In fact, just hours ago, when Reagan died in that accident, she had been driving one of the luxury cars from my garage, the steering wheel wrapped in soft leather. That and this crude wooden box. The difference was obvious at a touch.
I smiled, pulling a watch from my pocket.
"Just something I casually picked up when I passed by a high-end watch store today. After all, the girl before me is my girlfriend now. I couldn't be too biased."
I slid the elegant gift box toward Harper Sinclair. "Today is also our first day together. This is my gift. See if you like it."
The comments erupted again.
Wait a minute. Isn't that the watch he gave the female lead in the past life? Why is he giving it to someone else now? He's definitely still playing the retreat to advance strategy, trying to get the female lead's attention. Trust me, he won't keep this up for long.
Harper Sinclair, still reeling from the black card situation, was shocked all over again by this gift. She trembled as she reached out to touch the watch face, but Reagan suddenly shouted, "Don't touch it. That's clearly mine."
The rest of her words died in her throat.
I knew what she meant to say, that the watch was hers. Reagan once told me she had worn that watch for six years straight. Treasured it dearly. Every night she carefully removed it, polished it clean, before placing it back in its box.
But times have changed. Now her heart belongs to her childhood sweetheart. Cheap material things like this probably don't matter anymore.
Callum glared daggers at me. "Think you're so great just because you have money. Everything about you reeks of dirty cash. A watch with no heart behind it. How could it compare to my jar of stars, filled with love for her?"
"Right." Reagan snapped back to reality, forcing out a strange smile. "Callum's right."
She collected herself, about to continue sweet-talking her sweetheart, when her phone suddenly rang. That knockoff phone had spotty reception, but the distance wasn't far, so I heard very clearly from the speaker. A cold voice transmitted through.
"Hello, Miss Shaw. Your mother's hospital fees need to be paid again."
Reagan's face instantly changed. Comments immediately went wild.
Almost forgot, the female lead's mother is hospitalized with a serious illness. She desperately needs money for treatment. I remember in the past life Dante threw a hundred thousand straight at the hospital. The surgery went smoothly. By now, the male and female leads should just be getting their sugar rush. Dante's definitely going to use the female lead's mother's situation to pressure her again. Why does Dante cling so relentlessly? Oh no, Dante's looking at the female lead again. He definitely thinks this is his chance to get close.
I remembered hearing from some classmates that Reagan's mother had had cancer for years now. Her family had drained their savings and was drowning in debt.
I immediately turned to look at Harper Sinclair. "Your family doesn't have anyone sick, right?"
"No, no one."
Reagan jumped up, ready to rush straight to the hospital. But the server blocked her path. "Miss, you haven't paid your bill yet."
Soft laughter rippled around us. Everyone knew she used to have the backing of the Sterling family. No matter what upscale restaurant she walked into, the owner would greet her warmly, bowing and ushering her inside. Clearly, Reagan, fresh from rebirth, hadn't adjusted to the change yet.
The server held out the bill. One thousand two hundred and eighty dollars. That was less than half a bottle of the wine she used to drink.
Reagan reflexively reached to pull out the black card. But when she found her pocket empty, cold sweat instantly beaded on her forehead.
Right. She had just returned to eighteen. Young again, innocent again, and broke without a penny to her name. Forget one thousand two hundred and eighty. She didn't even have eighty cents.
The server maintained their smile. Reagan ground her teeth and turned to Callum.
"Callum, could you cover this meal? I'll pay you back later."
Callum immediately went defensive. "Reagan, my monthly allowance is only fifteen hundred. If one meal costs twelve hundred, how am I supposed to survive the rest of the month?"
"Don't worry, I'll find a way to make money."
"And what way would that be? Didn't you say you were treating? Why are you making me pay now?"
Callum muttered under his breath, refusing to settle the bill. Not even an hour into their relationship, the lead couple had already hit their first romantic hurdle.
Right then, I pulled out my card, calling softly to the server. Reagan turned away in disgust, as if one more step from me would mean I'd latch on to her and never let go. Right now, she wanted absolutely nothing to do with a guy like me. Not even a little.
Her voice dripped with contempt. "Vincent Dante, how many times do I have to say it? Can you please just stay away from me? I hate how you cling like a leech. And I hate even more how you wedge yourself between me and Callum. Neither me nor my mother needs your dirty money."
I stared at Reagan's shamelessness in disbelief. Even according to the comments, in my past life I had been madly obsessed with her, but right now there had been nothing between us.
Comments popped up right on cue, saying that in the past life, when Reagan couldn't afford tuition, I, Vincent Dante, had only just pulled out the black card. I hadn't even opened my mouth to ask her to be my girlfriend. Yet she had already rushed to confess to her sweetheart first. Before that moment, we'd had absolutely zero connection whatsoever.
The one who hated me in the past life was her. And the one trapped in the past, unable to break free, was also her.
I curved my lips into a cold smile. "I was just calling the server back to pay my bill. Classmate Reagan, are you sick or something? Why do you keep thinking I'm following you around?"
Her face went deathly pale, only now beginning to vaguely realize that right now we were nothing but strangers. The six-year entanglement from the past life hadn't happened yet. Understanding that, she staggered back half a step.
Comments started flooding in with concern.
Why isn't Dante helping the female lead's mother anymore? Exactly. If Dante doesn't give her money, where's the female lead supposed to get that kind of cash? The female lead's mother was her only comfort through six years of suffering.
Watching the comments scroll past, my expression went cold. According to them, I had used money to crush Reagan. Those so-called six years of suffering were the shameful past Reagan wanted to forget. But in the past life, after I used my money to help her mother's treatment, what I got in return was scheming from both Reagan and her mother.
How can a man live under a woman's thumb? Listen to your mother. You need to keep the money in your own hands to be safe. My daughter is so capable. Even got into a prestigious university. That Sterling boy is an only son. Sooner or later, all that money will belong to our family anyway.
Reagan bowed her head in submission.
But tragically, the Sterling family's massive fortune wasn't something an outsider like her could ever dream of reaching. What she could actually touch were only the scraps that fell through my fingers. Behave, and I'd give her a little. Disobey, and she wouldn't get a single cent. A wealthy young master like me. How stupid would I have to be to hand my entire fortune to someone else?
Harper Sinclair couldn't hold back. "Classmate Reagan, you're clearly the one who's been clinging to Dante. He doesn't even spare you a glance. Yet you act like you're being forced, like you're being humiliated. How ridiculous."
Reagan lowered her voice, sounding irritated. "You Sinclair girl, you're just some country bumpkin. And you dare use that tone with me? Do you even know who I am?"
Her voice dropped lower, exactly like a wealthy young lady, carrying that arrogance money cultivates. The her from the past life. After starting her company, countless people called her Director Shaw. She heard it so often she got used to it. Her head gradually floated up into the clouds.
Reagan just didn't realize that right now the clothes on her back weren't even as nice as Harper Sinclair's.
I raised an eyebrow. "Classmate Reagan's got a point."
Harper Sinclair looked at me, hurt.
I surveyed her outfit from head to toe. Plain and cheap. Might as well be straight off some farm. I frowned, waving my hand dismissively.
"A domineering young master like me can't be seen with someone dressed in rags. I wouldn't wear that stuff even if you gave it to me free. Harper Sinclair, come with me to the mall right now. Don't leave until you've spent at least two hundred thousand on clothes."
Walking out of the store carrying several designer shopping bags, Harper Sinclair was still in a daze. She hadn't fully come back to reality. I ruffled her hair.
"My girlfriend obviously needs to wear only the best."