Chapter Four: Prince and Problems
If life had a remote control, Celia would've hit the pause button right then and there….she was tired fed up even
Prince , city's golden bachelor, son of a billionaire, walking Greek statue—was leaning so close she could count his eyelashes. And worse, he was talking like he knew her …"damn" she whispered
Don't panic, she told herself. Just channel Beverly. Rich girls always look like they know everything, even when they can't spell 'entrepreneur.'
So she smirked. "Dying? Please. If I actually died, heaven wouldn't let me back out. They'd keep me just to spite you."she smirked
The table of fake friends gasped again. They were practically choking on their overpriced croissants "hahahahahaha" she almost peed her pants
But Prince?
Prince's eyes glimmered with amusement. He tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle. "You've changed…a lot"
No kidding. She'd literally reincarnated
"I'll take that as a compliment," she said coolly, sipping her mimosa. She hoped her hand wasn't shaking…. They were
He chuckled, deep and smooth, then straightened up. "Don't disappear again, Beverly. Some of us actually notice."
With that, he left—like he hadn't just turned her entire life upside down
⸻
The table exploded the moment he was gone.
"Oh my God, Bev, what was THAT?!"
"Why did he talk to you like that?!"
"You guys used to date, didn't you?!"
Celia blinked. "We… what?"
The blonde leaned forward eagerly. "Don't play dumb. Everyone knows Prince chased you last year. You were his little obsession."
"Until you rejected him," another added smugly. "Honestly, Bev, bold move. Who rejects Prince ?"
Apparently Beverly did, Celia thought, her mind spinning.
Rejected him? Past Beverly had rejected that? Either the girl was insane… or she was hiding something could be both
⸻
By the time brunch ended, Celia's cheeks hurt from fake smiling. She returned to Beverly's mansion determined to get answers.
The first thing she did was raid Beverly's phone.
The gallery was a nightmare: selfies, shopping hauls, thirst traps, more selfies. But buried deep in her private folder were photos—blurry, late-night, secretive—of Prince.
One of them was clearly taken while he was asleep.
Celia's jaw dropped. "Oh… ohhh, Beverly, you messy queen."
She scrolled further and found messages—half-deleted threads between Beverly and Prince. Some were flirty. Others were explosive. One simply read:
PRINCE: You'll regret this.
Celia sat back, heart pounding.
So Beverly had history with him. Complicated history.
And now she, Celia, had inherited it.
⸻
That night, she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned on silk sheets, mind racing.
Why had she reincarnated here, in Beverly's body? Why not some innocent girl's life, or even just her old one?
And why did Prince, of all people, act like he was part of this story?
As she drifted off, a strange dream overtook her.
She was standing in front of a mirror. But instead of her reflection, she saw Beverly—smirking, eyes glinting.
"Enjoying my life?" Beverly's voice purred.
Celia froze. "Wait. You're… you're still here?"
The reflection leaned closer, whispering.
"Just remember, darling… what's mine doesn't let go so easily. Especially him."
The mirror cracked.
Celia woke up gasping, heart hammering.