Reborn From The Lake: My Stoic Savior

Julieta forced her spine straight. She desperately tried to claw back her sense of superiority. She let out a loud, forced laugh.

She sneered, telling Bridget that getting some stupid letters back wouldn't change the fact that she was bottom-feeding trash.

Julieta's voice grew louder, frantic. She bragged that Kurtis came from old money on the East Coast. That his family owned half of New York.

She pointed a manicured finger at Bridget's frayed coat. She spat that the shoes on Kurtis's feet cost more than Bridget's family made in a year.

Hearing Julieta deploy wealth as a weapon-the only currency they understood-Tanya grasped at it like a lifeline. She didn't dare look directly at Bridget, but she and Gretel puffed up their chests. They smirked, their sudden burst of courage entirely hollow, hiding behind the shield of someone else's money.

Bridget stood perfectly still. She didn't flush with anger. She looked at them with the mild fascination of someone watching monkeys throw feces at a zoo.

When Julieta finally ran out of breath, Bridget tilted her head. She let out a soft, pitying sigh.

Her brain instantly pulled up the economic data and social structures of the 1970s East Coast elite.

She took a half-step forward. Her voice was ice-cold and surgical as she began to dismantle the illusion.

Bridget stated clearly that if Kurtis were actually an heir to a New York syndicate, he wouldn't be sweating in a dirt camp for free college credits.

She brutally explained how real wealth worked. Old money families didn't do manual labor; they bought library wings to secure legacy admissions.

Julieta's smug smile froze. The confidence in her eyes began to fracture.

Bridget didn't stop. She brought up the watch Kurtis wore on his left wrist. The one he claimed was a custom Swiss piece.

Bridget named the exact brand. She stated she had just seen that identical watch in a department store window downtown, priced at under fifty dollars, noting it was a mass-produced piece of garbage popular as a cheap high school graduation gift.

Tanya gasped. She whipped her head around to look at Julieta, her eyes silently asking if the local girl was telling the truth.

Julieta avoided Tanya's gaze. She screamed at Bridget to shut her mouth, her voice shrill and panicked.

Bridget stepped closer, invading Julieta's space. She stripped away the final layer of the lie. She called Kurtis a vain, pathetic clown wearing a costume to impress small-town girls.

She looked deep into Julieta's eyes. She whispered that Julieta already knew he was a fake.

Bridget exposed the ugly truth: Julieta only played along with Kurtis's lie because it made her feel like a queen in a town full of peasants.

The truth hit Julieta like a bullet. All the blood drained from her face. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably.

An image flashed in Bridget's mind. The original Bridget crying in the dirt while Kurtis stood by and watched, doing nothing.

A wave of intense, visceral disgust washed over Bridget. Not just for these stupid girls, but for the coward who enabled them.

Bridget's eyes hardened into flint. She was done playing with them.

She lunged forward. Her hand shot out and clamped onto the strap of Julieta's leather purse.

Julieta screamed. She yanked back, trying to keep the bag. But the adrenaline in Bridget's recovering body gave her a terrifying burst of strength.

Bridget ripped the bag downward. The cheap zipper busted open with a loud tearing sound. The contents spilled everywhere.

Lipsticks, a compact mirror, and a stack of pink envelopes hit the dusty floorboards.

Bridget ignored the expensive makeup. She dropped to a crouch and snatched up the letters with lightning speed.

She flipped through them, her thumb counting the edges. The number didn't match the memory. There were missing letters.

She shoved the stack into her coat pocket. She stood up slowly, towering over Julieta, who had collapsed onto the floor in shock.