Reborn I Refuse to Take the Fall for My Campus Queen Ex

Natalie posted an update to her feed. *Since I caused your pain, I will spend my life making amends.* Attached was a photo of her tending to Carter Walker at his hospital bedside. She had clearly staged the shot. "No-makeup" makeup. A form-fitting white dress designed to look innocent yet alluring. Her delicate features glowed more dazzling than a carefully arranged bouquet. In such a short time, she had not only persuaded Carter not to press charges but had also maneuvered herself into the role of his personal caretaker. I chuckled darkly. Carter Walker wasn't known for his benevolence. He was a shark. I was genuinely curious to see if she could achieve her delusional "rich wife" dreams now that she had kicked away her stepping stone—me. A week later, negotiations with the investor concluded smoothly. The project was greenlit. "Evan, I'm very optimistic about this," the investor said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "The board has decided to inject another ten million in funding. No additional conditions." My pulse quickened. Ten million. Just as I opened my mouth to thank him, my phone began to ring. I declined the call. It rang again immediately. And a third time. I moved to power it off, but the investor waved his hand. "Answer it. It might be urgent." Apologizing profusely, I stepped out of the hotel conference room and swiped answer. "Evan Dickerson, did you pull strings behind my back?" Natalie's voice was a shrill shriek. "Why didn't Director Wang cast me? Even after we broke up, you're haunting me like a ghost! Are you trying to sabotage me?" I leaned against the corridor wall. A mocking smile surfaced. "You have no professional training, no connections, and zero acting experience. On what grounds would Director Wang cast you?" I asked coolly. "Did you really think your talent got you that role in the last life? It was because I paid him five million to let you buy your way in." In the previous life, that low-budget drama had exploded in popularity, yet I hadn't seen a dime of return. Director Wang had despised Natalie's acting. I had tried to frame the five million as an investment, but he refused. In the end, I changed the terms: the five million was simply her "entry fee." The drama's profits would have nothing to do with me. Only then did he reluctantly agree, fulfilling Natalie's stardom dream. I knew it was a sunk cost. Money could be earned again, but I had wanted to give her a future before I went to prison. To keep her from overthinking it, I had buried the truth deep in my heart for eight years. Silence stretched on the line. "Just five million?" Natalie finally scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. "Do you think I can't afford that? Evan, without you dragging me down, I'll live a better life than you ever could!" She hung up. I returned to the meeting, finalized the details, and headed home. The moment I stepped into my apartment, the cloying scent of sweet perfume hit me. Natalie's signature scent. Frowning, I strode to the desk. The drawer hung open. I stared into the empty space. In our past life, I had promised Natalie two gold accessories every month. But my financial burden was heavy. To save money, I bought her real gold—but for myself, I bought high-quality fakes to keep up appearances. The drawer had been full of that fake gold. She claimed she didn't want my "bad karma" affecting her, yet she had broken into my home to loot me. The drawer was wiped clean. She hadn't left a single link. The last shred of sentiment I held for her evaporated.

It was laughable. I wondered what expression she would make when she discovered her "fortune" was worthless brass. That night, a heavy fist pounded against my door. The frame shook with the force of the blows. "Evan Dickerson! You dared to play me?" The noise was deafening. Not wanting the neighbors to call the police, I yanked the door open. Natalie lunged at me, grabbing my shirt. "You knew the gold was fake! Why didn't you tell me? Do you have any idea how humiliated I was at the pawnshop?" I looked at her with icy indifference. "You broke into my home to steal, and you think you have the moral high ground?" She stared at me in disbelief. Then she shoved me, her manicured nails digging into my chest. "I was with you for two years! Those things should have been mine anyway!" she screeched. "The market price is 480,000. Pay me back! Not a penny less!" She was strong in her fury. Her nails tore through the fabric of my shirt, raking across skin. A sharp sting bloomed across my chest. I looked down at her hand. Mockery danced in my eyes. That manicure cost 1,999—half a month of my living expenses at the time. She had demanded it, and I had transferred the money without hesitation. Over two years, I had spent at least 100,000 on her. My life had been an endless loop of work and sleep, saving every cent, only to have her act like this. Even knowing her true nature, the reality of her greed still turned my stomach. "Aren't you trying to latch onto a rich heir?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why not let Carter spend money on you? Or does he not think you're worth the price?" Her breath hitched. She raised her hand and slapped me across the face. *Smack.* My head snapped to the side. My cheek burned. When she raised her hand to strike again, I caught her wrist mid-air and delivered a sharp backhand across her face. "Enough!" I roared. "Natalie, get out. Don't make me throw you out." The force sent her stumbling. She fell, her ankle twisting beneath her with a cry of pain. She clutched her face, panic flashing in her eyes—quickly replaced by venomous hatred. "You hit me?" she hissed. "Evan, I will make you regret this. Just you wait!" Hearing the threat, I laughed. A cold, jagged sound. I ran my tongue over the inside of my cheek. Copper. "Fine. I'll wait." I slammed the door in her face. The wood barely missed her nose. Days later, I formally signed the agreement with the angel investor. I threw myself into the project. By day, I managed development, oversaw testing, and negotiated with suppliers. When exhaustion took over, I slept at my desk, waking only to refine the business plan. On my screen, the project advanced, milestone by milestone. My life was simple, disciplined, and incredibly fulfilling. In the previous life, at this very moment, I would have been confessing to a crime I didn't commit. The next eight years would have been a black void, with Natalie as the only spot of color in my mind. Her joys and sorrows had been my entire world. I had never realized my life could be this... free. The next time Natalie crossed my radar was when the web drama *Chasing Green* officially announced its cast. The production crew had bought a spot on the trending search list to generate hype. Curious, I clicked the link. **Female Lead: Natalie Fox.** Her name was bolded at the top of the list. She hadn't just joined the crew. She had secured the lead role. As I stared at the screen, my phone began to ring.

