Reborn on New Year's Eve My Family Sold Me for Revenge

On New Year's Eve, Vivian came up with a grotesque plan: she wanted to press Grandmother Henson's ashes into a set of dice. Her reasoning? To provide ancestral guidance for her indecisive son, Ryan.

In my previous life, I intervened immediately. I warned her that relying on the dead would only encourage Ryan's spineless nature. Under my intense persuasion, Vivian reluctantly abandoned the idea.

But as Ryan grew up, he hit wall after wall in his career. Meanwhile, Daisy, the neighbor's daughterwhose mother had actually turned her own parent's ashes into dicesoared through the corporate ranks, supposedly guided by spirits to become a top executive.

Vivian blamed me for every failure.

"It's all your fault, Alice! You stopped me from making those dice. If you hadn't interfered, Grandmother Henson's spirit would have guided Ryan to wealth and power long ago!"

Consumed by misplaced rage, my nephew's face turned a violent crimson. He snatched a shovel from the yard and swung it with all his might. The metal blade struck the back of my head, shattering my skull on that desolate mountain ridge.

My death wasn't enough. To protect Ryan, my brother and Vivian conspired with our parents. They painted my murder as a suicide, claiming I had taken my own life after a shameful affair.

When I opened my eyes again, the stench of blood and the phantom pain in my skull vanished.

I was back.

I had returned to that fateful New Year's Evethe very moment Vivian proposed desecrating Grandmother Henson's remains.

"Vivian, why did you bring Grandmother Henson's ashes home? That's incredibly bad luck!"

My brother's voice pulled me from my daze. The familiar scene confirmed it: I had been reborn.

Vivian's voice cut through the room like a serrated knife. "What do you know? Grandmother Henson loved Ryan more than anyone when she was alive. Once I press her ashes into dice, Ryan can toss them whenever he's stuck. His great-grandmother will make the choices for him."

Her eyes gleamed with fanatic light. "Besides, Ryan has a weak constitution. If he gets sick, I can soak the dice in water to make bone-ash soup. It will bless him!"

My brother choked on his tea, visibly disturbed. He turned to me, his expression pleading.

"Alice, you're the only college graduate in the family. Talk some sense into her."

I sat silently, my gaze drifting to the corner of the room. My ten-year-old nephew was busy sweeping my expensive cosmetics off the vanity, smashing bottles onto the floor with a bratty grin.

In my past life, this was the moment I stepped in.

Back then, I had rushed forward to stop Vivian. I explained, using my medical background, that Grandmother Henson had been exposed to heavy metals during her life. I warned them that the dust from the ashes would trigger Ryan's asthma and that feeding a child "bone soup" was dangerous insanity.

For Ryan's sake, I had lectured them on the dangers of feudal superstition and urged them to raise him with independence. Later, I even used every connection I had to force that incompetent, lazy man into a high-paying job.

And how did they repay me?

They treated my kindness like garbage.

When they saw Daisy's success next doorattributed entirely to her "spirit dice"and compared it to Ryan's mediocrity, their resentment festered. Ryan, at thirty, was still a low-level employee, unmarried and broke.

The accusations began.

"If it weren't for you stopping me back then, my son would be the rich one now!"

"She's just jealous," my mother had sneered. "She can't stand to see Ryan do well. She stole his luck!"

The memory of my final moments flashed before my eyes. Vivian, standing over my broken body, spitting on my corpse.

"So what if you went to college? You think you're so high and mighty? If you hadn't stopped me, my son wouldn't be poor and alone! You deserved to die!"

And Ryanthe boy I tried to savescreaming as he brought the shovel down again and again.

"It's your fault! You ruined my life! You made me work like a dog! Go to hell!"

I died alone on that cold ridge, my soul lingering just long enough to watch my family weave a story about me eloping with some wild man and killing myself in shame.

I forced the bile back down my throat. The hatred burning in my chest was cold and hard as ice.

God had given me a second chance. This time, I wouldn't be their savior.

I would be a spectator.

I unclenched my fists and smoothed my expression into a mask of indifference. I would not save them again. I would sit back and watch them walk the path of destruction they so desperately craved.

"Alice, are you deaf?" My brother snapped, craning his neck to glare at me. "I asked you a question. Vivian pressing the ashes into dice and soaking them in waterwhat do you think?"

I offered a practiced, empty smile. "Bro, I've seen people do similar things online. But whether it brings good luck or bad? I really couldn't say."

My lack of endorsement earned me scowls from both him and Vivian.

I ignored their hostility, crouching to organize the cosmetics my nephew had scattered across the floor. I wasn't about to give them the validation they wanted. If this ritual went south, they'd only look for a scapegoatand I refused to be it.

Mom and Dad shuffled in behind me, sneering at my hesitation.

"Why bother asking her?" Dad scoffed. "You know how she is. Aside from reading a few books, she's useless. Since when does she get a say in family matters?"

"Exactly," Mom chimed in. "Your grandmother cared about us most. It makes sense she'd send us signs from the other side."

A chill settled in my gut.

To them, my brother's unit was the only real family. I was just inventorya resource to be sold off once I'd served my purpose. Despite my grades bringing honor to the family name, I remained nothing more than a "wasted investment" in their eyes.

In my past life, I had poured every cent into this house, desperate for a crumb of affection. In return, they buried my battered body and slandered my name, claiming I died over a boy.

The memory made my blood boil. My fingers curled into fists.

You want to turn Grandmother into dice? Fine. Go ahead.

Just as I resolved to let them ruin themselves, sharp pain radiated up my arm. Mom's fingers dug into my flesh, twisting hard.

"You wretched girl, stop standing there! Go get the mold for Vivian!" she barked. "Our fortune depends on Grandmother's guidance. The dead know everything. Once we're rich, we won't have to worry about a thing."

