Reborn Against Family Schemes

On the day I was supposed to check out the house, I arrived at the meeting point on time to meet the owner and the real estate agent. The agent was already there and mentioned that the owner would arrive shortly. He seemed eager to seal the deal and kept emphasizing the house's advantages. While I wanted to finalize it quickly, I pretended to be indifferent to keep some room for negotiation. After all, saving money is always a smart move.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting. You must be Ms. Stone, right?” A pleasant and all too familiar voice reached my ears. I composed my expression and turned around, only to be met with surprise. Why did the homeowner look so much like my current boss, Kingsley Lynch? And today, of all days, I had called in sick...

Realizing that Kingsley and I knew each other, the agent became even more personable, probably feeling optimistic about closing the sale. I awkwardly greeted Kingsley, silently worrying that I might end up signing the deal today only to lose my job tomorrow.

Nonetheless, after seeing the house in person, I was convinced it was perfect, so I gathered the courage to express my interest despite Kingsley's friendly demeanor. To my surprise, Kingsley offered an additional 10% off the original price. This unexpected break left me too elated to worry as I signed the contract on the spot.

After the agent left, I quickly apologized to Kingsley. “I’m really sorry, boss. I didn’t mean to skip work. It’s just that this house is too good, the price was right, and I was afraid…”

Kingsley gave a gentle smile. “No worries, I took the day off too.” I couldn't help but think that being a big boss is a whole different game compared to us regular employees.

“By the way, Ms. Stone, it’s lunchtime. Want to grab a bite together?” Truthfully, I wasn’t thrilled about socializing with my boss outside of work, but feeling indebted, I forced myself to agree with a cheerful smile.

“Sure, just call me Genevieve.”

“Alright, but privately, don’t call me boss; call me Kingsley.”

I agreed to his suggestion, though it felt a bit awkward.

I initially thought that since Kingsley had given me such a generous discount, I should treat him to lunch. But the restaurant he chose was a well-known and expensive local spot, so I quietly swallowed my offer. As the food arrived, I couldn’t help but ask out of curiosity, “Um… Why did you give me that 10% discount?”

I still couldn’t quite bring myself to call him by his first name directly.

“Because you were straightforward,” Kingsley replied, pouring coffee into a cup. “I don't usually handle these buying and selling matters. The last time I did, it left a lasting impression.”

Rarely handles it himself? Seems his assets are more extensive than I thought.

“Feeling more reassured now?” Kingsley asked, smiling warmly as he served me a piece of the signature dish with shared utensils.

After the meal, he offered me a ride, but I was too embarrassed to impose further. Just as I was about to politely decline, I heard familiar voices at the entrance.

“Genevieve!” “Genny!” At the sound of those voices, I frowned. I hadn’t planned on avoiding them forever, but seeing Peyton and Isabella again so soon felt rather inconvenient.

Isabella hurried over and grabbed my hand. “Genny, do you know how worried we’ve been these past few days? You blocked us, and we couldn’t reach you.” She glanced at Kingsley. “Even if our family said something that day, you shouldn’t have just walked out without a word.”

“It was just a single dish you didn’t get to eat. Did you really have to make such a big deal out of it? You weren’t like this before.”

Several restaurant staff members were observing us now. Peyton immediately hushed; as a well-known pianist, both domestically and internationally, he had a fair number of fans. He often disguised himself to avoid being recognized and chose quieter dining spots.

He lowered his voice and said, “Come with us to the private room!”

I felt a pang of regret at how accommodating I must have been for him to expect me to jump at his call. I ignored him and turned to Kingsley, “Boss, shall we go?”

Kingsley nodded, hesitated for a moment, then followed my lead. Unexpectedly, the two of them abandoned their meal and followed us to a nearby underground parking lot.

With fewer people around, Peyton grew bolder and grabbed my hand directly. I frowned and snapped, “What do you think you’re doing?!”

Peyton’s face darkened, “Taking you to see Uncle Stone.”

Isabella tried to block Kingsley. “You’re Genny’s boss? Please don’t interfere; this is strictly between her and us…”

“If it’s between you and her, doesn’t she have a say in whether or not I can intervene?” Kingsley replied, stepping around Isabella to approach me.

Peyton clung tightly to my hand. “Peyton, you’re a pianist, right? If you’re not keen on playing anymore, I can help with that.” I raised my phone, pointing it at the hand holding mine.

Peyton genuinely feared I would hurt his hand. Panic flickered in his eyes, and he instinctively let go, staring at me in disbelief. He must have been quite stunned since, during our relationship, I had valued his hands more than he did. Any bumps or bruises, and I would be beside myself with worry.

In retrospect, how foolish I had been. I didn’t want to spend any more time with them, so I asked Kingsley, “Could you drive me home, uh… Kingsley.”

Kingsley chuckled, “I’m only in my early thirties, not old yet—come on.” My face flushed, and I quickly followed him.

Isabella tried to stop me. “Genny, don’t be like this. Do you know what happened after you left that day?”

What, that they couldn’t pay the bill? As expected, Isabella said, “There was an unexpected incident that day; Peyton and I couldn’t use our phones, and our parents don’t understand electronic payments…”

I smiled wryly, “What’s that got to do with me? I barely ate anything that day. Don’t you think you should be the one to settle the bill?”

Isabella bit her lip, “I… my phone had died.” “Genevieve,” Kingsley called, opening the door of a Bentley Continental, “Hop in.”

“Sure thing!” I eagerly complied, moving to open the opposite door and sliding into the seat. Once Kingsley was seated behind the wheel, he started the car and steered toward the exit.

In the rearview mirror, I saw Peyton and Isabella trying to chase us down, but then Isabella clutched her chest and doubled over, with Peyton quickly supporting her.

Was it a heart attack? Real or fake, who knows. My dear sister may have a weak heart, but I don’t believe this trivial matter could provoke her.