Reborn? Screw the Fake Lover—I'm Snagging My Arch-Rival! - Chapter 16: Chapter 16
You are reading Reborn? Screw the Fake Lover—I'm Snagging My Arch-Rival!, Chapter 16: Chapter 16. Read more chapters of Reborn? Screw the Fake Lover—I'm Snagging My Arch-Rival!.
Late at night, Ryder woke to urgent, labored breathing.
He pushed open Stella's bedroom door to find her thrashing violently in bed, forehead covered in cold sweat, lips trembling as she mumbled fragments: "No... Chase... car... blood..."
Ryder frowned and approached. Just as he was about to wake her, he heard her clearly cry out: "Ryder... don't look at me... like this... too ugly..."
His hand froze mid-air, pupils contracting sharply.
He had no memory corresponding to this, but the words were too specific—specific enough to sound like she was describing a real scene.
Even weirder—Stella's tone was like she'd actually seen him... collecting her body.
The next morning, Ryder sat in his study with thick investigation reports spread before him.
"Got it all," Nathan adjusted his glasses. "Miss Whitmore's behavior patterns these past six months are completely different from before. Strangest thing…" He pointed to a surveillance screenshot. "She suddenly withdrew all investments from Mr. Ravenwood the day before his fake death plan."
Ryder's eyes darkened: "Continue."
"And this," Nathan pulled out medical records. "Three months ago, Miss Whitmore had a 104-degree fever. First thing she did after waking up was send people to find you in Switzerland."
Ryder's knuckles drummed the desk faster and faster.
All evidence pointed to one absurd conclusion—
The current Stella seemed able to predict the future.
He closed the files: "Go check the background of that anonymous fund project under her name."
At the charity gala, Stella wore a flowing gown, her arm linked with Ryder's as they entered.
She keenly noticed he was unusually quiet tonight, fingertips occasionally tracing his wine glass rim unconsciously—his habit when deep in thought.
"What's wrong? Mr. Blackthorne seems troubled," she asked softly.
Ryder suddenly looked at her: "Remember our bet when we were ten?"
Stella answered without hesitation: "You lost and had to wear a dress to school. Mr. Blackthorne beat you so bad you couldn't get out of bed for three days." She smiled and added, "That silver ring I gave you was the stakes."
Ryder's eyes flickered, but then he asked: "Do you know why I really went abroad?"
"Because a year ago I said I never wanted to see you again, but actually you left because..." Stella's words cut off abruptly. She saw Ryder's eyes turn sharp as knives.
The air instantly crystallized.
"Stella," Ryder set down his wine glass, voice low enough for only her to hear, "I never told anyone the real reason I left." He stepped closer. "Who exactly are you?"
On the terrace, night wind carried flower scents.
Stella gripped the railing, feeling panicked for the first time since her rebirth.
Ryder stood in shadow, moonlight illuminating only half his profile, making him look particularly cold.
"What if I told you..." she took a deep breath, "I died once. Would you believe me?"
For the next twenty minutes, Stella laid out her past life's betrayals, pain, and death. When she got to the car accident, her voice began shaking uncontrollably: "Those four just stood across the street... watching me bleed to death..."
Ryder's expression shifted from shock to complexity.
When Stella mentioned him collecting her body, his knuckles went white from excessive force.
Silence stretched between them.
"So," Ryder suddenly spoke, voice cold as ice, "you chose me just out of guilt? Because you saw me collect your body? Then decided to compensate me?"
Stella's head snapped up: "No! I really…"
"Enough." Ryder cut her off. "I need to seriously think about our relationship."
He turned toward the door, back rigid: "For now... let's not see each other."
Stella stood alone on the terrace, nails digging deep into her palms.
She should have expected this outcome.
Someone as proud as Ryder—how could he accept feelings born from guilt?
Laughter drifted from inside, including Chase's smug voice: "Looks like Mr. Blackthorne and Miss Whitmore had a falling out..."
Stella wiped the moisture from her eyes and straightened her spine.
Just as she prepared to leave, her phone suddenly buzzed.
[Swiss bank account activated.]
[Your three mining operation shares have been transferred back.]
Then a text from an unknown number: [We're even.]
