Reborn Heiress: My Vengeance Begins

1: 1

After my father made the cover of a business magazine, the poor girl I'd been sponsoring insisted on coming to his birthday party.

In my last life, I felt sorry for her and brought her in to feel what family warmth was like.

But that same night she crawled into my father's bed, faked the evidence, and claimed she'd lost a baby in a moment of passion.

My mother couldn't take the shock. After the divorce, she was committed to a psychiatric hospital.

My father had no way to clear his name, and he wasted away and died.

She took the fortune my parents had built and became the darling of the whole country, the "heroine who rose from nothing."

Later she came to see me out of nowhere.

"Big sister, you were born rich, and yet your family was destroyed and everyone's gone. Doesn't that make you angry?"

"All the money your family made belongs to me now. Doesn't that make you angry?"

"I'll tell you the truth: your father never touched me. Doesn't that make you angry?"

"And I owe it all to you, for taking me to your father's birthday party."

When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day Harper Lawrence was coming to the birthday party.

She was standing right in my office doorway.

Wearing the dress I'd given her, holding an embroidered "Hundred Peaches for Long Life" panel, her face full of expectation.

"Mary, I heard Mr. Harrington is turning fifty."

"You sponsored me for four years, and I could never repay it."

"So I embroidered this hundred-peaches piece myself. It's just a little something from the heart."

Every inch of her the humble, grateful girl pouring out her heart.

But that fawning face made me want to be sick.

In my last life, she lay in my father's bed, blood beneath her, and in front of a room full of guests she cried out:

"Mr. Harrington, you just lost your head for a moment."

"The baby's gone, but we can always try for another."

My father couldn't say a word in his defense.

That birthday became the shame of his life.

My mother broke down, and after the divorce she was committed to a psychiatric hospital.

My father was cornered by the shareholders, and for the sake of the company's image he gave Harper a name and a place in the family. A year later, he took his own life in his depression.

Harper transformed herself into the grassroots heroine the whole internet adored, the girl who "rose above being taken and abused by a powerful man."

"Mary?"

Harper said hopefully:

"Mr. Harrington looked so admirable in that magazine. You and your mother are so lucky, to have someone like"

"That won't be necessary."

I cut her off.

"It's a family gathering. It isn't right for outsiders to come."

She froze. "But... but I'm not an outsider!"

"Back when I couldn't even afford to eat, you sponsored me for four years. I've thought of you as family for the longest time"

"That's your business."

I said coldly:

"I sponsored you because I have a kind heart. It has nothing to do with you."

Harper's mouth fell open.

She'd never imagined that I, who had always been so patient and caring toward her, could say such a thing.

The office door swung open.

It was my assistant, Peter Norris, with the reporter Job Chavez behind him.

Peter looked all eager to help. "Ms. Harrington, I brought Reporter Chavez up."

Job had his livestream running. "Let's put a positive spin on the company, promote your charitable work sponsoring underprivileged students!"

"A birthday gift Ms. Lawrence embroidered by hand, what perfect material."

The camera swung to Harper, and the tears came instantly.

She choked out:

"I don't deserve to go. She sponsored me for four years, but she won't even let me attend the birthday party. I suppose I'm just not good enough..."

The comments on Job's livestream scrolled by in a frenzy:

"Total setup, this."

"A gift the girl stitched by hand, thread by thread. That's cold."

"See that? That's the face of the rich. Charity on the surface, cold-blooded arrogance underneath."

In my last life, I'd wanted to protect Harper's pride, to let her feel the warmth of a family.

But in this life, there was no way I'd invite the wolf inside again.

"I already said"

I cut him off and turned to face the camera:

"Family privacy isn't material for your promotion."

"I respect all of you. I'd ask you to respect our ordinary family life as well."

Some of the comments started to shift:

"Rich people are allowed their own freedom too, aren't they? I wouldn't want strangers in my family's business either."

"The girl's the one acting like she's not an outsider."

Tears still clung to Harper's lashes, but something hard flickered in her eyes, the look of someone who wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted.

I'd seen that look before.

In my last life, when she knelt in front of the cameras demanding a "name and place," her eyes were exactly like that.

"Mary, I really only wanted to feel what a family is like."

She bit her lip. "Do you... think I'm not good enough to set foot in your home?"

Peter, standing in the doorway, darkened. "Ms. Harrington, is this wise?"

"This could hurt the company's image."

"People will say we're cold and heartless. That doesn't fit the open, welcoming brand the company stands for."

"I really don't understand. Why would you let a golden opportunity like this slip away?"

"Peter, remember your place."

"Whether it's wise or not isn't yours to decide."

Peter's face went stiff on the spot.

Job glanced between us. "So the livestream..."

