Rebirth: The Fake Heiress Strikes Back

In my past life, I was the fake heiress mistakenly raised by the Anderson family.

When the real heiress, Maisie Anderson, returned home, I let guilt consume me. I endured her bullying and even handed over my fiancé. In the end, I succumbed to a terminal illness, yet I still saved the Anderson family's company from the brink of bankruptcy.

And how did they repay me? They scattered my ashes like fertilizer for the flowers in their garden.

This time, I was reborn-and I was done playing nice. From now on, I only lived for myself!

1.

The day I died happened to be Maisie Anderson and Marc Gilbert's wedding day.

A picture-perfect couple, smiling faces all around.

When the housekeeper, Maria, reported my death, my so-called parents merely looked irritated, and Maisie couldn't stop laughing.

"We just planted a new flower bed in the backyard. Let's let Danica rest there," Maisie chirped with delight. "After all, she's just some stray nobody. She lived off my identity in the Anderson family for so many years-our parents were more than merciful to her."

And so, I watched as my ashes were scattered into the soil, mixed with fertilizer.

Rage consumed me. An all-encompassing, blinding fury.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized I'd been reborn.

2.

The Anderson family's villa garden stretched before me. People gathered all around, eyes brimming with thinly veiled schadenfreude.

I glanced down at my soaked dress-and it all came rushing back.

This was the night of the Anderson family's banquet, celebrating Maisie's return home. Her first official day as the real heiress. But in truth, she'd been tormenting me behind the scenes for quite some time.

At the banquet, I tried my best to fade into the background. Still, fate had other plans. We crossed paths near the pool. The next thing I knew, I was pushed in.

Back then, Maisie played the role of the concerned hero-pretending to rescue me while repeatedly holding me underwater. I barely survived.

Now, here I was, reborn at the very moment my desperate will to live had brought me back to the surface.

In my past life, I excused her cruelty. Out of guilt. Out of misplaced compassion.

I told myself Maisie acted this way because she'd grown up without love, and her personality was warped as a result.

But this life? This time, I won't let myself be a victim again.

"Danica, are you okay? It's all my fault for blocking your way," Maisie said, her voice trembling with faux concern. Her doe eyes shimmered, as if on the brink of tears-delicate and pitiful.

Immediately, someone stepped up to comfort her.

"Don't worry, Maisie. You're the real Anderson heiress. She's the one who can't accept her place and keeps trying to squeeze into your life."

Just like that, the narrative flipped.

Everyone around was just watching the drama unfold.

To them, I was the villain-the imposter trying to cling to a life that wasn't mine. No one would stand up for me. Why would they? Maisie was the legitimate Anderson daughter and also the adopted darling of the Ford family, once the richest family in the country.

I watched them spin their little tale, my expression icy.

"Danica, are you sure you're okay? Should we call for a doctor?" Maisie approached again, feigning concern, reaching out to take my hand.

"You're right. I do need some help." I said, a slow smile curling across my lips. Then, without warning, I shoved her straight into the flowerbed beside us.

2.

"Ahhhh!"

Maisie's scream pierced the air.

The surrounding crowd froze, their faces painted with shock. No one had expected me to retaliate, least of all Maisie. She landed face-first in the freshly fertilized flowerbed, the pungent scent immediately filling the air.

Two girls rushed to help her up, but the stench was so overwhelming that they visibly gagged as they reached for her.

When Maisie finally stood up, her dress was in shreds-torn by the rough branches and thorns-and her exposed skin bore red scratches all over. Her meticulously styled hair had turned into a tangled mess. This was supposed to be her night, her triumphant return, but now she was the evening's biggest joke.

Her face twisted with fury as she stomped toward me, her hand raised high, aiming for my cheek. "You filthy brat! How dare you-"

Before she could follow through, I grabbed her by the wrist, twisted it slightly, and slapped her twice, sharp and resounding.

"You reek," I said calmly, brushing my hands together. "Let me help you clean up."

Splaaash!

Maisie fell into the pool with an inelegant splash. Moments later, she surfaced, gasping and sputtering, her makeup streaming down her face like muddy paint. She looked less like the elegant daughter of a wealthy family and more like a ghost from a horror film.

The crowd stared in stunned silence.

Who would have expected me-the once meek and submissive fake heiress-to fight back like this?

Before anyone could react, a shadow darted past me. A man jumped into the pool, pulling Maisie out and wrapping her in a coat.

As soon as Maisie saw who it was, she reverted to her weak and pitiful demeanor, crying in the man's arms.

"Marc, you came... You finally came to save me," she choked out between sobs.

Marc Gilbert. My so-called fiancé. The man who was known far and wide for his gentle demeanor and soft-spoken kindness-a Mr. Nice Guy who made everyone feel special but meant it for no one.

In my previous life, Marc and I had spent two years together because of our engagement. We were a perfect match, or so I thought. We were even preparing for our wedding when Maisie returned.

"I'm the real heiress of the Anderson family," Maisie had declared. "If anyone should marry Marc, it's me."

And Marc? He didn't argue. He simply agreed.

Later, he came to me with a straight face and told me he had to honor his family's wishes.

All those romantic proposals, vows, and promises-he gave them all to Maisie. And what did he think would make it up to me? A platinum card loaded with a million dollars.

"This should compensate you," he said.

But I didn't need his ten million. I'd earned far more helping him solve the problems that fueled his success.

In the end, I shoved the card right back in his face and cut ties with him for good.

Looking at Marc's face again, I felt nothing but disgust.