Chapter 2

After my rebirth, the very first thing I did was open my banking app.

Unsurprisingly, my balance was exactly $50.

I quickly pieced my thoughts together. At this moment, my hard-earned money had already been transferred to Chloe’s card through whatever sick method she was using.

I wanted to rip her throat out. But in my past life, after my suicide, I saw my parents' hair turn white overnight with grief. I regretted it instantly.

If I acted impulsively like before, I would only ruin my life again.

Just then, my manager, Sarah Miller, called me over.

"Ava, this new listing is a tough nut to crack, but the commission is a sweet five grand! Don’t say I never look out for you!"

My throat tightened. I swallowed hard, almost on instinct.

Five thousand dollars. That was enough to cover my Manhattan rent and leave me with plenty of pocket money.

But I forced myself to shake my head.

"Thanks, Sarah. But for the next month, I’m taking a break from taking new clients."

Ignoring Sarah’s bewildered expression, I turned and walked out of her glass office.

The office partitions were thin, and everyone outside had already heard.

Instantly, whispers erupted.

"Isn’t Ava Vance the top sales agent in the whole company? They call her the 'Deal Machine.' Why is she turning down a client?"

"Not just today. Didn't you hear her? She’s taking a whole month off!"

Ignoring the gossip, I pulled out my phone, opened UberEats, and ordered the largest iced Americano. It wiped out the last $50 from my account.

In my past life, I wouldn't even spend $4 on gas station coffee.

To survive in a cutthroat city like New York, I had practically chained my life to my desk.

I worked until 3 AM making cold calls, got up before dawn, and squeezed myself into the subway like a canned sardine for a two-hour commute just to clock in on time.

One minute late meant a $50 deduction.

That was my food budget for an entire week.

My dream was to own a home near the office, even if it was just a tiny 300-square-foot studio.

Every month when my commission hit, I kept only $300 for basic groceries.

The rest went straight into my savings.

Yet, the $50,000 I nearly died saving had ended up in someone else's designer bag!

Right then, the glass doors of the office were pushed open.

"Hey guys! Lunch is on me today!"

Chloe’s loud, obnoxious voice echoed through the room.

Her face was glowing, and she was flaunting a brand-new Chanel handbag, looking like a trailer-trash lottery winner trying to act rich.

"We’re going to the Grand Imperial Hotel! Order whatever you want!"

The office erupted. Colleagues swarmed her instantly.

"Chloe! Did you hit the jackpot?"

"Did you find yourself a sugar daddy?"

I didn't move. I just sipped my coffee, my eyes cold as ice, staring at her.

Because I knew she was spending my money.

Surrounded by the crowd, Chloe waved her hands in mock modesty.

"Oh, stop it! I just bought a scratch-off ticket the other day and hit a small prize."

Someone immediately nudged her. "How much did you win?"