I smiled.

"The livestream was agreed on. But if you want a story to run, you can interview Harper personally."

"Ask her how much I gave her over these four years, and what state she was in when I gave her a new life."

Back then, Harper was a left-behind child. After her grandparents died she couldn't find her parents, and she went hungry as often as not.

I saw the report, saw how gaunt and sallow she was, reached out to her, sponsored her, found her a school in the city.

I never imagined it would come back on me like the farmer and the snake.

I raised my hand and had security throw them out.

When I died in my last life, my mother was in the psychiatric hospital and the grass on my father's grave had grown back three seasons over.

Now I'm twenty-three.

Everything can still be redone.

2: 2

The birthday party was changed into a private affair, moved to a small island my father owned.

I went out to the island early. Peter wanted a hand in the venue setup too.

I turned him down flat.

"Don't bother coming. I'm handling the whole thing myself."

In my past life, Peter had stayed glued to Harper's side the entire time.

After everything blew up, he became the "eyewitness."

Face grave in front of the cameras, he'd said:

"Mr. Harrington really did with Harper... I shouldn't say it, but the poor girl."

It was that "witness" who nailed my father down for good.

This time, old scores and new ones would be settled together.

He wasn't getting another chance to twist the knife.

On the day of the party, the island sat surrounded by water on all sides. Harper couldn't have gotten in even with wings.

But after the shareholders' speedboat pulled up to the dock, a second speedboat came in right behind it.

It was Harper.

Behind her came Job hauling his camera, and Peter.

She was still cradling that embroidered picture, and she smiled at me all sweet and meek.

"Mary."

My mind went blank for a second.

"Who gave you the right to do this on your own?"

Peter jumped in fast.

"Ms. Harrington, the party's a publicity opportunity. Reporter Chavez will film the whole thing."

"Let the public see a real example of our company helping students in need. It's good for the stock price too."

"Chairman Harrington already agreed."

I turned to look at my father.

My father was a man who'd known hardship from childhood, who'd taken his share of cold looks, and it had made him unfailingly warm and kind to people.

He had no idea how poisonous Harper was underneath. He saw only the surface and took her for a pitiable orphan girl.

Playing host to the shareholders, he nodded at Harper with a smile too.

"Come now, child, you're a guest on the island. Don't be shy."

For a moment everything went dark in front of me.

Scenes from my past life came crashing down.

My mother, in hospital gowns, sitting by the window of the psychiatric ward, folding clothes over and over, murmuring, "Clifford Harrington wouldn't, he wouldn't."

My father on his deathbed, gripping my hand, his lips working as he said:

"Sweetheart, Dad really never touched her..."

No one believed him. No one.

I strode over, took my father by the arm, and pulled him back half a step.

"Dad, come here a moment."

He blinked.

"What is it?"

I dropped my voice.

"Today you say nothing at all, and you stay at least ten feet away from Harper."

"If she puts food in your bowl, switch bowls. If she tries to talk to you, walk away."

"Why? Isn't this the girl you've been sponsoring for years..."

"Just do as I say."

I gripped his sleeve.

"I'll explain later. Right now, promise me."

He couldn't make sense of it, but he knew me. He knew I never did anything pointless.

So he nodded. "All right."

The banquet was set in the glass conservatory, open on every side.

I put my father at the head of the table, my mother on his left, me on his right.

Harper was walled off completely.

She was seated behind the shareholders, at the very far end of the table.

Job's camera could catch her, but she couldn't get anywhere near my father.

When Harper sat down, her smile flickered for an instant.

She quickly slid the sweet, meek look back on, lifted her cup, and said in front of the shareholders:

"Uncle, happy birthday."

"I don't have anything worthy to offer. This Hundred Peaches piece took me four whole months, every stitch done by my own..."

The shareholders looked at her with approval.

"Every stitch by hand. The girl really does know how to repay a kindness."

"Thank you."

My father nodded, but didn't take the cup.

Her hand hung in the air, awkward for two seconds, and she pushed on, refusing to give up.

"I've read that magazine article about you several times, Uncle!"

"You had it so hard starting out when you were young, building all this from nothing. I admire you so much!"

"And now, Auntie's getting on in years, and Mary's so busy. I could come to the house and take care of you..."

Hearing that, my mother couldn't help but glance at me, as if to say:

"So that's it..."

My father caught her expression and cut off Harper mid-flow.

"Eat."

The shareholders all sensed something off. You could feel the mood turn cold.

Behind his camera, Job frowned, probably deciding there was nothing to shoot.

Peter stood in the corner, phone screen glowing, texting someone.

Harper still wouldn't let it go.

She stood, carried her wine glass around the table, eyes crinkling as she smiled.

