His Betrayal, My Reborn Heart

In my previous life, I poured my family's savings into Diego Torres. He was a scholarship student I mistook for a tech prodigy, and I helped him become a billionaire.

His way of thanking me was conspiring with his first love, Kiana, to kill me in an explosion.

My mistake cost me everything.

But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in the campus cafe, years before my murder. There was still time to fix every mistake.

Diego sat across from me, demanding a thirty-thousand-dollar monthly allowance for Kiana, or else he would refuse my funding.

In that instant, I knew he had been reborn too.

Chapter 1

Avery May's POV:

"Avery," Diego began, "you have to pay Kiana a monthly living allowance. Thirty thousand dollars. Otherwise, I will no longer accept your funding."

My coffee cup stopped halfway to my mouth. I set it down, my gaze falling first on the napkin, then on Diego's face. A predatory gleam flickered in his eyes, exactly like when he stood beside me right before the end.

In that instant, I knew. He had been reborn too.

"Thirty thousand dollars?" I repeated, my tone flat and devoid of emotion.

The sheer audacity of the demand was a carbon copy of the one he made in my past life—a life I was now reliving. It gave me a chilling sense of déjà vu. He hadn't learned a thing; everything was playing out exactly as I remembered.

Diego nodded, his chest puffing out slightly. His cheap synthetic shirt clung to his frame. "That's right. For Kiana. She deserves all of this. And you, Avery, will benefit from this investment too."

"My future business empire has no room for the indecisive, or for those who don't support my vision." With that, a condescending smile crept across his face.

I studied him carefully. He wore a threadbare jacket and frayed sneakers, carrying the faint, lingering scent of cheap ramen. He was still just a scholarship student scraping by, barely surviving on financial aid.

Yet, he spoke as if he already owned a private jet.

His resurrected ego floated above his impoverished reality like some grotesque balloon.

In my past life, I had invested heavily in this man.

I had seen his ambition and mistaken it for genuine talent, funding him out of a misplaced sense of duty. I thought I was nurturing true innovation; I thought I was lifting someone out of the mud.

I was wrong. I was doing nothing but enabling a parasite.

My voice remained steady, a dangerous calm simmering just beneath the surface.

"Wake up, Diego. You're just a scholarship student. Your parents still live in a trailer park outside Bakersfield. You're barely scraping by. What exactly about you screams 'destined for greatness' that I should be investing in?"

I watched the color drain from his face. His mask of arrogance cracked, revealing a flash of genuine fury.

He hated being reminded of his humble origins, a fact I