Reborn From The Lake: My Stoic Savior

Chapter 8

Word Count: 683 | Released on: 30/04/2026

d. She intentionally brought her boot down hard on t

uption. She turned, saw the absolute murder in Bridget

ho was supposed to be dying in a hospital bed-standi

facial muscles to shift, pasting o

ut, aiming for her shoulder, his voice dripping w

ed his hand away. The loud smack of flesh on flesh s

. Kurtis pulled his hand back to his che

speak. She held out her open palm.

darting around the empty space. He let out a nervous laug

outh curled up. She pulle

e wasn't wearing. She spoke in a calm, conv

, Corda, was currently sitting

ive and corrupt the morals of a local minor, driving her to a public suicide attem

tis like a freight train. All the color drai

waved his hands, pleading that she wrote

pped to a demonic whisper. She reminded him that a local jury

opened an investigation, his East Coast scholars

forehead. His psychological defenses shatt

ng. He looked at her like she was

ees and ripped open the zipper of his gr

uld barely move the clothes aside.

of pink envelopes, tied toge

oved the stack into Bridget's h

ing whisper. He pleaded with her to run

ver the edges, confirming the handwritin

cket. She looked up and hit him with

she turned her back o

legs gave out, and he slid down to the dirt

breath of the pine-scented air. The heavy, suffocating weight th

pocket. It was

Chapter End

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Reborn From The Lake: My Stoic Savior

Janna Lemay Romance

“Bridget, a ruthless twenty-first-century Wall Street analyst, woke up violently coughing up murky lake water in a decaying 1978 slum. She quickly realized she was trapped in the body of a naive, marginalized teenager who had just committed suicide over a boy's cruel rejection. The original girl had been mercilessly bullied by a fake rich kid named Kurtis and his cruel followers. They had publicly read her desperate love letters out loud, mocking her as a toad trying to eat swan meat, and simply watched as she threw herself into the freezing water. Now, her impoverished mother was left weeping by the bed, facing catastrophic debt and total social ruin in their small town. Everyone expected the surviving girl to wake up begging and crying for the boy who humiliated her. Instead, a cold, calculating fury took over Bridget's analytical mind. "I already died in that lake. That stupid girl is never coming back." How could anyone throw their life away for a pathetic, vain clown wearing a mass-produced fifty-dollar watch? To Bridget, those uncollected love letters weren't symbols of teenage heartbreak. They were toxic assets. They were reputation landmines left out in the open that threatened her new family's survival. Locking away the dead girl's weak emotions, Bridget forced her freezing, exhausted body out of the clinic bed. She set a hard three-month deadline to drag this family out of tier-one poverty. But first, she was marching straight to the volunteer camp to liquidate those liabilities and completely destroy the people who drove this body to death.”