The Scammer Groom Met His Match When I Was Reborn

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The Club Girl night before my wedding, I caught my fianc cheating with some club girl. I was so furious I called off the engagement on the spot.

The next morning, I went to return the betrothal gifts520 grams of gold jewelry.

But Brent Fleming pulled out a full set of official receipts and accused me of swapping his real gold for gold-plated silver.

He demanded I compensate him $90,000 at market price.

I was completely blindsided.

From the moment I received that jewelry, I'd locked it in my safe. I hadn't touched it once until that morning.

How had it turned into gold-plated silver?

When I refused to pay, Brent took the whole thing online.

Sobbing crocodile tears, he painted me as a gold-digger who'd scammed him by swapping fake jewelry for real.

I had no evidence to prove my innocence. All I could do was watch as strangers on the internet tore me apart, hurling curses and death wishes.

I lost my job. My life was destroyed.

Even my parents got dragged into it. The stress landed them both in the hospital.

Then Brent sued me. Without evidence to defend myself, I lost the case.

I was ordered to pay him $90,000.

Even then, the harassment didn't stop.

My father's companythe one he'd built over a lifetimewas driven into bankruptcy. That same day, he collapsed from a heart attack and died.

My mother couldn't bear the grief. She swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills and left this world.

I grabbed a knife and went after Brent.

He had me committed to a psychiatric facility, where I was tortured until I died.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the night before the wedding.

The night I caught Brent Fleming kissing that club girl.

The flickering lights stretched their intertwined shadows into something grotesque.

I hid in a dark corner, biting my lip until I tasted blood just to stop myself from rushing over and tearing him apart.

Because I knewbetter than anyonethat this was all part of Brent's plan.

That's right.

He wanted me to catch him cheating. He was forcing me to be the one to call off the wedding.

He'd calculated that my temper would never let me swallow this quietly.

The moment I initiated the breakup, he'd demand the jewelry back and turn the tables on me.

He'd accuse me of swapping $52,000 worth of gold520 grams he'd given me six months agofor worthless plated silver.

And then he'd collect a massive payout.

My blood froze in my veins, then surged hot with rage the very next second.

I remembered so clearlyin my final moments of my past life, Brent had his arm around his new girlfriend.

He looked down at me crumpled on the floor like I was garbage, mocking me, saying my parents and I deserved to die.

"All you had to do was pay me the $90,000 and spread your legs so I could have a taste. But no, you had to play innocent and fight back."

"You got your parents killed and ended up branded a lunatic and attempted murderer."

He laughed. There wasn't a shred of pity in his eyesonly smug satisfaction.

"All it took was a little maneuvering, and everything your parents owned became mine. I'll be living large off their money for the rest of my life."

"Hahaha, Miranda VanceI really should thank you."

"Don't worry. After you're dead, I'll burn a couple extra paper offerings for you."

In that moment, despair swallowed me whole. Hatred coiled around my heart so tight I couldn't breathe.

It should have been a joyous New Year, a time for family reunions and celebration.

Instead, my family was destroyed. I died with my eyes open, drowning in grief and rage.

I prayed countless timesif I ever got another chance, I would make him pay in blood.

I would make him suffer every ounce of pain he inflicted on me and my parents.

Brent Fleming, heaven must be watchingbecause it actually gave me that chance.

You wanted to force me into calling off the wedding first?

Not this time.

This time, I won't be walking into your trap.

You'll be falling into mine.

I was going to make him taste itthe bitter flavor of being framed, ruined, stripped of everything.

Every ounce of pain and humiliation he'd heaped on me and my parents in my last life? I'd repay it a hundredfold. A thousandfold.

I pulled out my phone and recorded Brent with the club girl, capturing every damning second of their passionate display.

Then I opened my chat with Claude Whitney and sent him the video, along with a single message:

"The Crown Bar. I need him unable to attend the wedding tomorrow."

His reply came instantly:

"For real? Don't you dare go soft on meI've been itching to mess this guy up!"

I sent him a thank-you sticker.

In my previous life, Brent had destroyed everything I loved. My family, shattered. Me, dead in a mental asylum.

Claude was the one who collected our bodies. Who gave us proper burials.

Later, when he tried to get justice for us, Brent framed him too. Eight years in prison.

I'd always known how Claude felt about me. But I'd been blinded by Brent's false love, and I'd thrown away someone who was real.

Less than half an hour later, Claude and his crew had Brent surrounded.

Someone shoutedloud enough for the whole street to hear:

"The hell? You think you can touch a girl I've got my eye on? Boys, teach this bastard a lesson!"

Brent's face went white. He shoved the girl aside and tried to run, but Claude's guys dragged him into an alley with no cameras.

Then came the soundsBrent's pathetic struggles, his agonized howls as fists connected with flesh.

When the timing felt right, I rushed over to play my part: the devoted fiance saving her man.

