Reborn To Watch The Golden Boy Ruin Everyone

The class golden boy—Rhys—was a born bad seed, the kind of guy who took twisted pleasure in messing with people’s heads. I’d caught him manipulating things a few times: planting rumors, whispering calculated half-truths. It was sickening.

But he was an absolute master of the disguise. The best friends who turned on each other, the couples who broke up in spectacular, screaming matches—they all blamed each other, unable and unwilling to believe that their gentle, kind Rhys could possibly be involved.

I figured I could just wait it out until graduation and we’d all scatter to different colleges. But after the SAT scores were released, he sent a cryptic link to our class group chat.

“Hey, babes, the Harvard Admissions Office reached out to me early! Anyone in our class who clicks this link and signs up can get an automatic acceptance to Harvard, even if you’re a little short on your score.”

“They said it’s a new policy this year to lock in the top students, and I won’t lie—I get a two-hundred-dollar referral bonus for everyone who registers. It’s enough to cover my textbooks, so I’d really appreciate your help, guys.”

The class ate it up. They adored their inspiring, hardworking golden boy and rushed to register.

In the past life, I’d been the one to question it. Why does the site say it’s The Cambridge Center for Global Studies? My classmates had instantly turned on me.

“Dean, are you serious? Everyone knows CCGS is just Harvard’s nickname! You sound ridiculous.”

“He probably doesn’t know, he’s just jealous of Rhys, especially since he’s always had a thing for Sierra.”

Infuriated but terrified for my best friend, Sierra, I’d revealed the suspicious link to her father, a university professor, during a dinner party. He’d instantly recognized it as a predatory scam, changed Sierra’s college application, and alerted the other parents in the group chat.

Rhys got none of his commission. On the last day of the application window, he’d posted a picture of a fake Harvard acceptance letter and a cryptic photo of the ocean, with a caption about his dreams being crushed and hoping for a better next life. Then, he disappeared.

He became their martyr—the angel on a pedestal I had spitefully torn down. They were convinced my jealousy had killed him.

Sierra, whose infatuation with Rhys had become a terrifying obsession, took it to a depraved extreme. When she came over to our house, she poisoned the dinner my parents and I were eating.

After our deaths, our classmates provided alibis, lying to the police and claiming she was with them. Sierra’s own parents, knowing the truth but prioritizing their daughter’s future, chose to stay silent.

I opened my eyes, staring at the phone screen. The same class chat. The same deceptive link.

This time, I felt nothing but a cold, heavy indifference as they rushed, one by one, into the trap.

If they wanted to go to ‘The Cambridge Center for Global Studies’ so badly, then this life, they would have their wish.

1

The poison had felt like fire. My parents and I writhed, dark blood foaming at our lips.

Sierra stood over me, her face a mask of triumphant vengeance.

“You deserve this, Dean. I finally got revenge for Rhys!”

“If you hadn’t been so nosy, maybe Rhys and I would be together! I don’t care if he was lying about the college—I would have followed him to a for-profit scam school if he asked!”

After the agony of my death, my soul lingered. I watched the police investigation, the classmates providing their perfectly rehearsed, fabricated alibis, complete with timestamped photos.

“Sierra was with us all night! She never went home. We have pictures.”

“Dean died? Oh, it must have been food poisoning. I heard his family always ate leftovers and expired stuff.”

Mr. and Mrs. Miller, who knew Sierra had been at our house, squeezed out two phony tears and then acted as if nothing had happened.

My soul drifted further, and that was when I saw him: Rhys, who was supposed to be dead.

He had a woman—a different woman—in his arms. His voice was thick with malice.

“Too bad I couldn’t fleece more from those idiots. I’d be set for life.”

“And Dean? The asshole deserved to die. All his meddling. Sierra, that idiot, was pretty useful, though. I played the heartbroken saint, and she was crazy enough to kill for me.”

Watching his smug, victorious smile, a bitter wave of regret washed over me. I was the one who had brought that psycho into my parents’ lives, and it had killed us all.

If I could do it over…

Everything went black. Then, the cheerful, relieved voice of my mother, Laura, cut through the silence.

“Dean! Your scores are incredible! I’m so proud of you, honey!”

“I have to call your father, Robert. He was pacing just waiting for your final number.”

I spun around, staring at Mom’s smiling face. Tears, hot and uncontrollable, streamed down my cheeks.

She was startled, rushing over to wipe them away.

“What is it, sweetie? Too much stress?”

“No, Mom. It’s okay. Just… so surprised by the scores.”

