Reborn to Ruin the Woman Who Framed Me

In my last life, on my first day at the company, the elevator was under repair. I let my sympathy get the better of me and hauled Isabella Lambert's water jugs up to the office. We'd been hired the same day.

I never expected her to turn around and accuse me of trying something on her in the elevator lobby, right in the camera's blind spot.

The company fired me. My neighbors whispered behind my back.

My father, who'd spent his whole life as a teacher, couldn't bear the talk among his colleagues. He jumped from the roof of the school building.

My mother, a strong, hard-driving woman, couldn't take the blow either. She wandered out onto the street in a daze and was hit by a dump truck. Killed on the spot.

I couldn't take it either. I followed my parents.

And she, riding her helpless little victim act, not only got made permanent early but married the president's son and became the lady of a wealthy household.

When I opened my eyes again, I'd somehow been reborn into that very first day on the job.

...

Isabella stood over the two jugs of water on the floor, eyes red, watching me as I headed for the stairs with my documents in hand.

"Graham Chavez, the elevator's being repaired, it's out of service, but the client's about to arrive and the conference room needs water right now. Please, I'm begging you, help me out."

I looked at that pitiful, tearful face of hers and let out a cold laugh.

"Carry the water up? You could just call the delivery guy and have him come back."

Isabella froze. Clearly she hadn't expected me to refuse outright.

"I did call the delivery guy. He said it'd cost twenty bucks. I just graduated, I don't have that kind of money. Graham, we started the same day. Can't you help me?"

She raised a hand and wiped at tears that weren't there.

"I'm not trying to be a bother, I really have no other option. If the water doesn't get up there in time, I'll definitely get fired. I really need this job."

Isabella wept with such heartfelt conviction that she quickly drew a crowd of workers who'd been downstairs smoking and slacking off.

A polished white-collar woman in rimless glasses shot me a look and pushed the frames up her nose. "How can a man be this selfish? You're all coworkers. What's the harm in giving her a hand?"

A middle-aged man in a plaid shirt, there for the show, chimed in too. "Right, it's just two jugs of water. The poor girl's so frail and delicate, why give her a hard time?"

The people around us started murmuring, all of them pinning the selfishness on me.

Seeing everyone taking her side, Isabella cried even more pitifully.

"Graham, I know I'm putting you out. But it's my first day too. How about, once I get paid, I treat you to dinner?"

Watching her, the man in the plaid shirt couldn't stand it any longer. He jabbed a finger at my nose. "You young people, no sense of decency. The girl's crying her eyes out and a grown man like you won't even lift a finger."

I ignored Isabella and turned to the man. "You think a grown man ought to help a girl?"

"Of course!" The man thought his lecture had landed, and puffed out his chest.

"Then how about you carry it up for her?" I gestured toward him, palm out, an invitation.

The man froze on the spot, his puffed-out chest deflating. "Well, I, I'm getting on in years, my back's bad."

I gave a cold laugh and turned to the indignant office woman. "You think I should help too?"

She shrank back. "Me, I can't carry water."

"You don't have to carry it. You seem kind enough. How about you front the twenty for her, and she pays you back once she gets her paycheck?"

The woman took a step back, her face falling. "What's it got to do with me? Why should I give her money?"

"So you do know it's got nothing to do with you." I threw the jab back at her and looked around at the crowd of onlookers.

Everything went dead silent.

Only then did I turn back to Isabella.

"Looks like zero people want to help you."

Isabella's face went completely white.

I waved the documents in my hand. "Sorry, Mr. Dickerson's waiting on these. I'm heading up."

With that, I walked into the stairwell without a backward glance.

Back at the office, I got Mr. Dickerson to sign the documents, then went straight to the client's company with them, hammering out the details with the client until I finally got home late that night.

When I arrived the next day, the whole office was strangely quiet. Everyone looked busy with their own work, but their eyes kept stealing glances at me.

My gut told me something had happened.

Sure enough, Mr. Dickerson came out of his office with a dark face and pointed at me. "Graham, come with me to my office."

Behind him, I saw Isabella sitting on a chair, her face buried in her hands, crying.

The exact same scene as my last life.

It had happened after all.

Last time, it was in this very office that Isabella made the case that I'd harassed her, turning me into everyone's target and destroying my whole life.

But this time, she wouldn't be so lucky.

"Mr. Dickerson, is something wrong?" I asked, playing dumb.

"You've still got the nerve to ask?" Dickerson slammed his palm on the desk and jabbed a finger at my face. "What did you do to Isabella last night?"

I kept the confused look on my face, glancing between him and Isabella, who was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. "Do to her? I didn't do anything."