Claude knew I was getting married. He'd kept his distance out of respect.

And I'd never once mentioned him to Brent. Not a word about my childhood friend.

"Stop! Stop hitting him!"

I screamed as I ran, throwing myself between Brent and the fists.

Claude spotted me and let out a low whistle, playing along perfectly. His voice dripped with mock amusement:

"Well, well. Didn't realize this loser had so many side pieces. Lucky bastard."

I glared at him, voice sharp with feigned outrage:

"Watch your mouth! He's my fiancwe're getting married tomorrow!"

"Sweetheart, hate to break it to you, but he was just with that club girl, doing"

Claude dragged out the words, pretending he was about to expose everything.

"Shut up! We love each other. I won't let you poison us with your lies!"

I pulled out my phone and made a show of dialing the police.

The call was fake, of course.

Claude cursed theatrically, then signaled his crew to scatter.

Brent lay crumpled on the ground. His face had swollen into something unrecognizable, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His leg bent at an angle that made my stomach turnin the best possible way.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. His whole body trembled with pain.

A twisted satisfaction flickered through me.

But my expression? Pure concern.

"Brent, are you okay? Talk to me! I'm taking you to the hospital right now!"

After surgery, Brent lay immobile in the hospital bed.

He grabbed my hand, voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you for believing in me."

I pulled my hand freeslowly, so he wouldn't notice the revulsionand kept my tone gentle:

"Silly. Who else would I believe? Those heartless thugs?"

I let out a carefully crafted sigh, letting disappointment cloud my features.

"It's just... with your leg like this, we'll have to postpone the wedding..."

Brent's expression darkened.

Not because he mourned our delayed union. Nohe was furious that he couldn't swindle my money in time for the holidays.

I laughed inside, cold and sharp. But outwardly, I remained the picture of devotion:

"Don't worry. I'll make sure every single one of those men ends up behind bars. They'll pay for what they did to you."

The moment I left, I sent Claude a red envelopesixty-six hundred dollars.

"Treat the boys to something nice."

Then I turned to Brent and said:

"Let me tell you something that'll cheer you up. My parents have prepared a million dollars in cash as my dowry. As soon as you're better, we'll get married right away."

Brent's pained expression froze instantly. His eyes lit up with sudden intensity as he pressed eagerly:

"Really? Mira, are you serious? A million dollars in cash as a dowry?"

"Of course. You showed your sincerity with that gold jewelryhow could I possibly lie to you?"

My voice grew even softer, though my eyes remained ice-cold beneath the warmth:

"And that's not all. My father said he's giving you thirty percent of our family company's shares."

"As long as you treat me well, everything my family owns will be yours someday."

Brent couldn't hide his excitement. He grabbed my hand again, his tone eager and fawning:

"Baby, my leg is finereally, it's nothing! The wedding can go ahead tomorrow as planned!"

I paused for a moment, then reached out to gently stroke his badly swollen cheek, my voice dripping with "concern":

"I know you want to marry me right away, and I want nothing more than to be your wife. But I can't ignore your condition."

"Tomorrow, when my parents come to visit, I'll coax them into handing over the million-dollar dowry to you first."

"As for the shareswe'll present those at the wedding, in front of all the guests. Think how impressive that will be."

Only then did Brent relax:

"Mira, you're so good to me! I swear I'll never let you down!"

Early the next morning, Marilyn Fleming was already hovering by the hospital room door, her eyes fixed on the entrance with naked anticipation.

In my previous life, when my entire family was being torn apart online, she had been right there fanning the flames and directing the mob.

I would settle every last debt with her.

It wasn't until eleven that my parents finally arrived, pulling two large suitcases behind them.

A videographer from the wedding company followed, filming everything in silence.

My father smiled apologetically:

"Sorry for the waitwithdrawing that much cash from the bank took longer than expected."

"Today was supposed to be the children's wedding day. Since Brent isn't well enough to attend, we shouldn't let an auspicious date go to waste. We'll handle the formalities privately today and hold the ceremony properly another time."

My mother stepped forward with a warm smile and slowly unzipped one of the suitcases.

A mountain of red-wrapped cash filled the interior, stacked high and dense. Each bundle was tied with a red cord knotted in an elaborate patternfestive and striking.

Brent and Marilyn stared, their eyes going round, their mouths stretching into greedy grins.

Then my mother opened the second suitcase. Inside, arranged with perfect precision, lay the gold jewelry Brent's family had sent as betrothal gifts.

At the sight of the gold, Brent and his mother exchanged a glance. Something strange flickered across their faces.

But it vanished in an instant.

My mother continued warmly:

"This is the million-dollar cash dowry we've prepared for Miranda, along with your family's gold betrothal giftsall of it's here."

"We're handing everything over to the young couple today, to give their new household a solid foundation."

