I must’ve been the biggest idiot alive—killed by someone like my so-called best friend.
‘But now that I’ve got a second chance, I’m taking everything she owes me back!’
When Vicky walked out of the bathroom, I casually said, “Looks like the whole ‘clueless beauty’ thing is super popular these days. CEOs really do fall for that type.”
She paused mid-hair-dry, eyes flickering, her tongue not saying anything.
But I knew she was gonna take the bait.
‘Now, let’s see how far you’ll go to screw yourself over. I’m honestly excited!’
The next morning, she dragged me to The Shops at The Braven.
She was never shy about spending on herself—especially when it’s my money.
“Vicky?” A tall, well-dressed man walked toward us just as we entered a high-end store. “What a coincidence!”
“Oh, hey, Mr. Blount!” Her annoyed face instantly melted into a delighted smile. “Fancy seeing you here too!”
“There’s a partner company nearby I’m visiting. My assistant went to grab coffee. Would you ladies like one?”
The guy looked classy, polite, and genuinely charming. No wonder Vicky was obsessed with him.
“Oh, I won’t say no!” Vicky replied delightfully.
Her boss then turned to look at me, and I could see he was surprised. There was a flash of interest in his eyes. “Oh! Hi! You’re…?”
Vicky immediately stepped in front of me.
“This is my bestie, Shea Brockenbrough. She’s super shy around strangers, Mr. Blount. Don’t mind her.”
I played along, ducking behind her. The last thing I needed was to get tangled up with some CEO.
“Sir Curtis. Your coffee.” His assistant returned. Curtis then handed the cups of coffee to Vicky with a warm smile.
She blushed, took it with both hands like a schoolgirl, and then waited. When her prince charming was out of sight, she tossed the other cup in the trash.
“You don’t really like coffee, right, bestie?” she asked with fake sweetness in her voice.
I just ignored her and found a place to sit.
She didn’t even care. She just went straight into the fitting room to try on clothes.
Just then, I checked my phone and smirked at the message.
[ALERT: Your card ending in 6823 has been temporarily frozen due to unusual activity. Please contact Riverstone Bank at 1-800-555-2471 or check your mobile app for details.]
‘Now what’s she gonna use to pay?’
“Ma’am, your card’s been declined. Do you have another one?”
Vicky was lounging on the couch, waiting for the sales clerk to ring her up, when she suddenly sat bolt upright.
“What? That’s impossible! Your machine must be broken! Try again!”
“I’m sorry, but your card’s really not working.”
I sat comfortably in the lounge area, watching through the glass as Vicky’s face turned red then pale.
‘Wow. It’s not every day I see someone so entitled while using someone else’s money.’
Soon, my phone rang.
The second I picked it up, she barked, “Shea! What’s up with your card? Why can’t I use it?”
“Oops, sorry. Just saw a message from my editor—turns out someone plagiarized my book, and they’re investigating both sides. My royalties got frozen for now, so—”
“Then give me your credit card!” that bitch shamelessly demanded.
“I don’t have one.”
In the end, she still bought the four outfits she’d picked out—but not without maxing out five of her credit cards.
On the way out, her face looked like she’d swallowed poison.
She shot daggers at me with her eyes. But I acted like I didn’t see it.
I just kept scrolling through my phone… until a Facebook notification popped up on the screen.
Someone sent me a friend request.
The second she caught a glimpse, Vicky’s whole face flushed red.
Before I could react, she snatched the phone right out of my hand and slammed it to the floor.
And then—like someone possessed—she shoved me hard, grabbed my collar, and yanked me down with her!
“Shea! Why the hell did Curtis add you?! Were you trying to seduce him?!”
My god. Her eyes were bloodshot, her voice low and enraged.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snapped, yanking her hands off me.
She chased after me like a rabid dog, demanding an explanation. “Answer me! Why did he add you?!”
I was gonna ignore her, but then I paused. Knowing her temper, I figured I’d throw her a bone.
“Oh, it might be because his company wanted to buy the copyrights to my book. But I already signed with another publisher, and they’re trying to convince me to switch.”
“Why didn’t you just say that earlier? I almost misunderstood,” she huffed, smoothing her skirt. “I knew it. There’s no way Curtis would be interested in someone like you.”
Right. She always looked down on me.
Back in college, she was the arts committee rep and ran the school’s PR team while I was just the girl with decent grades and nothing else going for me.
Guess she kept me around as her “best friend” just so I could be the foil that made her shine brighter.
I didn’t bother responding to her mockery. I just picked up my smashed phone and walked away.
“Tch. She just writes some trashy book and thinks she’s hot shit. What a freak?!”
She didn’t even try to lower her voice—it was loud enough for me to hear clearly.
In my last life, I would’ve brushed it off as her just being upset.
But now I know better. ‘Dang, my “best friend” has always been this toxic.’
Two days later, I got a contract in the mail from Atlas Publishing.
That night, Vicky knocked on my door.
“Shea, don’t sell your book rights to Atlas. Sell them to our company instead. I know we can’t offer as much, but hey—we’re besties, right? You’ll help me out, won’t you?”