I hissed through my teeth, ignoring the stinging welt forming on my skin. Instead, I plastered on a greedy grin, rubbing my hands together theatrically.

"Is Grandmother really that powerful? Then I want a die made from her ashes, too. I'll need some supernatural help getting rich after graduation."

Vivian's face hardened instantly.

She clutched the urn to her chest, shooting a frantic look at my brother. He caught the signal immediately, digging into his pocket and tossing a crumpled three-dollar bill at me.

"Alice, stop causing trouble. Go to town and buy some fireworks for tonight. Now."

I glanced at Vivian, guarding the ashes like a dragon with its hoard. They were terrified I'd steal their luck.

Suppressing a cold laugh, I snatched the money, feigned disappointment, and stormed out, slamming the door behind me.

But I didn't stop watching.

As I walked down the road, I pulled out my phone, eyes glued to the living room surveillance feed. On screen, Vivian beckoned my nephew over.

"Ryan, come here. Come get some of Grandmother's blessing."

I nearly stopped walking. In her obsession with superstition, she'd conveniently forgotten her own son's severe asthma.

When Ryan had his first attack years ago, I'd begged them to take him to a specialist. Vivian had only screamed at me, blaming me for feeding him "dirty" osmanthus cakeignoring the fact that he'd begged for it.

"My son's cough is your fault!" she'd shrieked.

My concern had been met with venom. Now, as I watched her hand him the ash-filled mold, I felt nothing but dark, icy anticipation.

The ceiling fan whirred overhead, slicing through the stagnant air.

Just as I predicted, a sudden gust swept through the room, scattering the fine grey powder of Grandmother Henson's ashes. Ryan inhaled sharply. In an instant, his face went from pale to a suffocated purple. He dropped to a crouch, clawing at his throat, gasping for oxygen that wouldn't come.

Panic erupted in the living room.

Vivian shrieked, rushing over to pound on her son's back. "My baby! Ryan, say something!"

I stood outside a convenience store miles away, unwrapping a vanilla cone. The cold sweetness hit my tongue as I watched the chaos unfold on my phone screen. A farce, and I had a front-row seat.

My family swarmed around Ryan like headless chickens. My brother reached for his phone, hands shaking. "I'm calling an ambulance."

"No!" Vivian slapped his hand away. "We need to ask Grandmother first."

Mom chimed in, voice shrill. "Exactly. Hospitals just steal our money. I have a folk remedy. If the dice show a three, we treat him here."

Ryan had collapsed to the floor. His face darkened to a terrifying crimson, his chest heaving in silent spasms. While the boy fought for air, his family debated his fate with bone dice.

Absurd.

Vivian scrambled toward the dice, desperation etched into her features. "Please, Grandmother. Tell us what to do."

She cast the bones.

A three.

Relief washed over them. Following the oracle's command, my brother hoisted Ryan onto his back and carried him to the yard. But Ryan's struggle was visibly weakening.

Vivian forced a thick, dark herbal concoction down the boy's throat. Instead of helping, it triggered a violent convulsion. Ryan gagged, then retched, splattering bright red blood onto the dirt.

Color drained from Vivian's face. Terror finally pierced through her delusion. "Call Alice!" she screamed. "She's a college student. She'll know what to do!"

My phone buzzed seconds later.

I slid the answer button to my ear. "Forget the fireworks!" my brother roared, voice trembling. "Get your ass back here. Ryan's asthma is acting up!"

I feigned shock. "What? Is he okay? You didn't let him near Grandmother's ashes, did you? That dust is"

"Shut up!" he cut me off. "Stop talking nonsense and fix this!"

I agreed and hung up.

I had zero intention of returning. They didn't want my expertise; they wanted a scapegoat. If I went back now, I'd be walking into a trap.

A smile tugged at my lips as I looked back at the screen. Ryan's movements were sluggish now. His chest barely rose.

Vivian was hysterical, shaking the dice again and again, begging the dead for an answer that wouldn't come. Finally, she broke. "Call 911!" she wailed. "Mom, call the ambulance!"

I watched their panic with a heart as cold as stone.

As a medical student, I knew the signs. Ryan was past the point of no return.

In my previous life, I had given everything to save him. Every connection, every dimeI secured him a future despite his vile attitude. His repayment? He beat me to death with a shovel.

My gaze hardened on the dying boy in the pixelated video.

You made your choice. Now rot in it.

I took a taxi straight to the hospital.

When I arrived at the emergency ward, my family's wails were already echoing down the corridor. James and my parents were crying hysterically. I forced two tears from my eyes, masking my indifference with a performance of panic as I ran toward them.

"How is Ryan? What happened? Why did he have an attack?"

James glared at me, his eyes red and wild. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I"

His hand connected with my face before I could finish. Snap.

The force threw my head sideways. A metallic taste filled my mouth as blood trickled from my lip, but I bit down to stifle the urge to fight back.

James grabbed my shoulders, shaking me violently. "I called you ages ago! Why are you only showing up now? Did you do this on purpose, Alice?"

He shoved me back. "You know the only reason Mom and Dad paid for your college was because Ryan has asthma! We let you study medicine for him! And now, when he needs you, you're useless! All that money, wasted on a piece of trash like you!"

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and kept my expression pitiful. "Brother, I didn't... You told me to take the bus to the county to buy fireworks. I was already on the bus when you called."

I sniffled loudly, wiping my eyes. "I got off halfway and ran back as fast as I could..."

Vivian cut me off, her voice shrill. "Shut up! Your crying is giving me a headache. Ryan is fighting for his life in there. If anything happens to him, I'll settle the score with you later!"

The light above the operating room doors flickered off.

The silence that followed was suffocating. The doctor emerged, pulling off his mask with a grim expression. He let out a long, heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry. We did everything we could."