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Her Turn to Break the Rules Novel Cover

Her Turn to Break the Rules

After a decade of being framed as a bully by Linda Lowe, the protagonist is publicly humiliated and destroyed by her own fiancé and brother. Following a tragic end, she wakes up in her senior year of high school. Confronted by Linda’s manipulative tactics once more, she abandons her previous restraint. This time, she embraces the villainous role they forced upon her, choosing to fight back with raw aggression and expose the truth behind the lies.
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Chapter 5

She was at a loss for words, unable to utter a single sentence.

In the end, all she could do was keep crying.

For the first time, I realized how satisfying it was to embrace being the villain.

Of course, she ran to tell the teacher.

The teacher called me to the office, where I put on a tearful performance, recounting the events of my birthday party.

By the end, I pulled out a hospital diagnosis.

"Because of her lies, my brother humiliated me in front of everyone that night. I cry every time I think about it, and I even wake up from nightmares.

"I’m seeing a therapist now, and I’m on medication. The doctor says I’m severely depressed."

In the end, the teacher ended up comforting me instead.

It was no secret that I disliked Linda.

Rachel, baffled, asked, "Why do you keep targeting her? Did she ever actually do anything to offend you?”

I tilted my head and smiled at her.

"Can’t I just be a spoiled rich girl who looks down on the poor transfer student?"

"Yeah, right."

She rolled her eyes at me.

"If you were really like that, why haven’t you bullied me? My family’s even worse off than hers.

"On our first day as friends, you bought me enough school supplies to last three years. If I’m supposed to believe you’re a bully, I might as well believe I’m Cleopatra. Even I’m not that clueless."

Exactly.

Everyone understood that much.

Everyone except my brother and the man I liked.

I curved my lips into a faint smile, but there wasn’t a trace of warmth in my eyes.

…

A month later, the school prepared to celebrate its hundredth anniversary.

In my previous life, Linda performed a piano solo at the anniversary gala, arranged by Shawn and Alec.

Her performance caught the attention of a talent scout in attendance, who granted her the only special admission spot to their prestigious program.

And me?

I had been trained in dance since I was four years old, practicing for over a decade. I had prepared a classical dance routine for the gala.

But Alec found me before the performance.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the campus, he pulled me into a gentle hug and murmured, "Don’t perform, Sierra. I don’t want everyone else to notice how beautiful you are—it’ll make me jealous. Just dance for me, okay?"

Back then, I was a fool.

I thought it was his way of caring about me.

So, on the night of the gala, I didn’t perform.

Instead, I stayed in the empty dance studio, performing for him over and over again.

When my routine finally ended, a thunderous wave of cheers erupted from the auditorium in the distance.

Alec heard it and suddenly smiled.

He was always so gentle and reserved around me, his smiles faint and almost hazy, as though separated by a veil.

It was the first time I saw him show such obvious emotion.

I stopped dancing, naively asking, "Are you happy?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Yes, I’m happy."

At the time, I thought his happiness came from watching me dance just for him.

It wasn’t until much later that I learned the truth.

He was happy because Linda’s performance was a resounding success.

The only light in his life had found her bright, dazzling future.

…

I submitted the dance routine I had prepared long ago.

But this time, it wasn’t a solo performance.

I pulled in every girl in my class who was interested in performing, and together, we choreographed a group classical dance.

I hired a professional instructor, splurged on the most expensive costumes, and had the finest props custom-made.

By comparison, Linda’s simple piano solo in a plain white dress seemed far too underwhelming.

I wasn’t sure what sob story she told Shawn, but that evening, when I returned home after school, he stopped me in the garden.

"Sierra Wood."

He looked at me with a cold, expressionless face.

"For the school anniversary performance, I want you to drop out from your act.”

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