Second Rebirth: Mom for Him, Rich Dad for Me

1
In my last life, I chose my mother. I did it for the ghost of a mother's love she might one day offerthe one who did nothing but complain about being broke and let life happen to her.
Later, she had a change of heart. She started with a small diner and clawed her way up to become a restaurant mogul.
My brother, who had begged to go live with our wealthy father, was broken by the crushing pressure of his new life. He jumped from a building and landed on me as I was passing by.
When I opened my eyes again, we were both reborn, back on the day our parents divorced.
My brother, Sam, clung to our mothers leg, putting on a performance worthy of an Oscar.
"Sis, you go with Dad. Go live the good life. I'm not afraid of tough times! I'm staying with Mom!"
He didn't know the only reason our mother turned her life around was because she'd seen me, riddled with stomach cancer, coughing up blood while still forcing myself to work.
So, this time, I don't want love.
I want money.
All I want is to close my eyes for the last time in the quiet comfort of a twenty-thousand-dollar custom mattress.
Even if that life means a stepbrother who supposedly hates my guts and a father who sees me as nothing more than a nuisance.
It doesnt matter. I dont have long to live anyway.
The rain was relentless on the day I was reborn.
"Oh, Maya, you be a good girl over there, you hear? And don't you ever forget that Mommy loves you more than anything."
My mother stood in the doorway of our dilapidated apartment, the paint peeling off the iron gate behind her. She looked at me with what was supposed to be deep affection, tears mixing with the rain on her cheeks.
Her words were all about how much she'd miss me, but her hand was clamped firmly on Sam's arm.
She held on as if she was afraid the sleek luxury car waiting at the end of the alley would snatch her precious son away.
Sam, nestled against her, shot a smug grin in my direction.
"Go on, sis. Your new life is waiting!"
That gloating look told me everything. He was reborn, too.
But I wasn't angry. I almost wanted to laugh.
The familiar, searing burn was rising in my stomach again. I knew I probably wouldn't make it to adulthood this time either.
But it didn't matter.
At least this time, I had a choice.
I turned and walked away, my sneakers splashing through the muddy puddles toward the alleys entrance.
A gleaming Maybach was parked there, its polished surface a stark contrast to the decaying neighborhood.
A boy stood beside it.
That was Caleb, my stepbrother, whom I'd never met.
He wore a windbreaker, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other impatiently tapping at his phone. He held an umbrella carelessly, not minding that one of his shoulders was already soaked.
When he looked up, his eyes scanned over me as if I were a bag of trash about to be tossed into his car.
"Finished with the performance?" he asked as I approached.
His voice was cold, but with an undercurrent of teenage rasp.
"Making my dad and me wait half an hour for your five-minute tearful goodbye. You must think you're pretty important."
I didn't bother explaining. I just tossed my moldy canvas bag into the trunk.
"Sorry."
My voice was hoarse, scorched by stomach acid.
Caleb raised an eyebrow, apparently surprised by my quick surrender.
He let out a short, humorless laugh, then opened the back door and slid in himself, making no move to help me.
I wasn't expecting any chivalry.
I'd heard about him in my last life. This kid had a notoriously bad temper and hated anyone invading his space.
I opened the door on the other side.
The heat inside the car was blasting, but a chill still clung to my bones.
My father sat in the passenger seat, his head bent over a file. He didn't even turn around.
"Now that she's in, let's go."
His tone was flat, devoid of any emotion.
"That's your brother now. This family doesn't tolerate freeloaders. You need to prove your worth if you want to have a place here."
I shrank into the corner, watching through the tinted window as my mother and brother continued their dramatic, tear-soaked farewell at the end of the alley.
What a show.
Too bad the audience had already left.
2
The car moved smoothly, but my stomach was a churning sea of pain.
It was a sharp, drilling ache that felt like it was boring into my very bones.
I gritted my teeth, digging my fingers into the soft flesh of my inner thigh, trying to drown out one pain with another.