Natalie Fox's voice dripped with smugness. "See? It proves that even without your pocket change, I can still land a production." "Once this drama airs, I'll blow up. I'll break into the mainstream, my path to stardom will be paved with gold, and I'll have endless glory." "When you're so broke you can't even afford a meal, feel free to come crawl back. Kneel and beg. For every kowtow, I'll toss you a hundred bucks." I didn't bother responding. Just hung up. Despite the mockery in her tone, something else bled through—a tremor of exhaustion. A cold sneer curled my lips. Three days ago, a traffic violation notice had landed in my inbox. The car was an anniversary gift I'd given Natalie, though it was still registered under my name. In the violation photo, the corner of her mouth was bruised a deep purple, and dark bags hung heavy under her eyes. Even the grainy, low-resolution image couldn't hide how haggard she looked. My fingers moved on their own, pulling up the cloud feed from the dashcam. For the past week, Natalie had been fooling around with Carter Walker. On the mountain. In the fields. In the park. If the front camera could capture it, I saw it. In one clip, Carter grabbed her by the throat, squeezing until her face turned crimson, releasing her only at the last possible second. "You spent twenty million of my money." His voice was deceptively light. "If this drama doesn't take off, I'll make you wish you were dead." He smiled as he said it, revealing two rows of perfect white teeth. Sunny. Charming. But his words were laced with arsenic. Natalie's face flushed a liver-colored purple. She gasped for air, struggling to force a smile onto her terrified features. "Of course not. This drama will definitely be a huge hit." Unexpectedly, Carter—who had been grinning a second before—spun around and backhanded her across the face. "Did I give you permission to speak?" *Bang. Bang. Bang.* Dozens of slaps landed in rapid succession. Her face swelled until it was unrecognizable. She didn't dare fight back. Just sat there, forcing that grotesque smile to remain in place. ... I watched scenes like this play out several times. None of it surprised me. In my previous life, during my time in prison, I learned exactly what kind of monster Carter Walker was. He wasn't someone to be trifled with. His appetites were depraved; he treated young, beautiful girls like disposable toys. The worst incident involved a junior from university whom he abused into a vegetative state. He had to pay out five million dollars just to bury the scandal. But on the surface? The cheerful, handsome heir. A master of disguise. I heard that later, another internet celebrity tried to follow in Natalie's footsteps. Thought she could handle Carter. She was beautiful—though not quite on Natalie's level—and she managed to become his official girlfriend. The year I was released, that influencer married into a wealthy family. Became a respectable socialite. Natalie never got over that. Even on her deathbed, she believed her failure was simply bad luck—that she had missed out on snagging a rich heir. She blamed me for everything. She never noticed that the light in that other girl's eyes had been extinguished long ago. That girl wore high-collared clothes year-round to hide the scars, and her obedience was less like a wife and more like a beaten dog. I just chuckled and pushed the thought of Natalie Fox from my mind. Half a year later, my project exploded. My capital tripled. I moved into a spacious penthouse. The investors were thrilled, injecting another twenty million into my fund. Just as my future was reaching its zenith, Natalie called. Her voice trembled with manic excitement. "I'm about to be famous!" "If you weren't so useless, only able to give me a measly five million, I wouldn't have been stuck as the third female lead before! But this time? I'm the star. The spotlight will chase me, the buzz will launch me into the sky. I'll be so famous you'll need a telescope just to look up at me!" She ranted in a single, breathless stream. I pretended I hadn't heard a word. Quietly, I opened my phone and refreshed the trending search page. In my previous life, this was the exact moment the drama became a massive hit. But in the original timeline, the one who broke out wasn't the lead couple—it was the minor supporting role played by Natalie. The main characters were written as standard, cookie-cutter templates. Perfect. Boring. Forgettable. Natalie's character—the vicious villainess—was beautiful, strong, and tragic. Magnetic. Combined with her visually stunning face, she went viral through fan edits and short clips. She seemed to think that if she took the lead role, she would be even more popular. But the entertainment industry is cruel. It never lacks pretty faces; it lacks souls. A role only works if it resonates. Twenty minutes passed. The clock struck midnight. A brand new day. Natalie couldn't wait. She had likely already paid marketing accounts to flood the internet with beauty edits of herself. Her tone was thick with arrogance. "As long as the camera captures my face, the audience will be obsessed. Just watch—within minutes, my name will dominate the trends. Topic after topic praising my beauty. Directors will be begging at my door, and brands will be lining up!" The marketing campaign was indeed overwhelming. Finally, the trending list moved. Two entries began to climb the rankings. I glanced at the screen. #1: *Natalie Fox, Narcissist.* #2: *'Chasing Green' is trash—who is actually watching this?* I tapped into her Weibo. The comment section was a war zone. I couldn't help it. I laughed out loud. "So," I said into the phone, "this is the huge hit you were talking about?" Silence stretched on the other end. Then—a series of loud crashes. Shattering glass. Her shrill screaming.