After I was reborn, I poured my ‘best friend’ Veronica’s ashes down the drain. In my previous life, Veronica’s boyfriend cheated on her. He not only stole all her savings and fled but also left her with mountains of debt. Veronica was beaten to death by relentless debt collectors. In her final moments, she entrusted her daughter, Chloe, to me. To care for Chloe, my boyfriend, Brandon, broke up with me. My own parents cut me off. After I’d finally raised Chloe to adulthood, Veronica, who was supposed to be long dead, reappeared, arm-in-arm with Brandon. Brandon sneered, full of himself. “Veronica is a billionaire heiress. Who’s to say you weren’t only after her money by pretending to be her friend?” He paused, his gaze dismissive. “But now, seeing you’ve raised our daughter so well, it seems you’ve passed our little test.” I lunged forward, ready to tear into them, but my adoptive daughter Chloe actually slapped me across the face. “How dare you lay a hand on my parents?!” The shock sent a wave of nausea, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood before collapsing, unconscious, on the spot. When I woke again, I found myself reborn to the very day Veronica was beaten by the thugs.
“Cough, cough… Cassidy, you finally made it…” Veronica lay on the ground, covered in dirt, her body a canvas of green and purple bruises. Several deep gashes bled on her arms and legs. “Cassidy, what are you waiting for…? Cough, cough, get me to a hospital…” Veronica whispered, her voice barely a thread as she lay feebly on the ground. In my previous life, I’d rushed to find her after receiving her frantic call. Seeing her covered in blood, I panicked, desperate to call 911 for an ambulance. But Veronica insisted the location was too remote; she’d be dead by the time emergency services arrived. So, I personally carried her on my back, walking for over two hours back to the city to get her to a hospital. But now, remembering it was all her twisted scheme, a wave of profound disgust washed over me. “No need to call 911, it’s too remote here… Just carry me…” Veronica coughed a few times, her eyes, wide and pleading, fixed on mine. I feigned a grimace of discomfort, bending to massage my ankle. “I’m sorry, Veronica. I really want to carry you, but I just twisted my ankle. I simply can’t.” Fearing she wouldn’t believe me, I even pulled up my pant leg to show her. My ankle was already visibly swollen and red. In my previous life, I had endured excruciating pain to carry her. By the time we reached the hospital, my ankle was practically mangled, and it took a fortune to fix. This time, I wouldn’t be so foolish. Veronica’s face drained of color, making her look genuinely on the brink of collapse. Just then, an SUV pulled up beside us. The driver, a kind-faced man, asked if we needed help. To keep up appearances, I quickly smiled and accepted. At the hospital, she was immediately rushed into the emergency room. Soon, a harried female doctor burst out, declaring Veronica had lost too much blood and needed a transfusion. “The hospital’s blood supply is critically low, and coordinating a transfer from another facility would take too long, jeopardizing her life,” Dr. Evelyn Reed explained urgently. “Ms. Veronica mentioned you’re a match. Come with me, we need your blood now.” A cold smile touched my lips at her words. The exact same line as before. This doctor, Dr. Reed, had used it as an excuse to strong-arm me into giving an unsafe amount of blood in my previous life. I’d been too overwhelmed to object then. Afterward, I was so weak and dizzy, the world spun. Veronica had seized the moment to beg me to care for her daughter, and in my dazed state, I’d simply nodded. So, I turned to Dr. Reed and said, “I’m sorry, but I’m on my period right now and already feeling weak. I can’t donate blood. You’ll have to find another way.” Dr. Reed, clearly taken aback, stomped her foot in frustration before rushing back into the ER. Another twenty minutes passed. Dr. Reed emerged again, her face etched with a performative sorrow. “My apologies, we did our best, but Ms. Veronica’s condition was too critical. There was nothing more we could do.” Her voice softened, dripping with false sympathy. “She’s still conscious. You can go in and say your final goodbyes.” I nodded, my expression completely serene, and walked inside. Sure enough, Veronica lay on the hospital bed, as pale and weak as she had been in my previous life, her voice a mere whisper as she barely breathed my name. I walked to her bedside. “What do you want to tell me?” Veronica’s eyes welled with feigned tears. “Cassidy, you’re my best friend. Why didn’t you give me blood? If you had, maybe I would have…” Dr. Reed chimed in, her voice dripping with righteous indignation. “Yes, Ms. Veronica truly thought of you as her best friend, yet you refused! Poor Ms. Veronica, so young, giving up too soon. You truly are heartless.” I replied, my voice flat, “Blame your hospital for not having basic supplies. How can you not have the blood a patient needs? If something happened to me because of an unsafe blood donation, would your hospital take responsibility?”
