Reborn on SAT Day: A Genius's Second Chance

Reborn on SAT Day: A Genius's Second Chance

Mo Er

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My name is Sarah Miller. I aced the SATs, my ticket to Stanford and a full scholarship – it should have been the greatest triumph of my life, a hard-earned escape from a mother who despised me and a twin sister who envied my every success. But my mother, Karen, decided it was Jessie' s turn to shine. With a sneer, Jessie snatched my acceptance package, revealing their sinister plot: they' d forged documents, stealing my future and handing it to her. When I tried to fight back, they launched a vicious counter-attack. Faked photos of "me" at wild parties, half-naked and drunk, flooded the internet, all blurred just enough to frame me. My best friend, Ashley, then publicly testified to my "insanity" and "promiscuity" for a bribe. The school believed them. Stanford revoked my scholarship, citing "moral turpitude." I became a pariah, whispered about, pointed at, branded the "psycho slut." The injustice was a suffocating weight. How could my own family do this? How could everyone fall for their lies? The world collapsed, and I fell into the dark, cold river. But instead of an ending, I woke up. Back in my bed, on SAT exam day. My alarm clock blared 6:00 AM. I had a second chance. And this time, they wouldn't win.

Introduction

My name is Sarah Miller. I aced the SATs, my ticket to Stanford and a full scholarship – it should have been the greatest triumph of my life, a hard-earned escape from a mother who despised me and a twin sister who envied my every success.

But my mother, Karen, decided it was Jessie' s turn to shine. With a sneer, Jessie snatched my acceptance package, revealing their sinister plot: they' d forged documents, stealing my future and handing it to her.

When I tried to fight back, they launched a vicious counter-attack. Faked photos of "me" at wild parties, half-naked and drunk, flooded the internet, all blurred just enough to frame me. My best friend, Ashley, then publicly testified to my "insanity" and "promiscuity" for a bribe.

The school believed them. Stanford revoked my scholarship, citing "moral turpitude." I became a pariah, whispered about, pointed at, branded the "psycho slut." The injustice was a suffocating weight. How could my own family do this? How could everyone fall for their lies?

The world collapsed, and I fell into the dark, cold river. But instead of an ending, I woke up. Back in my bed, on SAT exam day. My alarm clock blared 6:00 AM. I had a second chance. And this time, they wouldn't win.

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The day my tech startup sold for a cool eighty million dollars, I walked into my Silicon Valley mansion, ready to share the life-changing news with my fiancée, Chloe, and her mother, Brenda. Instead, I found myself accused. Brenda, her eyes narrowed with disapproval, asked, "Ethan, aren't you going to work today?" I made a joke, a test: "The company went under, Brenda. Actually, we're in a pretty significant amount of debt." Her reaction was immediate, explosive. "Ethan Miller, are you seriously telling me that you expect my daughter to marry you and help pay off your pre-marital debts?" Chloe, my fiancée, walked in, shaking her head. "I told you starting a business was a bad idea, but you never listen. Now look what happened. There goes the designer handbag I wanted." Brenda leaned in, her voice dripping with contempt. "A man needs dignity. My Chloe makes good money as an influencer, but she can't just support a freeloader forever." The mansion we stood in, the car and credit cards Chloe used, the very holiday they were enjoying - all mine. Yet, they saw me as the freeloader. The next few days became a twisted game of power, culminating in Brenda moving into my master bedroom, claiming it was her daughter' s house, and banishing me to the tiny, dark maid' s room. "You and Chloe are not married yet. You can't sleep in the same room!" she shrieked. Exasperated, I endured it. But that night, as I passed my former bedroom, I heard voices, low and chilling. Liam' s voice, angry: "When are you going to get rid of that bastard?" Chloe' s voice, calm and cold: "Not yet. If we get rid of him now, we won't get a single dime of his money." Then Liam, a horrifying whisper: "Is the stuff you're giving him even working? Why isn't he dead yet?" My blood ran cold. Chloe' s next words erased any doubt: "Don't you remember how Ethan's father died? Wasn't it from the exact same stuff you were giving him?" My father' s sudden death, the nosebleeds I'd had for weeks-it all clicked into a terrifying, murderous plot. Suddenly, Brenda' s loud, selfish drama, had accidentally saved my life. My family, the people I loved most, were systematically poisoning me, just as they had my father, to inherit my fortune. I knew then what I had to do. I wouldn' t just survive; I would make them pay.

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