Cold sweat trickled down my temples, dripping onto the leather seat.
A sharp click sounded beside me.
Caleb had his headphones on, idly flicking a lighter open and shut. But I could feel his eyes on me.
"Hey."
He pulled one earbud out, his voice low, probably so our father wouldn't hear.
"If you're going to puke, get out and do it. Don't mess up my car."
I didn't have the strength to speak. My hand trembled as I fished a small, unlabeled white bottle from my pocket.
I shook out two pills and swallowed them dry.
The bitterness as they scraped down my throat made me shudder.
Calebs fidgeting stopped.
He stared at the bottle, then at my paper-white face and my trembling fingers.
His expression hardened into one of sharp disgust.
"They even deal that crap in a dump like that?"
He leaned a little closer, and the clean, fresh scent of his cologne momentarily masked the musty smell clinging to my clothes.
"Maya," he said, his voice laced with contempt, "are you a junkie?"
I took a shaky breath. The medicine hadn't kicked in yet, and the pain was making my vision swim with black spots.
"Painkillers," I managed to whisper, my eyes closed.
"Hah."
He scoffed, clearly not believing a word.
He put his earbud back in and shifted away from me, as if trying to create a physical barrier between us.
"Now that you're living under our roof, you better clean up your act. If my mom finds out, I can't protect you."
He added, "Not that I'd want to."
I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the city's neon lights blur past.
A junkie?
Whatever.
I wasn't planning on living much longer anyway. It was safer to be seen as trash than as a cash cow.
By the time the car wound its way up into the hillside villa community, the agonizing knot in my stomach had finally begun to loosen.
I was finally home.
My stepmother, Lianne, was waiting at the door.
She wore a silk lounge set and looked impeccably maintained, a polite but distant smile on her face.
"You must be Maya. Your room is ready. It's the guest room on the second floor."
No warm welcome, no fake affection.
Good.
I picked up my bag and headed upstairs.
As I passed Caleb, he stuck his leg out, tripping me.
Weak as I was, my legs gave out, and my knee slammed hard onto the polished floor.
"Whoops. My bad."
Caleb looked down at me, his eyes filled with malicious glee.
"Tsk, tsk. Shaky on your feet? Must be a nasty habit."
Downstairs, my father was taking off his coat. He heard the noise and glanced up with a frown but said nothing.
Lianne's brow furrowed, but she only gave Caleb's sleeve a gentle tug.
"Caleb, stop it."
I pushed myself up from the floor. My knee throbbed, but I felt a strange sense of relief.
This was it.
This was right.
This was the life I wanted. Cold, hostile, and indifferent.
I didn't want anyone to bother me. I certainly didn't need anyone to care about me.
As long as they didn't love me, I could die peacefully in this multi-million-dollar coffin.
"It's fine."
I brushed the dust off my pants and offered Caleb a smile that held no warmth.
"I'll be counting on you to look after me from now on, brother."
Caleb seemed taken aback.
He studied me for a moment, then scoffed.
"I'm not your brother, so don't even try."
"And another thing. I don't like noise, and I don't like people touching my stuff. You better remember that."
He shoved past me and stormed up the stairs.
3
Dinner was an affair orchestrated by Lianne.
It was a long, formal dining table. My father, Grant, sat at the head, with Lianne to his left and Caleb to his right.
I was placed next to Caleb.
The table was set with exquisite china and food I'd never even seen before.
The aroma was tempting, but the smell of meat alone made my stomach clench.
"Eat. Don't be shy."
Grant sliced into his steak without looking up.
"You're part of this family now. I've enrolled you at St. Mary's Academy. You start tomorrow."
It was the best private school in the city.
In my last life, Sam had dreamed of getting in. My mother had sold our ancestral home to try and buy his way in, but they didn't accept new money.
"Thank you, Dad."
I picked up my knife and fork.