My words left Dr. Reed speechless. Veronica’s face twisted into an ugly mask, but she quickly composed herself, her eyes now brimming with fake tears. “It’s fine, don’t blame Cassidy. It’s just my bad luck…” She continued, her voice weak but laced with manipulative urgency. “I’m dying, but I have a daughter, barely a year old. She’s so helpless. Cassidy, you’re my best friend. Please, I beg you, raise her for me.” Dr. Reed, ever the bleeding heart, let two clear streams of tears fall. “See? Ms. Veronica is practically begging you. Just say yes! You’re her best friend! Could you really be so cruel as to refuse?” All I felt was a profound sense of annoyance. In my previous life, I’d given so much blood, leaving me dazed and weak, and Veronica had even colluded with Dr. Reed to set this whole trap. I’d been too soft-hearted, which was why I had agreed to care for her daughter. But my kindness hadn’t been repaid. Brandon harbored an immediate hostility towards the adopted girl, convinced she was my illegitimate child with some other man. He refused to listen to a single explanation, packed his bags, and walked out on me, simultaneously alienating himself from his own family. I was still in college then. Unable to juggle my studies and a baby, I had no choice but to drop out. Without a degree, I was condemned to grueling manual labor. To provide for the child, I worked three jobs a day, often surviving on only three or four hours of sleep. The child’s health was fragile from birth. She was in and out of hospitals, undergoing several major surgeries, draining money like a sieve. I gritted my teeth and took out a predatory loan. But with interest compounding, it became impossible to repay. The debt collectors were brutal, harassing everyone around me. My landlord refused to renew my lease, throwing me and the child out onto the street. To escape the collectors, I moved countless times, always into the most rundown, grimy places I could find. After slogging through the toughest ten years, I finally encountered a kind-hearted male boss. He was a single dad, and he sympathized with my struggles, taking me in to work at his barbecue joint. Once I had stable work, I thought about finding a partner. But with no home, no car, dirt poor, and a kid in her early teens—finding a partner was a pipe dream. I finally met a simple, honest man who claimed not to mind my circumstances, and I thought I could finally settle down. But after barely two months, he fled, leaving only a note apologizing and saying he still couldn’t let go of his ex-wife and kids. I gave up on ever finding love again. Eighteen years passed. The child I’d poured my life into was now an adult. But then, at her celebration party, the impossible happened: Veronica, who was supposed to be dead, appeared. And claimed it was all just a test. Did I really need her as a friend? I’d wasted the most precious eighteen years of my life! Without that child, I would have graduated, landed a great job, built a respectable career, and had a loving, happy family. My life should have flourished, but she destroyed it! Even the child I’d poured my entire heart and soul into, at the first sign of conflict, chose her biological parents and turned against me. The hatred surging within me threatened to drown me whole. I clenched my fists, each word a venomous whisper. “No, I refuse.” “I’ll take her to an orphanage, but I will absolutely not raise your child for you.”
Veronica dropped her dying act entirely, shooting upright and unleashing a torrent of furious curses at me. “Are you even human, Cassidy? You claim to be my sister, but you’re nothing but an ungrateful, cold-blooded monster! You wouldn’t even give blood to save me, and now you refuse to raise my only daughter? What kind of sister does that make you?” I met her fury with a cool, mocking smile. “Well, well, Veronica. You look awfully spry for someone on their deathbed. Did this incompetent doctor here misdiagnose you?” I cast a pointed glance at Dr. Reed, who instantly averted her eyes. Realizing her act had slipped, Veronica instantly clutched her chest, collapsing onto the bed, gasping dramatically for air, her body trembling. Her acting was surprisingly convincing. Dr. Reed immediately sprang into action, pushing me out and declaring Ms. Veronica needed emergency care. Curious to see what other tricks Veronica had up her sleeve, I simply waited outside the ER. Ten minutes later, Dr. Reed emerged, holding a cooing, babbling infant. “My apologies, Ms. Veronica is gone,” she announced, her voice filled with a practiced solemnity. “This child is her daughter. Her dying wish was for you to raise her. As for the adoption procedures, you can rest assured. Ms. Veronica had made all the necessary arrangements before she passed. The paperwork, she ensured, would be finalized within two days. You simply need to raise the child well. Abandoning the child would be illegal, and if I found out, I’d personally ensure you faced legal consequences!” With that, she tried to thrust the infant into my arms. I immediately stepped back two paces. Are you kidding me? Forcing a child on someone like this is the real illegal act! Last time, blinded by that so-called sisterly bond, I hadn’t questioned a single detail of this ridiculous story. Looking back, it’s absurd. Even legitimate adoptions take weeks, if not months. “You said Veronica is dead, right? Fine. I want to see her body.” I brushed past Dr. Reed and strode into the emergency room. It was completely empty. “What are you doing?!” Dr. Reed’s frantic voice echoed behind me. “You can’t just barge in here!” I pointed to the empty room. “You said she’s dead, didn’t you? Where’s the body? Where did you take her?” Dr. Reed replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “The body was, of course, immediately sent to the funeral home for cremation.” “Sent to the funeral home already? Fine. I’m going to the funeral home right now to pay my respects.” Ignoring Dr. Reed’s frantic protests, I strode purposefully out of the hospital. At the City Funeral Home, I immediately inquired about Veronica’s remains. To my surprise, they did have a record. Moments later, a staff member brought out an urn, supposedly containing Veronica’s ashes. Last time, consumed by grief, I had simply taken her daughter home. I didn’t even attend Veronica’s funeral until a week later, after I finally received a notice. “These are Veronica’s ashes?” I asked. “Yes,” the staff member replied tersely before hurrying away. But something still felt off. Normal cremations don’t happen that fast. Even the quickest turnaround takes at least a full day. Yet here I was, less than three hours after Dr. Reed declared Veronica dead, holding her alleged ashes. It was a blatant insult to my intelligence. Without a second thought, I yanked open the urn and unhesitatingly poured its contents onto the pristine floor.