"Didn't do anything?" Dickerson pointed at Isabella's red, swollen wrist. "Last night, outside the women's restroom, what did you do to her?"

At his words, Isabella cried even louder.

"Mr. Dickerson, I was at the client's office until eleven last night. I never even saw Isabella."

Isabella wiped her eyes, her voice thick with tears. "I'm a decent girl. Why would I ruin my own reputation just to frame you? It took everything I had to work up the courage to come to Mr. Dickerson for help..."

Dickerson had clearly bought every word. His face darkened. "Enough. For Isabella's sake, I won't blow this up. You're fired. Apologize to her, and then you can get out."

"Hold on." I looked at the two of them, contempt in my eyes. "You've heard one side of the story, hers, and you've already pronounced me guilty?"

"One side? What girl would use something like this to frame a man?" Dickerson looked at me like I was garbage. "I gave you this internship because you graduated from a top school. But what good are good grades? You're morally bankrupt. Scum, that's what you are."

"Whether a girl would trash her own reputation to frame someone, I wouldn't know. But" I pointed at Isabella. "She says I cornered her outside the restroom. She's lying. And she has no proof."

"No proof? Look at her wrist, all swollen. You call that no proof? She didn't do that to herself, did she?" Seeing me refuse to admit it, Dickerson only grew angrier.

"Not herself, no. Maybe someone else did it." I gave a cold smile and glanced toward the door. If I remembered right, the next act of this little show was about to begin.

Dickerson, still getting nothing out of me, was seething. He slammed the desk again. "What kind of attitude is this? You think I won't call the police and have you hauled off?"

The moment I mentioned the police, it was Isabella whose face changed first. She tugged at Dickerson's sleeve. "Mr. Dickerson, don't, please don't call the police. Graham just lost his head for a moment. Don't ruin his whole life over this."

Dickerson looked at her and softened. "You really are too kind." Then he turned back to me. "Since Isabella's pleading for you, I'll let it go. Now get out."

"Why should I be the one leaving?" I pulled out my phone. "She won't call the police, so I will."

Isabella's face drained on the spot.

The door to Dickerson's office swung open, and Irvin Lambert walked in.

Irvin had joined the company a month before me. Ordinary school, ordinary skills. If he didn't produce results soon, there was no way he'd clear his probation.

And rumor had it that our department had only one permanent-hire slot for this batch of new employees, which was why he'd always treated me as his biggest threat and rival.

He had a file in his hand and a clueless look on his face. "Mr. Dickerson, the client just called. They need you to sign this."

Only then did he pretend to notice me and Isabella, feigning confusion. "Bella, what's wrong?"

Isabella covered her face with her hands, shaking her head and sobbing.

Dickerson cleared his throat, took the file from Irvin, signed it, and handed it back. "This doesn't concern you. Get out."

Irvin hesitated, about to leave, when Isabella suddenly burst into tears again. "Irvin, you and Graham have always gotten along. Please, talk him out of it. If he really calls the police, there'll be no coming back from this."

Irvin's eyes lit up. He turned to me. "What's actually going on here?"

Through her tears, Isabella repeated the same story she'd told before. By the time she finished, the way Irvin looked at me had changed completely. "Graham, you always seemed so decent. I never would've guessed you were this kind of animal."

"Mr. Dickerson and Bella are both willing to let you off the hook, and you still want to call the cops and blow this up? If you know what's good for you, get lost. Otherwise things are going to get ugly for you."

Watching Irvin fume with righteous indignation, I couldn't help but laugh. "Well. Another lapdog."

"Whatwhat did you say?" Irvin's eyes flickered. He didn't look terribly bright.

I smiled. "You heard one side of the story from Isabella and came in here to lecture me. What else would you call that?"

"Graham, don't change the subject. Irvin and I aren't like that." Seeing Irvin thrown off, Isabella jumped in fast. "As long as you listen to Mr. Dickerson right now and leave the company, I won't press this any further. Just go, quickly."

"So I'm supposed to thank you, then?" I looked at her, smiling. "Or is it that you're afraid of something?"

"Mehow could I possibly be afraid?" Her eyes darted away. "You did that to me. You're the one who should be scared."

"Did what?" I pressed.

Isabella covered her face and started crying again.

Irvin had had enough. He jabbed a finger at me. "Graham, what are you doing? Do you have to force Bella to relive something so awful?"

"This is re-victimizing her. You're shameless." Dickerson joined in.

"Something so awful?" I laughed again. "Then let me ask you. Last night, you ran into me outside the restroom?"

Isabella nodded timidly. "Yes. I'd just finished checking the restroom and was about to leave for the day when I saw you coming back to the office. You reeked of alcohol, and you grabbed me"

Quite the convincing little story.

