His Betrayal, Her Rebirth

My career as a marketing strategist was unstoppable.

Then Chloe Davis walked in, a new hire with a smile too bright and a chilling claim: "I'm a reborn person."

She started "predicting" disasters-a major client product failure, a restaurant fire-events that strangely came true, catapulting her to prophet status.

Suddenly, my data-driven expertise meant nothing.

My promotion, the one I had earned, was given to Chloe.

When I confided in my boyfriend and colleague, Mark, about resigning, he looked at me with cold eyes: "Mr. Thompson will think you' re a flight risk. That you' re bitter."

The next day, as I prepared to quit, Mr. Thompson confronted me with fake emails, expertly crafted by Mark, showing me colluding with our biggest rival.

My resignation was refused; instead, I was publicly demoted to administrative duties, stripped of my dignity.

Mark, my supposed partner, stood by Chloe, a triumphant smirk on his face.

The humiliation was a physical weight, pushing me to the brink.

In my previous life, consumed by despair, I took my own life on the marble steps of the agency that had once been my dream.

But then, my eyes snapped open.

I was back in the conference room, listening to Chloe's chilling introduction: "I'm a reborn person."

This time, I wasn't going to be a victim.