My hand was shaking so badly that the silver clattered against the plate.
Caleb shot me a cold glare.
His eyes lingered on my trembling wrist, a smirk playing on his lips.
Obviously, he was still convinced I was a user going through withdrawal.
I managed to cut a tiny piece of steak and put it in my mouth.
The prime cut, which should have been tender and juicy, tasted like a rancid dishcloth.
I choked it down, fighting back the nausea.
The moment it hit my stomach, an explosion of pain erupted.
Cold sweat drenched my back instantly.
I put down my cutlery and grabbed my glass of ice water, gulping it down in an attempt to quell the rising tide of acid.
"What's wrong? Don't you like it?"
Lianne's sharp eyes had noticed my distress.
I quickly shook my head, flustered by her attention.
"No, it's delicious."
I forced a smile, though my face probably looked paler than a corpse's.
"Just a little carsick, that's all."
"So delicate," Grant muttered, clearly displeased. "How do you expect to survive in this world if you're so weak?"
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, looking down.
He ignored me, turning his attention back to his wife and son, and the three of them were soon lost in conversation.
I only had two bites of that meal.
After dinner, I fled to my room.
I shut the door and locked it.
I ran to the bathroom and threw up the two mouthfuls of meat I'd forced down.
The vomit was streaked with red.
I collapsed onto the floor next to the toilet, my hands shaking as I pulled the bottle from my pocket.
I took out three pills.
That was my limit for the day. Any more would cause irreversible kidney damage.
Not that my kidneys were likely to last that long anyway.
I swallowed the pills and lay down on the twenty-thousand-dollar mattress.
It was so comfortable.
If only I could just fall asleep and never wake up.
4
When I came downstairs the next morning, Caleb was on the sofa, pulling on his shoes.
He paused when he saw me.
His eyes landed on the vitamin bottle in my hand, which I hadn't had a chance to put away. It was my disguise, filled with high-strength painkillers.
"Breakfast of champions?" he drawled, a smirk on his face. "Too many vitamins can be toxic, you know. Common sense."
I shoved the bottle into my pocket, ignoring him.
"Thanks for your concern, brother."
The driver took us to school.
Caleb clearly didn't want anyone to know we were related. He made me get out a block away from the school gates.
"Walk the rest of the way," he ordered, rolling down the window. "And don't tell anyone you know me. I have a reputation to maintain."
Fine by me.
The moment I stepped into the classroom, I could feel the hostility.
Dozens of pairs of eyes were fixed on me.
"So that's her? The illegitimate one?"
"I heard she's not just illegitimate, she grew up in the slums. A total delinquent."
"God, how did someone like her get in here..."
I walked to an empty seat at the back of the room and sat down.
So childish.
But I knew who was behind this.
Sam couldn't get into this school, but he had plenty of friends who could spread rumors for him. He wanted to ruin me.
I didn't care.
As long as they didn't bother me while I was trying to sleep, they could say whatever they wanted.
I rested my head on the desk. The pain was returning, a dull ache in my stomach as the medication wore off.
I fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake until someone shook me violently.
I opened my eyes to see my homeroom teacher, a snobbish middle-aged woman, glaring down at me.
"Maya! It's your first day and you're sleeping? What do you think this is?"
She pointed to a problem on the blackboard.
"Get up there and solve it."
I squinted at the board.
Calculus, all in English.
In my last life, I'd taught myself university-level math to tutor Sam. This was easy.
But I didn't move.
It hurt too much to stand.
"I can't," I said simply.
The class erupted in laughter.
"What a dummy."
"Waste of a spot."
The teacher's face turned red with anger. "If you can't do it, then get out and stand in the hall! Don't be an eyesore in my classroom!"
I slowly got to my feet, picked up my water bottle, and walked out.
The hallway was filled with sunlight.
It was nice. Warmer than the classroom.
I leaned against the wall, soaking up the sun like an old woman on her deathbed.

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