"Uncle, let me drink a toast to you..."

I stood and blocked her.

"You know yourself he's getting on in years. He can't drink."

"Mary, I just want to thank Uncle myself..."

Her face finally couldn't hold it.

Her lashes trembled, her eyes reddened fast, and her voice came out neither loud nor soft, pitched just right for the camera to pick up.

"Did I do something wrong... I only wanted to repay you..."

Job pushed his lens in close.

The comment feed would be filling up again, no doubt.

I stepped in front of the livestream lens.

"Dinner's over, Harper. Get ready for your interview, and be quick about it."

Harper's eyes were full of resentment.

I turned to the bodyguards.

"Tonight, put Harper in the other house."

"Do not let Harper anywhere near our main house."

But early the next morning, I heard a scream from the corridor of the main house.

"It hurts so much..."

My heart jolted. Harper's voice?

3: 3

I ran straight over.

Seven or eight people had already gathered in the hallway.

A few of the shareholders who'd stayed over after the birthday party stood in the doorway in their pajamas.

Job Chavez had his camera trained on the door at the far end of the hall.

Harper was crying.

"I don't blame you, Mr. Harrington..."

"You couldn't help yourself either..."

Harper sat on the edge of the bed, the blanket pulled up to her chest, her shoulders bare, dark purple choke marks running from her neck down to her collarbone.

There was blood on the sheets. Dark red, soaked through in a wide stain.

My father had clearly just woken up. He stared at the tangled bedding, his pajama top still unbuttoned.

"Why are you in here?"

Harper's face was streaming with tears.

"This child... it's yours, Mr. Harrington!"

"Last year, when you called me out to see you, that's when I got pregnant."

"I never dared say anything... and now it's gone... all of it, gone..."

The room erupted.

The shareholders crowding the doorway went livid, seething.

"Clifford! You're over fifty, what kind of thing is this to do!"

"You sponsored a young girl and sponsored her right into your bed?"

My father's voice went hoarse.

"I didn't! Take her out where? There's nothing to it!"

"I've never once been alone with her!"

"How can you deny it?"

Harper wept in ragged little gasps.

"You said so many sweet things to me."

"You said your wife was too old, no fun anymore, said Marilyn would marry off sooner or later and couldn't be counted on..."

"You said you wanted me to give you a son. Have you forgotten all of it?"

Job's lens pushed in steadily, fixed on my father's face.

Peter sighed.

"Chairman Harrington, you have to give an answer now. If this blows up, it's bad for everyone."

"An answer?"

My mother's voice came from behind me.

She stared at my father, her eyes rimmed red.

"Clifford, is what she's saying true?"

"I didn't!"

My father's eyes went red too.

"You have to believe me, I never touched her!"

"Then whose child is it in her belly?"

"I don't know!"

"Then where were you last night?"

My father said, loudly,

"I couldn't find my blood sugar medication, so I came out to look for it, and after that I don't know anything."

Harper was still sobbing on the bed. The blanket slipped down a little, showing more of the choke marks.

She shot me a glance, and the corner of her mouth flicked up for an instant before she pressed it back down.

I knew that look too well.

In my last life, after she'd won, she came to my home to gloat.

"Right up to the day he died, not one person believed your father. Tsk, tsk, how pitiful."

Fine. Then I'll teach you what it means: don't court death, and you won't die.

What happened last time, I will absolutely not let play out again the way you want it to.

I stepped forward and blocked the lens.

"You want an answer."

"You'll get one right now."

I looked at Harper.

"Just say it plainly. What do you want?"

Harper lifted her eyes to me.

"Sister, my family is poor, yes. But a poor person's heart is a true heart too!"

Several of the shareholders wore looks of pity.

"Well said, girl!"

"That's right, being poor doesn't mean you can be pushed around!"

Harper went on.

"I'm still young. All I know is that when someone does a thing, they have to take responsibility for it."

"Mr. Harrington and I were sincere with each other!"

"This child is lost, but I'll give Mr. Harrington another one!"

"He has no son. He shouldn't have to live with that regret his whole life."

"But a child is innocent. I don't want a title for myself, but the future child has to have one. You can't just let it be born a bastard."

The shareholders started murmuring.

"That's true, if you did it, you have to take responsibility!"

Harper looked through her tears straight at Job's recording setup.

"You can't take advantage of me just because I've got no one to lean on."

That phrase, "no one to lean on," stirred everyone's feelings up at once.

My mother swayed, nearly fainting.

I caught her and had someone take her to the treatment room first.

Then I turned back to Harper.

"You say my father took you out alone?"

"Where did you go, who paid."

"Spell it all out, one thing at a time."

"Spell it out clearly, and I'll set things right for you."

