Reborn as the Rich Girl’s Rival
Chapter 6: The Sanders' True Colors
That night, I slipped a stack of twenties in an envelope and handed it to Emily in the cafeteria, calling it an "advance on tutoring."
Emily stared at the money, her hands shaking. For me, it was a week’s allowance. For her, it was hope—a way to buy medicine for her grandma, maybe cover rent, keep the landlord at bay.
After we set a tutoring schedule, I headed home.
The Grant house was as silent and cavernous as I remembered. Mr. Grant was away on business, Mrs. Grant off at a spa retreat. Even the housekeeper moved like a ghost.
Ryan? If he wasn’t at a party, he was probably at the Sanders’ tiny apartment, sitting down to a homemade meal.
In my last life, Ryan had been my ride home; my new parents welcomed him in, fed him dinner, treated him like family. That’s how it always goes in those shows: the rich boy comes for a taste of real family, and can’t help but fall for the girl there.
Right now, he and Megan were probably sharing microwaved meatloaf and instant potatoes, laughing like old friends.
I slipped into my silk robe, washed my face with Clinique, and ate the chicken noodle soup the housekeeper left on the stove. Alone, I smirked.
No one in Oakview knew the Sanders’ secret: for all their warm-hearted charm, they were just as scheming as the Grants. They always wanted a son, but when the orphanage had no healthy boys, they settled for a pretty girl—hoping, maybe, she’d snag a rich husband.
One night, I watched Mrs. Sanders fuss over Megan in front of Ryan, pushing a plate of homemade cookies toward him. "We’re just simple folks, but we treat everyone like family," she said with a sweet smile. Ryan ate it up, not seeing the calculation in her eyes.
It was all an act. I learned that the hard way. When I told them I didn’t want to marry Ryan, Mrs. Sanders locked me in my room, and Mr. Sanders beat me with a belt and a broken table leg.
Megan thought she’d found paradise. But there’s no such thing as heaven in Oakview—just different shades of hell. The rich have their poison, the poor have theirs. The only way out is to fight free.