I forced a laugh, assuring her I was fine, urging her to call Dad. When she left the room, I pinched my arm hard, the sharp, undeniable pain confirming the impossible.

I was back.

The computer screen, still open to the score report, reminded me of the exact moment: the day Rhys sent the link.

I picked up my phone. Rhys’s message was there, tagging the whole class. I didn’t need to read it; I knew the manipulative, sad-sack routine was in full swing, begging them to sign up.

I will not interfere with anyone else’s destiny. I swore to myself. This life, all I cared about was protecting my parents and me. Everyone else could burn.

I marked the group chat as unread and began formulating a plan. I’d tell Mom that since Yale was so far away, we should move. Living near a sociopath like Sierra was too dangerous.

But then, my phone rang. The name on the screen made my stomach drop: Sierra.

What did she want? After a moment of panicked indecision, I hit the record button and answered.

“Dean, what took you so long?”

“Whatever. Listen, Rhys got a special deal for the class. You need to click that link and sign up immediately. It’s Harvard. You should really thank him.”

Sierra’s tone was sharp, condescending, as if she were bestowing a huge favor.

I felt a cold sneer forming inside me. Last time, after I’d exposed the scam, she’d initially looked relieved. But later, she couldn’t accept Rhys’s ‘death.’ Knowing her friends and parents would protect her, she had murdered my entire family just to play the devoted, heartbroken lover and prove her commitment to him.

She hadn’t always been this way. We were next-door neighbors, our mothers joking about a ‘baby marriage’ since birth. We grew up together, and she used to be caring, present. I honestly thought we’d be together forever, and seeing her fall for Rhys had been painful.

I wouldn’t have tried to stop her if she’d just been honest. I would have offered my blessing. But she kept me on the hook. Even last time, I knew she was using me as a backup plan, but the history was too hard to let go. Now, I was finally free.

“Hello? I’m talking to you. Say something.” My long silence made her impatient.

“…Thank you for the offer,” I said, my voice carefully neutral. “But I don’t need the ‘favor.’ Give it to someone else.”

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re turning down Harvard? Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Rhys again.”

“Fine, whatever, be a drama queen. But sign up now—”

I didn’t want to hear her sickening voice anymore. I hung up and blocked her number.

But Rhys was too greedy to lose a referral fee. He started goading the other students to call me.

“Dean, everyone else is signed up! Don’t be weird and unsupportive.”

“Are you just refusing to help Rhys pay for his textbooks? That’s really cruel, man.”

They moved from cajoling to aggressive moral blackmail. I was done. I silenced my phone.

This life, I wouldn’t warn them. Not a word. Let the idiots learn their lesson.

What kind of legitimate university recruits using a nickname, lets you skip the line, and gives out cash bonuses? Had Rhys hollowed out their brains?

I went to find Mom, determined to find a reason to move away from the Millers. Mr. and Mrs. Miller had been kind, yes, but when their daughter’s future was at stake, they had tossed my family aside without hesitation. I understood the pragmatism. I just didn’t forgive it.

“Mom, maybe… we should keep our distance from the Millers for a while.”

She looked surprised, then smiled, thinking she knew what was wrong. “Did you and Sierra have a fight? I can go smooth things over.”

“No, Mom. She has a boyfriend. She’s been using me as a… a backup plan. And she’s been really awful to me lately.” I forced a slight flush around my eyes.

Her expression changed instantly, picking up on my manufactured pain. “That girl has the nerve to string you along? The ‘baby marriage’ was just a silly joke we made when you were babies! She actually took it seriously?”

“No. She’s not doing that to my son. She doesn’t get to treat you like a consolation prize. I’m going to go talk to Richard about how he raised his daughter.”

I quickly pulled her back. “Don’t, Mom. Please. I don’t want you and Dad caught in the middle. I just won’t associate with Sierra anymore.”

“I want to go to Yale in Boston. And I want to stay in Boston after I graduate. Mom, let’s move there. I don’t want to be away from you guys.”

She hugged me tight, her resistance gone.

“We’ll do it. When your dad gets home, I’ll talk to him about selling the house. With the profit and our savings, we can buy a nice place in Boston.”

“Don’t worry, Dean. Your parents will always put you first.”

That evening, Dad came home, and Mom pitched the idea of moving.

“That’s a great idea,” Dad agreed immediately. “We can find a place, and you’ll be close enough to come home on weekends.”

We were deep in a cheerful discussion about the size of the new house when a frantic knocking sounded at the door.

“Mr. and Mrs. Vance, I need to talk to Dean!”

Dad frowned as he opened it. Mom had told him about Sierra’s manipulative games, and he was clearly annoyed. But this felt like a chance to end things cleanly.

