Reborn I Refuse to Take the Fall for My Campus Queen Ex

My girlfriend, the socalled campus beauty, suffered from erotomania. She lived in a delusional fantasy where every man she met was secretly obsessed with her.

When her condition flared, she convinced herself that a wealthy heir was sexually harassing her. In her hysteria, she beat him until he was critically injured.

Desperate to save her budding acting career, she knelt before me, begging me to take the fall. She even proposed, claiming we should get our marriage certificate immediately to prove her loyalty.

My heart softened. I agreed.

Eight years later, I walked out of prison to find she had become a washedup hasbeen. Not only was she broke, but she had fallen so low she was working as a background extra.

Fueled by rage, she seized my collar, dragging us both toward the edge of the building.

"If it weren't for you, I would have married a rich heir years ago!" she screamed, the wind whipping her hair into a wild halo. "You trash—don't you dare cross my path in the next life!"

Gravity took us.

When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day she beat the heir half to death.

——

"Evan, something happened—get here, now!"

The vast whiteness of death faded. Familiar scenery materialized around me—distant, yet achingly real. My body felt weightless, but the phantom sensation of concrete shattering my bones still crackled through my nerves.

Her voice. I froze.

Before I could speak, Natalie Fox's tone shifted. Disgust dripped from every syllable.

"Actually, don't bother coming!" she snapped. "Evan Dickerson, as of today, we are done. We're breaking up!"

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone.

Natalie had been reborn too.

In the previous timeline, her delusion had driven her to assault Carter Walker, the heir. When I arrived at the scene, panic clawing at my chest, the air was thick with the metallic tang of blood.

Natalie had stood there, fingertips and collar stained crimson. Behind her, a man lay crumpled on the floor, his face deathly pale, his breathing shallow.

The moment she saw me, she burst into tears.

"Evan! Only you can save me! Please!"

When I hesitated, she dropped to her knees. Her face contorted—anxiety, fear, desperation all bleeding together.

"Director Wang just cast me as the third female lead. I'm about to be famous," she sobbed. "I can't go to prison. Help me, okay?"

Her pitiful state shattered my resolve. I took the blame. I gave up eight years of my life.

And when I was released?

She picked apart my every flaw. When her career tanked and she ended up as an extra for the third time, her resentment boiled over. She blamed me for "ruining" her chance to marry into wealth.

Then she killed us both.

Eight years of sacrifice, rewarded with murder.

I spoke into the silence of the room. My voice came out flat. Dead.

"Fine. Let's break up."

Stunned silence on the other end. Then a sneer cut through.

"You were reborn too? Perfect. Saves me the trouble of inventing an excuse to dump you."

She hung up with a violent bang.

This was the pivotal year of her life. She had been chosen by a famous director, poised to explode into stardom with her next film.

I rubbed my thumb across the phone screen. A cold smirk tugged at my lips.

This was the most important year of my life, too.

In the original timeline, the stocks I traded had skyrocketed. I had already negotiated a partnership with angel investors. My own company was within reach.

But I had foolishly used my capital to buy Natalie a supporting role in a drama destined for massive success. That role launched her career.

For the next seven years, she produced nothing of value. She squandered her reputation and became a nobody.

And from start to finish, she never knew that money—her buyin—came from me.

I dialed the investor.

"Mr. Dickerson," the voice on the other end said. "We're in."

My heart settled. Everything was ready.

Just then, my phone screen lit up with a notification.

Natalie posted an update to her feed.

Since I caused your pain, I will spend my life making amends.

Attached was a photo of her tending to Carter Walker at his hospital bedside.

She had clearly staged the shot. "Nomakeup" makeup. A formfitting white dress designed to look innocent yet alluring. Her delicate features glowed more dazzling than a carefully arranged bouquet.

In such a short time, she had not only persuaded Carter not to press charges but had also maneuvered herself into the role of his personal caretaker.

I chuckled darkly.

Carter Walker wasn't known for his benevolence. He was a shark. I was genuinely curious to see if she could achieve her delusional "rich wife" dreams now that she had kicked away her stepping stone—me.

A week later, negotiations with the investor concluded smoothly. The project was greenlit.

"Evan, I'm very optimistic about this," the investor said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "The board has decided to inject another ten million in funding. No additional conditions."

My pulse quickened.

Ten million.

Just as I opened my mouth to thank him, my phone began to ring. I declined the call. It rang again immediately.

And a third time.

I moved to power it off, but the investor waved his hand. "Answer it. It might be urgent."

Apologizing profusely, I stepped out of the hotel conference room and swiped answer.

"Evan Dickerson, did you pull strings behind my back?" Natalie's voice was a shrill shriek. "Why didn't Director Wang cast me? Even after we broke up, you're haunting me like a ghost! Are you trying to sabotage me?"

I leaned against the corridor wall. A mocking smile surfaced.

"You have no professional training, no connections, and zero acting experience. On what grounds would Director Wang cast you?" I asked coolly. "Did you really think your talent got you that role in the last life? It was because I paid him five million to let you buy your way in."

In the previous life, that lowbudget drama had exploded in popularity, yet I hadn't seen a dime of return. Director Wang had despised Natalie's acting. I had tried to frame the five million as an investment, but he refused.

In the end, I changed the terms: the five million was simply her "entry fee." The drama's profits would have nothing to do with me. Only then did he reluctantly agree, fulfilling Natalie's stardom dream.

I knew it was a sunk cost. Money could be earned again, but I had wanted to give her a future before I went to prison. To keep her from overthinking it, I had buried the truth deep in my heart for eight years.

Silence stretched on the line.

"Just five million?" Natalie finally scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. "Do you think I can't afford that? Evan, without you dragging me down, I'll live a better life than you ever could!"

She hung up.

I returned to the meeting, finalized the details, and headed home.

The moment I stepped into my apartment, the cloying scent of sweet perfume hit me. Natalie's signature scent.

Frowning, I strode to the desk. The drawer hung open.

I stared into the empty space.

In our past life, I had promised Natalie two gold accessories every month. But my financial burden was heavy. To save money, I bought her real gold—but for myself, I bought highquality fakes to keep up appearances.

The drawer had been full of that fake gold.

She claimed she didn't want my "bad karma" affecting her, yet she had broken into my home to loot me. The drawer was wiped clean. She hadn't left a single link.

The last shred of sentiment I held for her evaporated.