Reborn I Exposed My Stepsister’s Lies

Laylani nodded. "Yeah, got it."

She stood there with her chin tilted up just a bit, her gaze steady and curious, like she could see straight through him. Elio Bradley's fingers curled slightly, and he found himself crunching down on the mint in his mouth without even thinking. He'd never had her look at him that way before—no admiration, no fear, just a calm, serious stare.

Elio covered his mouth and coughed, barely holding back a smirk. "Well, since you're so perceptive…" he started, trying to play it cool. "If anyone gives you trouble, just drop my name."

The second it came out, he knew it sounded lame. His expression faltered, and he spun on his heel, heading off the field, his steps quicker than before. "Catch you later," he tossed over his shoulder, his retreating figure all swagger and a little over-the-top.

Laylani watched him go, catching the bright red tips of his ears, and smiled knowingly. Same as always—hard on the outside, soft on the inside, almost funny how predictable it was.

---

In a dim, damp alley behind campus, Kayla Morgan clutched her phone, knuckles bone-white. On the line were the girls who'd been busted the night before, their voices frantic and edged with desperation. "Kayla, you gotta get us out! If we get locked up, who knows if they'll find out about that stuff in the room!"

Kayla's heart squeezed; her voice dropped a few degrees. "Did you clean everything up?"

"We're not idiots! But these cops keep grilling us. We might slip up, okay?"

"I hear you," Kayla cut in, ending the call with a jab of her finger, malice flashing in her eyes. What a bunch of morons—couldn't even handle one simple thing.

Kayla sucked in a deep breath, pushing down her anger, and dialed her brother Tate Morgan's number. It barely rang before he picked up. "Hey, Tate," she said, her voice soft with a hint of fake distress. "There's been a situation…"

Tate had just come out of a company meeting, still sharp in his business suit, but his tone was patient. "What's wrong, Kay? Somebody giving you a hard time?"

"No, it's about Laylani." Kayla bit her lip gently. "Day before yesterday was her eighteenth birthday. A few of her friends were out celebrating with her. But somehow, they all ended up at the police station."

She paused, picking her words carefully to pin the blame on Laylani. "I asked around, but there aren't many details. All I know is… Laylani was the one who called the cops. Tate, has Laylani been in a bad mood lately? How could she do something like that on her birthday?"

On the other end, Tate's brow furrowed, his face darkening. He remembered Laylani's rebellious stunts over the past few days and felt irritation rise. Laylani had always been headstrong and narrow-minded, throwing fits when things didn't go her way. It wasn't a stretch to think she'd called the cops out of spite.

"I'll handle it," Tate replied, his voice impatient, carrying a hint of scolding. "Laylani is still so immature, always stirring up drama. She could learn a thing or two from you, Kayla. Leave it to me."

With the Morgan family's reach, springing those girls from a minor disturbance charge was just one phone call away.

"Thanks, Tate," Kayla said, hanging up with a smirk of satisfaction. With Tate on it, Laylani wouldn't be stirring up any more trouble.

---

Back at the academic building, Kayla was climbing the stairs when a familiar figure stopped her. She looked up into Zechariah Boyd's cool, deep eyes, and her heart skipped a beat. "Zechariah," she greeted softly.

Leaning against the wall, his shirt collar slightly open, Zechariah's composed expression held a hint of concern. "What's going on with Laylani lately?" he asked, direct as always.

Kayla dropped her gaze, twisting the hem of her shirt in an innocent little gesture. "I'm not sure…"

She glanced up, pretending to search her memory. "Her birthday was a few days ago. She seemed really upset, threw a huge fit, and got the people celebrating with her taken to the police station…"

Zechariah's frown deepened. Could it really be over something so trivial? Laylani was truly spoiled. Just because her birthday wasn't perfect, she'd go this far. Even resorting to threatening him with their engagement. He had indulged her way too much.

"I see," Zechariah replied, his voice growing colder, his irritation plain. "Just ignore her. She's being dramatic."

If Laylani wanted to pitch a fit, let her. After she cooled off for a few days, she'd come crawling back to apologize.

Without another word, Zechariah turned and walked away.

Kayla stayed put, watching his tall, retreating figure with a satisfied smile. She knew Zechariah too well. The more Laylani got on his nerves, the more doors would open for her.

---

Meanwhile, in her classroom, Laylani sat by the window, her pen resting on her textbook, her gaze far away. She was rapidly sorting through the web of connections in this life.

If Laylani's memory served, she was still the class president of the finance department. In her previous life, she'd eagerly grabbed the role, hoping to impress Zechariah—who was in the same major and president of the student council. She wanted to be close to him, to get him to notice her.

The class was a gathering of heirs from powerful families. Most couldn't care less about academics, forming cliques based on wealth and connections, and they cared way more about social rank than studying.

To wrangle these unruly rich kids, she'd been a hard-ass about attendance and discipline, which earned her the hatred of many classmates and trashed her reputation.

Later, when her life hit rock bottom and her rep was shattered, not a single soul stood up for her.

Not long after, Kayla transferred from the drama department to her finance class. With her sweet, understanding vibe—always smiling, always approachable—she quickly became everyone's favorite, the exact opposite of Laylani. Kayla stole the class presidency, won over everyone's hearts, and Laylani was gradually pushed out, her life crumbling from addiction until she vanished from all social circles.

Kayla had ridden her fall all the way to graduation and a job at Amazon, her path always smooth. Wherever she went, others paved the way.

Laylani's fingers curled tighter. Before she was fully back on her feet, she wasn't about to let those connections and resources slip into Kayla's hands again.

---

In the evening, during the last statistics class, a light rain began to fall outside. The professor lectured enthusiastically at the front, but the students were restless, eyes darting to the window again and again. The rain pattered in time with their uneasy hearts.

The second the bell rang, the classroom burst into motion, students filing out. "See you tomorrow, Laylani!" Nataly Hughes called, waving as she bolted for the door.

Laylani gave a nod, but her attention was pulled to her phone—two missed calls from the same unknown number.

Gathering her stuff, she headed downstairs and found a quiet corner in the hallway to return the call. It barely rang before a clear, slightly cocky young voice answered. "I sent the files to your email. Check 'em yourself."

"Thanks," Laylani replied, her tone even.

The guy clicked his tongue, annoyed. "Seriously, Laylani? You used the one favor I owed you on this? Next time, don't come asking me for help. I'm out."

Laylani's lips curved slightly. "Appreciate it."

And with that, she hung up, crisp as anything.

On the other end, hunkered down in a private villa in the Alps, the guy stared at the ended call. His fair, pretty face puffed up in indignation, and he tossed his phone aside, grumbling, "Use me and lose me—what an ungrateful piece of work! So damn infuriating!"