Just like that, she picked up the contract off the table and casually tossed it in the trash.
‘Damn,’ I thought, ‘this bitch’s so sure I’d say yes.’
“Vicky, I already promised them. I can’t help you on this one.”
I looked apologetic, lowered my head to hide the annoyance in my eyes, and pulled the contract out of the bin.
“Don’t forget—Curtis’s got his eye on me. Once I become the CEO’s wife, you’ll be lucky if I let you drink the leftover soup. Come on, don’t be stupid!”
“Sorry, Vicky. I really can’t break the contract.”
She opened her mouth to blow up again until she suddenly seemed to remember something that made her force herself to calm down.
“Forget it. I’m going to bed. Go take your shower.”
I smirked to myself, nodded, and took my pajamas to the bathroom.
After my shower, she was gone.
So was the contract.
Then, I saw her message.
[Had to leave early. Don’t worry—I sent the contract out for you.]
“She really is that desperate. Yikes.”
I copied the home security footage, pulled out the real Atlas Publishing contract from my drawer, signed it, and mailed it myself.
The next morning, I got a call from an old college roommate.
“Hey, Shea, did Vicky hit the jackpot or something? I mean, her Facebook is full of designer stuff lately. Did she snag a rich boyfriend?”
I blinked in a little surprise. I opened Facebook to see what she was talking about.
‘Oh. Vicky’s feed looks like a luxury catalog, indeed. She’s probably doing it to get Curtis’s attention.’
“Uhm, I don’t really know. She hasn’t said anything to me.”
“Hey… That men’s suit she posted… Don’t you think—”
After the call, I scrolled back to a photo Vicky had posted two days ago.
It was a man’s suit jacket—stained with coffee.
Normally with high-end suits like that one in her post, one stain and it’s basically done for.
‘Looks like without me around to stop her in this life, she still went ahead and pulled the same stunt… Only, I’m guessing it didn’t go quite as smoothly this time.’
After all, she didn’t look too happy yesterday when she came begging me to sign that contract.
‘Now, I’m really curious. How is Vicky planning to pay for this 40,000 bucks suit?’
A week later, Atlas Publishing made their official announcement on their socials about the novel going into production. They tagged me—the original author.
Ten minutes later, I got a call from Vicky.
“Shea! Didn’t you already sell the rights to our company? How come you sold them to Atlas, too? Our contract is exclusive!”
She didn’t even let me get a word in—just launched straight into it like a machine gun as soon as I picked up the phone.
“When did I ever sell you the rights?” I asked back.
“Shea, come on. Don’t be greedy. I even double-checked everything with you before signing. Your name’s clearly on that contract—you signed it yourself. I can’t help you this time.”
Just like that, she hung up right away.
She was so damn confident that it almost made me laugh. ‘If I hadn’t installed a hidden camera, I might’ve really taken the fall for this shit.’
Half an hour later, Blount & Bluebell Press—the company where Vicky worked as an assistant—released a statement, saying the rights to my novel were incomplete, and that they were planning to pursue legal action and demand compensation.
Same book. Same author. Two companies, both big names in the film adaptation business.
Of course, as soon as the announcement dropped, it blew up online.
‘People aren’t messing around these days when it comes to intellectual property. Double-selling a book’s rights? The internet will go crazy about it.’
Sure enough, my account in X got flooded with hate in seconds.
At the same time, Vicky made a cryptic post.
[Everyone has to pay for their own greed.]
She even really tagged both my pen name and my book title.
Of course, the internet did its thing and quickly connected the dots—turns out she wasn’t just my best friend but also an employee of Blount & Bluebell Press.
Things exploded even more after that, and the hate comments just kept rolling in.
Atlas’s rep messaged me, totally freaking out, asking what was going on.
I stayed calm and told him straight: [I only sold the rights to Atlas Publishing. You’re the only ones who paid me.]
Atlas Publishing’s an old, established company, so they caught on quickly.
Their legal team got involved immediately and told me they’d handle the matter ASAP.
At the same time, that same intern who ended up being Curtis’s wife in my last life had just joined their company.
Even without the coffee stunt this time, she still got promoted to the CEO assistant a week in. I bet Vicky was livid.
But with the whole copyright mess, she didn’t even have the guts to go complain to Curtis.
Instead, she started targeting Brooke—the intern.
But Curtis kept defending her, and Vicky’s hatred just grew.
One day during lunch break, Vicky actually hid Brooke's stockings in Curtis’s drawer—and then played the victim, accusing the intern of trying to seduce the CEO.
Their office was in total chaos that day, leading to the intern getting fired on the spot for “trying to seduce the CEO.”
And all of that came straight from the private investigator I hired when I was reborn—to keep an eye on Vicky.
This whole cyber bullying she staged was just a bonus discovery.
But honestly, I didn’t have the energy to care anymore. The online hate was getting worse, my DMs full of the nastiest insults.
Once I gathered the final piece of evidence, I made a call.
“Helga, I need to sue someone.”
“Got it. Send me everything.”
