Rebirth: Love me Again

|| A/N ||

I was considering creating a separate book for the other female leads, but since their stories are shorter and more like snippets, I've decided to incorporate them into this one instead. Hope that's alright with everyone!

Thank you all for your amazing support!

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[IRAYA]

I made my way to the salon, the weight of my decision heavy but liberating. It was time to shed the remnants of Jason's influence, starting with my hair.

I instructed the stylist to return it to its natural shade, the soft chestnut brown I had once loved. As the dark dye was stripped away, it felt like layers of his control were being peeled back, strand by strand.

When I walked out, my reflection no longer bore the shadow of who Jason wanted me to be. It was the first step back to reclaiming myself.

Afterward, I went shopping for clothes that resonated with who I truly was—practical, comfortable, and elegant in their simplicity. Not the short skirts and flashy dresses he insisted I wear—outfits that made me feel like a walking fashion faux pas.

When I first arrived in this foreign country, I had high hopes. I believed I could fit in effortlessly, that my warmth and openness would be met with the same love and acceptance I had back home. But life had a cruel way of showing me otherwise.

Jason had seemed like the perfect remedy for my homesickness, a charming anchor in unfamiliar waters. I let him mold parts of me, naively thinking it was compromise when, in reality, it was control. My wardrobe—once filled with long sleeves, slacks, and business-casual attire—had been whittled away piece by piece.

"It's too plain," he would say. Or, "You'd look hotter in something shorter."

One by one, my favorite pieces disappeared, thrown out or conveniently "lost." At first, I didn't notice where they went. Then Kylie started showing up wearing them, flaunting the limited-edition, custom-tailored pieces I had worked hard to acquire.

I knew they were mine. They were unmistakable—some even bore my initials, subtly stitched into the fabric. Jason must have given them to her.

I wanted to confront him, to demand answers, but every time I tried, I stopped myself. "They're childhood friends," I would remind myself. "I'm the outsider here."

It was a bitter pill to swallow, convincing myself to accept the unacceptable.

But not anymore.

As I navigated the bustling streets on my way to school, my phone buzzed. The name flashing on the screen made my blood boil—Jason. My grip tightened on the steering wheel as I debated whether to answer, but I knew I couldn't avoid him forever.

I swiped to answer, my voice calm despite the storm raging within me. "Hello?"

His voice burst through the speakers, as agitated as ever. "Iraya, where are you? Why did you tell my dad that you'd be driving today? What am I supposed to do now? I don't have a car!"

I clenched my teeth, holding back the retort that threatened to spill. Anger simmered beneath the surface, but I wouldn't let him see it—not yet. He didn't deserve that satisfaction. No, I wanted him and Kylie to stew in the mess they'd created. Slowly. Painfully.

Jason Benson was the son of my driver. When I first arrived in this country, unfamiliar with its roads and traffic laws, his father, Mr. Benson, had been hired to assist me. Through him, I met Jason—a charming, ambitious young man who quickly wormed his way into my life.

That was four years ago. Two years after meeting him, I made the mistake of allowing my emotions to cloud my judgment. I transferred Jason to my private school, a move financed entirely by me.

Little did I know, I was handing him the perfect stage to play the role of a billionaire's son—a role he relished, using my wealth and generosity to bolster his fabricated image.

No one questioned his background. Jason was an immigrant, and most of our classmates assumed his luxurious lifestyle was inherited wealth. Even Kylie, his childhood friend, remained blissfully unaware of his modest origins.

And now, here he was, whining to me about a car—my Royce. Discover hidden content at empire

"I wanted to drive myself today," I replied, my tone measured.

"What? Do you even know how to drive here?" he shot back, incredulous.

I bit back a bitter laugh. "Jason, I've been here for almost four years. I'm about to graduate law school. Trust me, I've figured it out."

He let out an exaggerated sigh, as if I were the one inconveniencing him. "Fine. Then what car are you driving? Can you pick me up? Kylie and I are at the mall. We just finished lunch."

The audacity of him mentioning Kylie so casually, it made my stomach churn. My knuckles whitened as I gripped the wheel, but I forced my voice to remain steady. "Oh? I thought you were at home? You said that you wanted to eat lunch made by your mother?"

There was a pause, just long enough to catch him scrambling for a lie. "Well . . . plans changed. I just ran into Kylie here, and we decided to grab lunch."

Ran into her? As if I didn't know better.

"Kylie has her own car, doesn't she? She can drive herself," I said flatly.

Jason groaned in frustration. "We came here in my car, but now you've gone and said to my father that you would drive. How are we supposed to get back to school?!"

I bit the inside of my cheek, my patience hanging by a thread. Was he always this shameless? His car? He had the gall to claim ownership over something he hadn't paid a cent for. That car was mine—a custom Rolls-Royce I had generously allowed Mr. Benson to drive for me to school.

But everyone thought that it was Jason and I was that ordinary girl he dated out of pity, who constantly ride with him.

"Jason," I said, my voice sharp and final, "I'm driving the McLaren today. It's a two-seater, so there's no room for Kylie. You'll have to figure something else."

"What?! How am I supposed to—"

"Take a cab," I cut him off, my tone icy. "Or better yet, have Kylie figure it out. She's 'rich,' isn't she?"

Before he could respond, I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the passenger seat. My heart pounded in my chest, not from sadness or regret, but from the simmering rage that fueled me.

This was just the beginning. Jason and Kylie thought they could deceive me, take advantage of my generosity, and walk away unscathed. They had no idea who they were dealing with.

I adjusted my sunglasses, a small smirk tugging at my lips as I pressed the accelerator. Let them stew. Let them wonder. The reckoning had only just begun.

They wanted to be together? That could be arrange.