Harper's lips moved.

Peter panicked.

"Ms. Harrington, now isn't the time for this. Calm Harper down first..."

"Otherwise it blows up, she sues, your father goes to prison, the company implodes, and we're all finished!"

Hearing that, the shareholders tensed up too. "Exactly!"

"The company's image is what matters. Do you have any idea how much a scandal hurts business?"

"Morgan Walker, over at that rival firm, got sued over exactly this kind of thing."

"Did time, watched his image collapse, went bankrupt."

"It's all on camera now. Do you want that to happen to our company?"

The moment Harper heard the word "sue," a smug look crossed her face.

She was betting we wouldn't dare take this in front of the public.

"Shut up."

I kept my eyes only on Harper.

"Sue, is it? You want an answer, you want a title."

"Then let's get to the bottom of it, whose fetus you miscarried, and what actually happened last night."

I gave my phone a little shake.

"My lawyer has already called the police. They're on their way."

This time, I'll see it through to the end.

4: 4

Harper was still slumped in the bed, and the moment she heard the word "police," a flicker of panic crossed her face.

She stole a glance at Peter.

Peter looked at the shareholders, then at me, disapproval all over his face.

"Ms. Harrington, you can't do this. Blowing it up serves no one. It won't do the company any good at all!"

"The only way to salvage our reputation right now is to take responsibility!"

That, of course, was exactly what the shareholders feared most.

A few of them closed in around me. "Mary, don't be rash!"

"Your father did something like this. The law won't be on his side!"

"If he ends up in prison and the story spreads, the whole company is finished..."

In my last life, this was exactly the moment Harper seized.

Every shareholder leaned on our family, telling us to think of the company, to think of all the employees.

To think of the workers who'd lose their jobs over one family scandal.

The reasons sounded noble. Sparing everyone.

But in the end, the guilty took everything, and who was left to spare us?

The lawyer said the fastest the process could move was forty minutes. The island was too far out.

The crying inside the room never stopped.

Harper sniffled and sobbed, dropping her poison in broken pieces, each line more vicious than the last.

She said my father had started pursuing her last fall.

Said he'd rented her a place off campus, said every time they met he told her not to tell a soul.

Every sentence landed dead center on the trope: powerful man luring a poor girl.

The shareholders lost it.

"Clifford, you owe everyone an explanation today!"

"The company isn't yours alone. Your personal conduct blows up, and the stock hits its floor tomorrow!"

The others chimed in, each voice louder than the one before.

Someone had already pulled out a phone and was making a call, probably to the PR team.

Someone said flatly, "Take Clifford off the chairman's seat first, or there's no way to face the investors."

My father stood in the corner.

He kept repeating the same few words.

"I didn't touch her... I didn't touch..."

My mother came running back from the exam room.

She demanded my father give her an answer.

Harper's tears started falling again.

"Ma'am, you're getting older. The one who isn't loved is the real mistress..."

"He said your mind was unwell, said you couldn't keep him in line..."

My mother shook all over with rage, her tears striking the back of my hand.

In my last life, this was exactly how my father's "betrayal" pushed her to the breaking point.

Job's camera caught every face in the room.

He spoke into the lens. "You can see the situation here is extremely complicated. The victim is highly emotional, and the Harrington family has yet to give any clear response..."

I looked at Harper.

"Harper, you say you've been seeing my father for more than half a year."

"Then tell me. Which of his legs has a scar on it?"

Harper froze.

The words wouldn't come. Her lips parted, and the tears turned unnatural.

My father's head snapped up toward me.

He understood what I was doing. I was forcing her to slip.

My father had no scar at all.

Harper just cried harder.

"Mary, what's the point of asking this now?"

"I've already lost the baby in my belly... and you're still interrogating me like this..."

Peter jumped in.

"Ms. Harrington, Harper just miscarried. She's weak. Don't push her like this."

"After all, that would've been your little brother or sister..."

The shareholders stirred again. Someone shouted, "That's right, she's in this state and you're still interrogating her!"

"Cold-blooded!"

"No wonder Clifford went looking elsewhere. His own family has no heart. At a time like this, and they're still on about this!"

It was the same in my last life.

That feeling of being surrounded by everyone, of one word of defense being swallowed whole.

I answered.

"You can't say it, can you? Then it's my turn to talk."

Just then, my lawyer arrived with officers in uniform.

"Everyone, please stop the shouting. From this moment on, this proceeds under the protection of the law..."

The time had come.

I took my father's hand.

His palm was cold with sweat.

Harper was still crying. The shareholders were still arguing.

Every trap of this life, I'd laid ahead of time, waiting for them to jump in on their own.

I nodded to the lawyer and the others.

"I have something to say now."