In my past life, Chandler Finch’s parents died in an accident, and I begged my parents to adopt him.

After that, I followed him around, urging him to study and learn, teaching him how to start a business.

But just as he achieved success and was about to marry me, I caught him with the impoverished student I had sponsored, entangled in my own bridal suite.

Furious, I confronted them.

But instead of remorse, Chandler shoved me hard—my head slammed into the corner of a table.

He looked at me with disdain and sneered, “What do you mean you helped me? Everything I have, I earned myself.”

“Monica, let me be honest—I’ve hated you for a long time. You nagged me about everything, like some annoying old hag.”

I closed my eyes in hatred, bleeding to death.

When I opened them again, I was back at Chandler’s parents’ funeral.

But instead of collapsing in grief like he had in my past life, Chandler was staring at his parents’ portraits—laughing.

His mad laughter echoed through the hall.

The mournful music stopped. Silence fell. Everyone stared in horror as Chandler doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“Hahaha! I, Chandler Finch, was never meant to die! Heaven has given me a second chance—this time, I’ll rise to the top!”

His whispered words reached everyone’s ears.

But they all assumed he was delirious from shock.

Only I knew the truth—Chandler had been reborn, just like me.

In my past life, Chandler’s parents had been my family’s maid and chauffeur.

That day, I’d forgotten my exam papers and asked Chandler’s father to bring them to me.

But his mother, greedy for a taste of luxury, insisted on hitching a ride to go grocery shopping.

On their way back after delivering my papers, their car was crushed by a flipped truck.

They died on the spot.

Logically, my family wasn’t to blame—the maid had no business riding in my parents’ car, bought specifically for my commute.

But at the funeral, seeing Chandler kneeling on the ground, hollow-eyed and trembling, I softened.

Back then, still in high school, he collapsed before me, begging my parents not to abandon him, to let him finish school.

I’d always gotten along with Chandler, and my heart ached for him.

Plus, his parents had died while running an errand for me.

So I pleaded with my parents to adopt him.

After that, I drilled him relentlessly, pouring everything into improving his grades and skills, ensuring he’d have a future.

Yet, once he succeeded and proposed to me, I found him in bed with the girl I’d sponsored—both of them mocking me.

“Monica is so dull compared to you. The only reason I ever paid attention to her was her family’s money.”

“Hush, don’t ruin the mood. Marrying her is just a stepping stone—once her family funds my company’s IPO, I’ll dump her and bring you back.”

“You’re such a wild little minx. That’s why I adore you.”

Their filthy words filled my ears.

Blind with rage, I charged in—only for Chandler to push me down.

As I lay dying, I mustered my last strength to stab him with a fruit knife.

Now, standing in the funeral hall, watching Chandler laugh like a madman, my eyes turned icy.

Chandler Finch, let’s see how far you get this time—without me.

My gaze was icy as I watched Chandler laughing maniacally in front of the funeral altar.

Chandler, let’s see how you’ll reach the top in this life—without me.

I grabbed my mother’s arm just as she was about to step out of the car.

Before coming here, I had already convinced my parents to adopt Chandler today.

Mom looked at me in confusion.

"Mom, I don’t want you to adopt Chandler anymore," I said coldly.

My parents exchanged glances, their eyes filled with doubt.

But I couldn’t possibly tell them about my rebirth.

So I hugged Mom’s arm and pouted, "I just don’t like Chandler anymore. He’s arrogant and full of himself. I refuse to let him be my brother!"

I shook her arm playfully, and soon, their hesitation faded.

They had watched Chandler grow up, and they knew he was prideful.

With that, they stayed in the car.

Just as we were about to leave, a loud argument erupted from the crowd.

"I’m his uncle, but you’re his aunt! Why should I be the one to take him in?"

"I’m a woman! I already have two kids at home, and my son is about to take his college entrance exams. How can I possibly take care of him?"

"Oh, so you can’t handle it, but I can? Who here doesn’t have kids? Besides, his father helped you out plenty when he was alive—have you no shame?"

"How dare you! When did I ever take his money? After their deaths, I was the one who arranged this funeral! I’ve done more than enough!"

Curious, I leaned toward the window and saw Chandler standing in the middle of the crowd, head bowed, humiliation written all over his face.

The argument was hard to hear clearly from inside the car, so I stepped out to get a better look.

