Chapter 1: The Platinum Card Ultimatum

I pulled out my platinum card, ready to pay Ethan Carter’s tuition.

The card flashed beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, catching the scent of lemony floor polish and the low hum of the AC. The admissions office felt both sterile and charged, as if the air itself was waiting for something big to happen.

The card caught the light, glinting with a kind of promise that screamed old money—like the kind you see in Manhattan penthouses or Beverly Hills mansions. My hand didn’t even tremble; Whitmore girls were taught to be decisive, and I’d been swiping cards bigger than a Brooklyn studio’s rent since I was sixteen. The hush that fell over the admissions office was almost physical, everyone holding their breath like a reality show host was about to reveal the final twist.

Suddenly, Ethan’s whole demeanor changed. He stiffened, his shoulders squaring as if bracing for impact, eyes darting away from me. The admissions counselor actually dropped her pen, her mouth forming a small "oh," while the receptionist paused mid-typing, eyes wide. Even the janitor slowed his mopping, sensing the shift.

Ethan’s whole vibe shifted in an instant. His jaw tightened, hands clenching at his sides, and he wouldn’t meet my gaze. One second, he was just another broke kid in faded jeans; the next, he looked haunted, like he was carrying the weight of a secret that hurt to remember. The chill between us was almost a physical wall, even though the Texas sun was still blazing outside, making the glass doors sweat.

The comments on my livestream scrolled like wildfire, my phone screen lighting up with every new hot take.

[OMG, the male lead just got a second chance—back to square one.]

[FR, he can finally fix all the things he regrets with his high school sweetheart.]

[If the rich girl hadn’t used her dirty money last time, the leads would’ve never missed out on each other!]

My phone vibrated in my palm, the chat box filling with strangers convinced they knew my story better than I did. In the digital world, everyone’s got an opinion about girls like me—especially when money’s involved.

I looked up and met Ethan’s new, icy gaze—his eyes suddenly distant, unreadable.

His stare hit me hard, not sharp like broken glass but cold as winter rain—piercing, but with a sadness that felt ancient. I’d only ever seen that look on men who’d lost everything. For a moment, I wondered if I’d ever really known him at all.

But when he turned to Lily Martinez, his childhood sweetheart, I saw his eyes fill—not with tears, but with a glassy ache, pain barely held back.

His gaze softened for Lily, a flicker of something raw and vulnerable passing between them. It was the kind of look you’d give someone you’d missed for a lifetime, not just a summer.

Oh no.

My stomach twisted, palms going sweaty and my heart thumping against my ribs. This wasn’t just awkward anymore—something was seriously off. It felt like I’d stumbled into a script everyone else already knew, and I was the only one without a copy.

The phrase—The male lead has been reborn—echoed in my mind, surreal and impossible. But the way Ethan was acting, it almost made sense. I felt like I’d wandered into a Riverdale episode where the plot had completely spun out of control and nobody bothered to fill me in.

Reborn at eighteen, broke, with nothing but the wind at his back.

And me? I was suddenly the villain in someone else’s coming-of-age story. The kind who gets written out before the second season even starts. If that was my role, what did that mean for my future? Was I doomed to be the footnote in someone else’s happy ending?