"What time was it?" I pressed.

Isabella blinked. "Ten... a little after ten..."

"How were you sure it was me? What was I wearing?"

"That's enough!" Irvin shielded Isabella and glared at me. "What are you even trying to do?"

I spread my hands. "Nothing. Just nailing down the details. Makes it easier to check when we pull the security footage and see whether Isabella's eyes were playing tricks on her."

"The camera outside the restroom has been broken for ages." The words shot out of Isabella's mouth before she realized what she'd said and clapped a hand over it.

Dickerson cleared his throat. "All right, enough of this back-and-forth. Apologize to Bella and get out of my company."

"Leave with a stain on my record for assaulting a coworker?" I shook my head and hit call on the number I'd already half dialed. "Hello, I'd like to report a crime."

"What are you doing?"

Seeing that I'd actually gotten through, Irvin panicked and lunged straight for my phone.

I had a head on Irvin, and I shoved him off without effort.

"This is the CEO's office at James Group. Someone's accusing me of assaulting a coworker, and I think they're trying to extort me. I need officers here to sort it out." One hand pinning Irvin's head down, I got the words out fast and hung up.

Irvin and Isabella exchanged a look, faces gone ugly.

"Who told you to call the cops?" Irvin glared at me like I'd killed his father.

I pushed him back. "Why shouldn't I call the cops? Or do you know something?"

Irvin stammered. "What would I know"

"So you don't want me calling the cops?" I looked at him, unimpressed.

Irvin glanced at Isabella again before he squared his shoulders. "You, you drag the police in here, how's that gonna make the company look? You've dragged the company's name through the mud. Do you even care about this place?"

"He's about to fire me." I pointed at Mortimer. "And I'm supposed to care about the company?"

"That's right, Graham. You just have to blow this up, don't you, ruin the company's reputation to feel good about yourself? Just apologize and go, quickly, before this gets past the point of fixing."

I shook my head and looked at Isabella, letting the meaning sit. "I did nothing wrong. When the police get here, I have a feeling someone else is going to find this hard to fix."

"Graham, you actually called the cops. Now I can't show my face anywhere. I don't want to live!"

Isabella yanked the door open, screamed it out, and ran off with her hand over her mouth, crying the whole way, making sure the marks on her wrist were on display.

Coworkers swarmed to her at once, comforting her and throwing looks at me.

"This piece of trash, bullying our Bella, and he's got the nerve to call the cops."

"Right, just get lost already. I don't want a coworker like that."

"Some graduate from a big-name school. What a disgrace to his university."

"Don't be scared, Bella. Mortimer's going to fire him right now. We'll protect you from here on."

Hearing the coworkers pile on, Isabella cried louder, swearing she was going to go kill herself, until they held her back.

Irvin raised a fist at me, and I shoved it right back down.

Irvin sneered at me. "See that? You just had to push Bella. If anything happens to her, I'll have your life!"

Mortimer cleared his throat and patted the air with his hand. "Everyone calm down, calm down. I promise I'll deal with Graham seriously, and give Bella, give all of you, an answer."

"Wait." Stella James, who'd kept her head down over her work the whole time, suddenly looked up. "That's not right. This is all what Bella's saying. Does she have proof? And you've already decided Graham did it?"

Stella was our team lead, an alumna of my school, and she'd always looked out for me.

Still, that she'd speak up for me here caught me off guard.

Hearing Stella defend me, Mortimer's face went cold. "Stella, what are you doing? You can't just cover for Graham without any regard for right and wrong, only because he's on your team."

"I trust the kind of person Graham is." Stella said it flatly, and it warmed me more than I expected.

Isabella spoke up too, all stammering pity. "Stella, we're both women. How could I ever ruin my own reputation just to frame someone?"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Stella gave Isabella another look, her tone heavy with meaning.

Isabella was about to say more when the door swung open and two officers walked in, glanced around, and frowned.

"Who called it in?"

Seeing the officers come in, I raised my hand. "That was me. My name's Graham Chavez."

The lead officer nodded. "Go on, then. What's the situation."

Before I could get a word out, Isabella suddenly broke free of the coworkers, threw herself down in front of the officers with a thud, and knelt there sobbing, her whole body shaking. "Officer, please, help me. Everything I said is true. It's Graham, he's the one trying to hurt me Last night at the office, right by the restroom door, he put his hands on me"

She rolled up her sleeve and showed her red, swollen wrist.

"I'm just an intern fresh out of school. I've got no power, no connections, not like Graham, who's a local. I had no other way, so I went to Mortimer to get me justice. But instead, Graham won't even admit it, and he called the cops. Officers, you have to stand up for me"

The officers frowned.