Stella stopped in her tracks.
What did that mean?
Money even—was cutting ties with her next?
He pushed open Stella's bedroom door to find her thrashing violently in bed, forehead covered in cold sweat, lips trembling as she mumbled fragments: "No... Chase... car... blood..."
Ryder frowned and approached. Just as he was about to wake her, he heard her clearly cry out: "Ryder... don't look at me... like this... too ugly..."
His hand froze mid-air, pupils contracting sharply.
He had no memory corresponding to this, but the words were too specific—specific enough to sound like she was describing a real scene.
Even weirder—Stella's tone was like she'd actually seen him... collecting her body.
The next morning, Ryder sat in his study with thick investigation reports spread before him.
"Got it all," Nathan adjusted his glasses. "Miss Whitmore's behavior patterns these past six months are completely different from before. Strangest thing…" He pointed to a surveillance screenshot. "She suddenly withdrew all investments from Mr. Ravenwood the day before his fake death plan."
Ryder's eyes darkened: "Continue."
"And this," Nathan pulled out medical records. "Three months ago, Miss Whitmore had a 104-degree fever. First thing she did after waking up was send people to find you in Switzerland."
Ryder's knuckles drummed the desk faster and faster.
All evidence pointed to one absurd conclusion—
The current Stella seemed able to predict the future.
He closed the files: "Go check the background of that anonymous fund project under her name."
At the charity gala, Stella wore a flowing gown, her arm linked with Ryder's as they entered.
She keenly noticed he was unusually quiet tonight, fingertips occasionally tracing his wine glass rim unconsciously—his habit when deep in thought.
"What's wrong? Mr. Blackthorne seems troubled," she asked softly.
Ryder suddenly looked at her: "Remember our bet when we were ten?"
Stella answered without hesitation: "You lost and had to wear a dress to school. Mr. Blackthorne beat you so bad you couldn't get out of bed for three days." She smiled and added, "That silver ring I gave you was the stakes."
Ryder's eyes flickered, but then he asked: "Do you know why I really went abroad?"
"Because a year ago I said I never wanted to see you again, but actually you left because..." Stella's words cut off abruptly. She saw Ryder's eyes turn sharp as knives.
The air instantly crystallized.
"Stella," Ryder set down his wine glass, voice low enough for only her to hear, "I never told anyone the real reason I left." He stepped closer. "Who exactly are you?"
On the terrace, night wind carried flower scents.
Stella gripped the railing, feeling panicked for the first time since her rebirth.
Ryder stood in shadow, moonlight illuminating only half his profile, making him look particularly cold.
"What if I told you..." she took a deep breath, "I died once. Would you believe me?"
For the next twenty minutes, Stella laid out her past life's betrayals, pain, and death. When she got to the car accident, her voice began shaking uncontrollably: "Those four just stood across the street... watching me bleed to death..."
Ryder's expression shifted from shock to complexity.
When Stella mentioned him collecting her body, his knuckles went white from excessive force.
Silence stretched between them.
"So," Ryder suddenly spoke, voice cold as ice, "you chose me just out of guilt? Because you saw me collect your body? Then decided to compensate me?"
Stella's head snapped up: "No! I really…"
"Enough." Ryder cut her off. "I need to seriously think about our relationship."
He turned toward the door, back rigid: "For now... let's not see each other."
Stella stood alone on the terrace, nails digging deep into her palms.
She should have expected this outcome.
Someone as proud as Ryder—how could he accept feelings born from guilt?
Laughter drifted from inside, including Chase's smug voice: "Looks like Mr. Blackthorne and Miss Whitmore had a falling out..."
Stella wiped the moisture from her eyes and straightened her spine.
Just as she prepared to leave, her phone suddenly buzzed.
[Swiss bank account activated.]
[Your three mining operation shares have been transferred back.]
Then a text from an unknown number: [We're even.]
Stella stopped in her tracks.
What did that mean?
Money even—was cutting ties with her next?
End of Reborn? Screw the Fake Lover—I'm Snagging My Arch-Rival! Chapter 16. Continue reading Chapter 17 or return to Reborn? Screw the Fake Lover—I'm Snagging My Arch-Rival! book page.