Reborn: Climbing to Life's Pinnacle

By noon the next day, right after the STEM exam,

Brittany yanked me over to the cafeteria, handing me a lunchbox claiming Dad made it himself to reward my hard work.

Reward?

More like an attempt to take me out!

I grabbed the lunchbox, catching that sneaky glint in her eye.

English was next, her best subject. She didn't need to sabotage my score; she'd ace it anyway.

Clearly, she thought I was expendable and started scheming.

I smirked coldly, flipped the lid, and dumped the steaming contents right onto her head.

She yelped in pain, frantically trying to clear the mess off her hair.

I hurled the lunchbox to the floor and slapped her hard, twice, grabbing her hair with visible disdain. "Mess with me again, Brittany, just try."

After the English exam, I didn't stick around for Brittany to block my way. I bolted.

Hung out at a diner till eight, then hit up the nearest lottery shop.

Eight PM—the lottery results were in.

The three tickets I bought last night? Jackpot—all hits, totaling thirty million.

The same clerk who mocked me yesterday was now staring in disbelief at the winning numbers.

With the winnings secured, I checked into the area's most luxurious hotel for a month.

I learned about a local underprivileged area where kids were dropping out because they couldn't afford school fees.

I spent my own past life struggling with work and school yet received no respect.

Reflecting on that, I immediately donated twenty million.

Then I found a peaceful house in the next town over and paid a year's rent.

During my hotel stay, Dad's calls were relentless, always the same old rant.

"Where on earth are you, brat? Get back here and make dinner!"

"Get moving and earn some money for your sister's tuition!"

"You better never come back, or I swear I'll beat you senseless!"

"..."

His latest message was from yesterday.

[Results are out tomorrow. Your sister did well, so I've invited relatives and reporters...]

I tucked away my SAT practice tests and spent some time primping in front of the mirror.

Today was the big reveal for Brittany's scores after all.

On such a special day, I couldn't possibly miss it.

Following the old man's directions, I arrived at the city's most opulent restaurant.

Brittany had vowed to live-stream her score check in front of family, friends, and reporters.

The room was packed, and there she was in the center, decked out in a white gown and a tiara.

She looked smug as ever like the title of SAT champ was already a thing in her pocket.

She saw me and theatrically made a path through the crowd, beckoning me to sit by her.

The relatives were eating it up.

They were using every chance to dig at me to praise Brittany, the rat with ego.

"Quinn, how did you fare this time?"

"I've heard Quinn's pretty sharp, must've outscored her sister, right?"

"Well, no matter how smart, bad character ruins it all."

"I heard she dumped hot food on her sister during the exams just to mess her up."

"Seriously, how low can you go?"

"..."

The gossiping relatives didn't bother to whisper; it was clear they wanted us to hear every word.

Brittany's smirk widened as she heard those words.

But she squeezed my hand, feigning concern.

"Don't worry about them, Quinn," she whispered sweetly.

I yanked my hand away as if I'd touched something vile, my smile outshining hers.

"Why would I get mad? Not everyone's as petty as some people think."

Her smile stiffened instantly.

I dismissed her and shifted my focus to the head of the banquet.

Dad had squeezed into a suit and was schmoozing up by the school officials, his greasy smile more revolting than ever.

It was 1:55 PM, just five minutes until the official results were announced.

That'd be five minutes later.

As I surveyed the noisy crowd, I remembered the same moment from my previous life.

Back then, I was oblivious to Brittany's score swapping and thought I'd nailed the SATs, jumping straight into work to ease our financial burden.

On June 24th, Dad had me come home for a "celebration", and still in my yellow work uniform, I went to the restaurant.

There were also so many reporters surrounding outside.

I thought he'd finally recognized my efforts, wanting the press and family to celebrate my success.

But it turned out to be nothing more than a cruel setup orchestrated by him and Brittany.

When the results came out, she scored perfectly while I tanked.

Reporters who had surrounded me swarmed towards her instead.

Relatives started their mocking, and Dad went on record, portraying me as the jealous villain at home.

He compared me to a toad, to enhance his swan's image.

In no time, I became an outcast, vilified by everyone.

The memory was hard to stomach.

I closed my eyes, counting down silently.

Thirty seconds left.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door of our private room.