Brent waved his hands hastily, even switching to a more familiar address:

"Mom, that gold was our gift to Mira. There's no need to bring it back."

I saw right through his little scheme.

He wanted the gold to stay in my possession so he could later accuse me of swapping it for fakes.

But my mother shook her head:

"That won't do. Since it was given to Miranda, it belongs to both of you now. It should stay in your home together."

"Besides, we'll need to display it again at the wedding ceremony. We're getting olderour hands aren't as steady as they used to be. It would be terrible if we accidentally damaged something."

I hurried forward, tugging at Brent's sleeve as I urged him on.

"Brent, Mom's right. This is all our property nowof course we should keep it ourselves. It'll be much more convenient when we need it."

I gave his arm another nudge. "Go on, check if the cash and gold are all there. If everything's in order, we should take it home. It's not safe leaving it at the hospital."

Brent glanced at the withdrawal slip, then flipped through the stack of cash with undisguised relish. As for the gold jewelry they'd given as betrothal gifts, he barely looked before nodding.

"Yes, it's all here. Perfect! Thank you so much for going to all this trouble."

With a lovesick only daughter like metheir family's sole heirready to be devoured, why would they bother fighting over a measly $620,000 settlement?

I suggested that our whole family escort his mother home to deliver the dowry and betrothal gifts together, recording the entire process as before.

Marilyn nodded eagerly, her face splitting into a grin so wide it looked painful.

Only when I watched her lock the million dollars in cash and 520 grams of gold into the safe with my own eyes did I finally let out a quiet breath of relief.

That ticking time bomb was finally out of my hands.

The Caregiver bait was set. I just had one more thing to do.

Over the next three days, I devoted myself to caring for Brent at the hospitalthe very picture of a woman so deeply in love she'd sacrifice anything for him.

On the evening of the third day, I told him with a face full of reluctance that I had to go on a business trip. There was an important project I needed to negotiate, one that would determine my father's company profits for the coming year.

If things went smoothly, I'd be back early to celebrate the New Year with him.

If not, I might not return until after the holiday.

I paused, letting my eyes redden on cue.

"Don't worry. When I get back, even if you're still in a wheelchair, I'm going to marry you."

Watching methis lovesick fool who was utterly devoted to hima flicker of barely concealed glee passed through Brent's eyes.

Having lived this life once before, I knew exactly what he was. He only pretended to love me.

Deep down, he was rotten to the core.

Even with a broken leg, stuck in a hospital bed, he couldn't keep still. Every day he was secretly scrolling through his phone, hunting for his next prey.

So before I took my parents to a warm coastal city for our Spring Festival vacation, I spent a small fortune finding him a very special caregiver.

I guaranteed she would take excellent care of him. Thorough and attentive.

Last time around, my family was destroyed during the New Year.

This time, I would never let that tragedy repeat itself.

On New Year's Eve, my parents and I sat in a seaside restaurant, sharing a steaming hot local feast.

I was overwhelmed with gratitudegrateful that they trusted me unconditionally, that they'd gone along with my plan to punish this scumbag.

The new year passed in the blink of an eye, and as promised, I returned to complete the wedding with Brent.

On the day of the ceremony, my parents had booked the most luxurious hotel in the city. Red lanterns and silk banners hung everywhere, the atmosphere festive and grand.

Brent sat in his wheelchair, dressed in a sharp suit, beaming with satisfaction.

Behind him, a million dollars in cash was stacked into a small mountain. The 520 grams of gold had been artfully arranged into a heart shape, impossible to miss.

The Fleming relatives crowded around, green with envy, falling over themselves to congratulate Brent on his good fortune.

Brent basked in their flattery, the smug smile on his face growing wider by the minute.

As if he could already see himself holding my family's wealth, living like a king.

The ceremony proceeded smoothly. Just as we were about to exchange rings, the banquet hall doors burst open.

A woman stormed inhair wild, face twisted with rage.

She charged straight at Brent and slapped him hard across the face.

She hurled a medical report at him, her whole body shaking as she jabbed a finger in his direction and screamed:

"Brent Fleming! You animal! You lying piece of trash! You knew you had an STDwhy did you have to drag me down with you?!"

The moment those words left her mouth, the entire hall plunged into deathly silence.

Only I stood there, a cryptic smile slowly curving my lips.

This woman was none other than the special nurse I'd arranged for Brent.

Every guest was stunned.

The Fleming relatives especiallytheir faces a mixture of disbelief and barely concealed schadenfreude as whispers rippled through the crowd.

Brent trembled with rage, his face ashen. He glared at the woman with murderous eyes and snarled:

"What the hell are you talking about? Who has a disease? You're insane! Get out! Don't you dare ruin this for me!"

I feigned panic as I snatched the medical report from the floor. One glance, and my face drained of color.

My voice shook with fear and devastation as I cried out:

"II'm calling off the wedding! Brent, I want out!"