In our previous life, she had been sent to Oakridge Academy as Spencer’s study partner. But Ivy had never been good at academics. She couldn’t keep up with the rigorous curriculum, let alone help Spencer. Instead, she had suffered constant pranks and humiliation. Too timid to stand up for herself, Ivy endured everything in silence, terrified of losing the Whitlocks’ support. That fear had only emboldened Spencer, who escalated his torment until it culminated in an unforgivable act. Drunk and careless, Spencer assaulted her before their senior year. The Whitlocks had whisked them both away to Europe, trying to bury the scandal. But Ivy’s suffering didn’t end there. She clung to Spencer like a lifeline, enduring unspeakable abuse until her death. And yet, none of that had anything to do with me. Back then, I’d had no choice—just as I hadn’t been given a choice now. Our parents had always handed Ivy the best of everything, leaving me with scraps. Even this time, Ivy had tried to push me into the fire, hoping I’d burn in her place. But now that Spencer treated me with respect, her carefully hidden malice had finally spilled out. “You think Spencer Whitlock is a good person? The Whitlocks don’t care about you. You’re just smart, that’s all. Stop acting so smug.” I stared at her trembling, furious face. “Is that all you’ve got to say, Ivy?” Spencer appeared out of nowhere, his voice cold. “Whatever you have to say about Violet is irrelevant. She’s under my protection.” Ivy’s face went pale. Her fear of Spencer was deeply ingrained from our past life. Watching their exchange, I felt nothing but disgust. Without another word, I turned and went back inside, leaving them in the garden. Watching my mother flatter Mrs. Eleanor Whitlock, showering her with praise about how “talented” her other daughter was, made me feel sick. She was shamelessly pleading for Ivy Sullivan to be transferred to Oakridge Academy as well. After relentless cajoling, Mrs. Whitlock finally relented, though her furrowed brow showed her displeasure. I stood there, cold and detached, watching this farce unfold. The wheels of fate had already turned. As long as I was in control, nothing would ever go back to how it was. As for my so-called parents? Let them pin their hopes on their favorite daughter. All I wanted was to live my life on my own terms.
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