“Come to my room, Sierra.”

I led her into my bedroom, intentionally leaving the door slightly ajar.

As soon as we were inside, she launched into a tirade. “Why haven’t you signed up yet?”

“That’s hilarious. Why do I have to? Do I need your permission to choose my college?”

Provoked, Sierra lost her composure. Her voice turned shrill. “Stop being so childish, Dean. Do you get a kick out of causing problems for Rhys? If you just sign up, I’ll… I’ll consider giving us a real try. How about that?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Sierra. I said it once, and I’ll say it again: I don’t want you. Who cares if you’ll ‘try’? You have no right to tell me what to do with my application!”

I must have triggered something deeper. Sierra completely lost control and shrieked.

“You are malicious, Dean! You’re happy Rhys won’t get into college, aren’t you? You will sign up right now!”

She shoved me aside and rushed toward my computer, trying to force the application.

“Get out of my house!”

The door was thrown open. Mom stood there, absolutely furious.

“You’ve got nerve! Coming into my house, screaming at my son, and trying to change his application!”

“My son doesn’t want you! Get away from him. Don’t you ever come back and harass us again!”

My enraged parents pushed Sierra out the door. She tried to stammer a defense, but then her front door opened, and Mr. Miller stepped out.

“What is going on, Laura? What did Sierra do?”

“You’re just the person I wanted to see, Richard. I want to know if you have a problem with our family. Your daughter just called my son a vicious backstabber and tried to physically force him to change his college application!”

Mr. Miller looked at Sierra with disbelief. But she was still trying to justify herself.

“It’s not true, Mrs. Vance! Dean changed when we went to high school. He’s always targeting people, and I just wanted to help him!”

“I was trying to get him into Harvard! He’s only doing this because Rhys gets a com—”

“Enough! Sierra, my college application has nothing to do with you! Stop pretending you’re doing me a favor!”

I quickly cut her off. Mr. Miller, as a college professor, would instantly recognize the scam if she mentioned the commission. I couldn’t risk her accidentally exposing Rhys’s plot. I was determined to let them all get what they deserved.

“We’re done, Sierra. You go your way, and I’ll go mine. Act like we don’t know each other.”

I pulled my parents back inside, slamming the front door with a resounding crash.

I knew Sierra wouldn’t tell her dad about the commission—she was too afraid of getting Rhys in trouble, knowing how close our families used to be. But thinking of her chilling obsession in the last life, I still wasn’t comfortable until we moved. I immediately ordered a security camera/monitoring system for rush delivery.

I just wanted to be safe. I never expected to use the feed so soon.

The day before the application deadline, I was out shopping with Mom when my phone alerted me to a break-in.

I tapped the screen. Sierra was in my bedroom, acting suspiciously.

Our balconies weren’t far apart. In the summer, with the window open, she could have climbed over. But we were on the twelfth floor. She wasn’t just insane; she was fearless.

I watched her fiddle with my computer for several minutes. Finally, in a fit of rage, she slammed the mouse down. I’d anticipated her attempt and changed my application password to the most complex configuration, deleting all the browsing history.

Her loyalty to Rhys was insane. To commit felony breaking-and-entering for a stupid referral fee—did she really think a little neighborly history would stop me from calling the police?

After another failed attempt, she clearly panicked about us returning. She gave up and turned to Dad’s study, quickly hiding something in his bookshelf before scrambling back out the window.

“Mom, I’m suddenly exhausted. Can we go home?”

As soon as we got inside, I rushed to the study. I found the manila envelope she’d stashed. Inside was an investment prospectus for ‘The Cambridge Center for Global Studies.’

Rhys must have given it to her to hide, planning to use it later to frame my family as the ones who owned the scam school.

I tore the papers to shreds, soaked them into pulp in the sink, and flushed the disgusting mess down the toilet.

Let those two bastards wait for their karma.

Just a few days after the deadline passed, the students’ ‘acceptance letters’ started arriving.

They bragged in the group chat, clearly trying to needle me.

“Harvard’s letters came fast! See you all in Cambridge!”

“The whole class is back together! Oh wait, I forgot, we’re missing one. Wonder if he regrets missing his shot.”

“Forget him. The class weirdo. The local news heard about us all getting into Harvard, and they’re doing a feature! We’re going to be on TV!”

I had to suppress a laugh. A TV feature? Would Rhys dare to show up, risking immediate exposure?

The morons were so desperate for attention they were going to put themselves on national television.

The interview was a live broadcast. I settled onto the couch, ready for the show.

The entire class was present—except for Rhys.