Greyish-white powder cascaded onto the floor. The staff member beside me shrieked. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Families there to make arrangements for their loved ones scattered. Whispers erupted, accusing glares shot my way. I stared at them, completely devoid of emotion, and then deliberately kicked the pile of ash on the floor. “Look closely. Does this even look like real ashes?” “It does seem a little odd. Where are the bone fragments? The smaller pieces?” a woman murmured. “Now that you mention it, you’re right. Cremation can’t pulverize every single bone into fine dust,” another added. I curled my lips into a cynical smile, then addressed the frantic staff member, my voice cutting through the murmurs. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation? The funeral home handed me fake ashes. Do you have any professional integrity at all? There are so many grieving families here. Are their loved ones’ ashes fake too?” The staff member, his face pale with panic, stammered, “Don’t you dare accuse us of such things! We follow all procedures!” I refused to back down. “Really? Veronica was declared dead at the hospital barely two hours ago. How is it humanly possible that her body has already been cremated? When did your facility become this efficient?” The crowd erupted. “Are they insane? I thought we managed our arrangements quickly, but even that took a full day. How on earth was this cremated in two hours?” Under the barrage of questions, the staff member stammered, completely flustered and at a loss for words. He’d clearly never imagined I’d publicly scatter the ‘ashes,’ much less scrutinize the cremation timeline. He managed to mumble a few calming words to the agitated crowd before scurrying back inside. A little while later, he returned, a forced, placating smile plastered across his face. “My apologies, we made a mistake. The ashes we gave you were someone else’s. Your friend’s remains are still in the process of cremation. Please bear with us a little longer.” Several hours later, the same staff member returned with another urn. And then, Dr. Evelyn Reed from the hospital suddenly appeared at the funeral home. “Before she passed, Veronica explicitly instructed me to ensure her child was placed in your care. This was her final wish. Also, here are her life savings—fifty thousand dollars. She truly hoped you would raise her child with love and care.” Her words were delivered with such righteous conviction. Then she pressed the infant and a bank card into my arms. The surrounding onlookers, unaware of the full truth, were clearly moved, and many began to applaud me. I glanced down at the infant in my arms and let out a soft, knowing chuckle. So, Veronica really wants me to raise her child, huh? Then I’ll give her exactly what she asked for.
Eighteen years passed quickly. After earning my first significant sum, I started building my social media presence. I stayed behind the camera, but my adorable adopted daughter, Chloe, was a natural in front of it. She was naturally photogenic, every gesture full of charm and life, immediately captivating audiences. Within a year of launching the account, she had amassed millions of followers. She became a child model, endorsing several national clothing brands even at a tender age. As she grew, she transitioned into professional modeling, excelling in everything from print ad campaigns to high-profile runway shows. Her current fame far surpassed what she’d achieved in my previous life. To celebrate her successful completion of a major brand show, I arranged a small, intimate celebration at a five-star hotel. My colleagues and friends were there, along with many of her industry contacts. Dressed in an elegant champagne-colored gown, I stood amidst the mingling guests, smiling as I watched Chloe, surrounded by admirers. My heart swelled with pride. Just then, the grand doors of the ballroom swung open. Veronica walked in, arm-in-arm with Brandon. Both were dressed in expensive evening wear. Veronica had maintained herself remarkably well over the years; at forty-something, she looked barely thirty. But the calculating glint in her eyes was unmistakable, allowing me to recognize her instantly. Brandon, beside her, still retained his handsome looks, though fine lines now creased the corners of his eyes. His gaze, fixed on me, was filled with undisguised arrogance. “My daughter, I’ve finally found you,” Veronica declared, her voice thick with exaggerated emotion. She advanced towards Chloe, her face radiating feigned tenderness, her hand outstretched. Everyone froze, utterly bewildered by the sudden intrusion. Chloe instantly recoiled, pulling her hand away and stepping back warily, retreating behind me. “My mother is right here. Who are you?” Chloe’s words made Veronica’s face stiffen, but she quickly reverted to her practiced, tearful expression. “My sweet child, I’m your biological mother. I was gravely injured back then, and after being pronounced dead at the hospital, I entrusted you to Cassidy’s care in my final moments. But miraculously, I regained consciousness on the way to the funeral home, snatching myself back from the brink of death. I tried to find you afterward, but you were already gone. I’ve searched for you for eighteen long years, always loving you. I am your real mother!” Veronica shed tears, putting on a show of joyful reunion. I watched her performance, a faint smile playing on my lips. She genuinely believed everything was playing out just as it had in my previous life, that this renowned young model I’d raised was her daughter. But I’d been reborn. How could I possibly fall for her tricks again? I met her gaze, my smile unwavering. “But Chloe isn’t your daughter.”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “330280”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance
Leave a Reply