But the moment I appeared, Chandler’s head snapped up.

He glared at me with undisguised disdain.

"Stop arguing! None of you are worthy of taking me in," he sneered.

"You think I want to live with any of you? Let me make this clear—even without you, I, Chandler Finch, will thrive!"

"Oh, and one more thing—I’ll become a tycoon in the future. Mark my words."

The crowd stared at him in pity, assuming grief had driven him mad.

But Chandler ignored them.

He shoved through the crowd and marched straight toward me—then tried to climb into our car.

I blocked him.

"What are you doing? Took you long enough," he snapped, as if I were some servant.

I smiled sweetly. "Who are you? And why do you think you can just waltz into my family’s car?"

Chandler froze, then quickly recovered.

"Didn’t you always beg me to be your brother?" he scoffed. "Sure, you’re not pretty, and your grades are mediocre, but I suppose you’ll do."

He softened his tone, as if placating a child. "Fine, I shouldn’t have refused to let you copy my homework yesterday. I’ll let you cheat off me later, okay?"

Again, he tried to enter the car.

Again, I stopped him.

Twice rejected, Chandler’s face darkened with anger.

But this time, I didn’t rush to soothe him.

Crossing my arms, I said coldly, "Who do you think you are? Why should my family adopt you?"

Chandler stiffened as if struck.

Before he could respond, my parents stepped out of the car.

"Chandler, we’re sorry for your loss, but you can’t just impose on us," Dad said firmly.

"The traffic police have confirmed it was your father's fault for the accident. Our car was completely wrecked, yet we haven't even demanded compensation from you."

"But since our Monica has a kind heart, and considering you grew up together, we'll let this slide. Though let's be clear—a toad will always be a toad. Don't delude yourself into thinking you can turn into a swan."

Chandler turned deathly pale at my parents' words.

He stared at me in disbelief, but I had already opened the car door and slipped inside.

When my parents mentioned that Chandler might come with debts, his relatives became even more reluctant to take him in.

In the end, it was a distant aunt—who half-believed his grandiose claims of future wealth—who grudgingly agreed to take him.

The day after the funeral, Chandler showed up at school.

He had swapped his secondhand clothes for a brand-new uniform.

Spotting me, he strode over with his chin held high.

"Some people will resort to anything just to get my attention. Monica, did you really think I couldn’t survive without you?"

"See this uniform? My aunt bought it for me. You know what I realized after leaving your house? Your family treated us like slaves!"

"My parents worked for you for years—and even died because of you! Yet the wages your family paid were so measly I couldn’t even afford a new uniform. And when they died, you didn’t compensate us a single cent!"

The surrounding classmates erupted in shock.

It was no secret that Chandler’s parents had worked for my family. Just days ago, when the accident happened, our class had even held a fundraiser for him.

"Wait, isn’t Monica’s family super rich? She rides a luxury car to school every day, and her shoes are designer!"

"Chandler’s got it so rough. His parents slaved away for Monica’s family, and he couldn’t even afford proper clothes? And no compensation for their deaths? That’s disgusting!"

"How can Monica flaunt her wealth like this? She’s practically feasting on their suffering!"

Their harsh words stabbed at me like needles.

I looked up and saw Chandler smirking triumphantly.

But the truth was, his parents had worked for my family for nearly a decade—and my parents had always paid them the highest market wages. There was no exploitation whatsoever.

As for the accident? That was entirely their own fault.

And the reason Chandler couldn’t afford a new uniform? Because his own parents had never thought him worthy of one.

With a cold snort, I raised my phone and played a video—footage from the car’s dashcam on the day of the accident.

On the screen, Chandler’s mother ran her fingers greedily over the car’s interior.

"Wow, this luxury car really is something! Look at all these decorations—they must’ve cost a fortune!"

"Of course they did. That spoiled brat Monica wasted her family’s money on this useless junk. They should’ve given us a raise instead!"

"There’s so much here. Do you think she’d notice if we pocketed a couple of these? Is this figurine made of gold?"

"Definitely not. And this brand looks expensive—we could pawn it for some quick cash."

Completely absorbed in their theft, they neglected to watch the road—until a deafening crash.

The car smashed into the guardrail, triggering a chain collision involving over a dozen vehicles.

Chandler’s parents died on impact.

Watching his own parents lose their lives over petty theft, Chandler’s face twisted in horror.