After Rebirth, I Outplayed My Manipulative Older Sister Chapter 02
“This is Georgia, your sister. She’ll live with us from now on.”
The orange was still in my hand, half-peeled.
I looked at the timid girl by the door and grinned.
“Georgia!” My tone was bright and sweet. “You’re finally here! I saved something nice for you!”
I trotted over and took her hand warmly.
She flinched instinctively, but didn’t dare pull away in front of Dad.
I led her into the bedroom and pointed at the closet. “I cleared half the closet just for you! We’ll split the desk too. Do you want the side by the window or the inside of the bed? Actually, you should take the inside. I don’t want you rolling off in the middle of the night.”
She stared at me, stunned. “Cora…”
“Don’t even mention it.” I waved my hand like it was nothing. “From now on, you’re my real sister. And if anyone in this family so much as gives you a dirty look, I’ll be the first one to shut it down.”
Mom coughed in the living room.
I walked out, pulled her into the kitchen, and lowered my voice. “Look, Mom. Long game, this is still our house. But not right now. If you go head-to-head with her, Dad’s going to take her side. And the neighbors? They’ll call you the wicked stepmother type. Not worth it.”
Mom froze.
In my past life, I’d been the hot-headed one, fighting even harder than her.
And what had happened?
Dad threatened divorce. He said this family had no room for his daughter, and he’d take his daughter and leave.
In the end, I was the one who caved. And somehow, I ended up being the bad guy to everyone.
Reborn, I finally understood.
A sharp blade kills, but you pay with your life.
But a soft blade? That’s what cuts the soul.
Georgia moved in.
In those first few days, she tiptoed around the house, spoke little, moved lightly, and every morning she rose twenty minutes earlier than I did to tidy up and help with the housework.
I pretended not to notice.
Until that weekend, when Dad was home for dinner for once.
Mom cooked a whole table of food.
But Georgia only took a bite of the salad and ate most of her white bread.
Dad looked at her, “Why aren’t you eating meat?”
She shook her head softly. “My stomach’s upset. I prefer light food.”
Dad’s face darkened.
I knew what he was thinking.
This girl had suffered so much outside that she didn’t even dare eat meat.
In my past life, I’d been gnawing on ribs loudly, muttering “so dramatic,” and got scolded for it, my allowance cut for two weeks.
This time, I set down my cutlery.
My eyes turned red.
“Georgia, do you think you don’t belong here?” My voice shook. “Are you scared to take food because I’m here?”
Georgia froze.
Dad froze, too.
I wiped my tears and raised my voice. “Dad! Look at her! She doesn’t even dare eat meat here, only a bite of salad! She must have been through so much out there to have become this careful and timid.”
Georgia opened her mouth. “That’s not it, Cora…”
“Of course it is!” I sobbed, piling ribs and salmon onto her plate. “You’re only three months older than me and you’re my sister! And if you save all the meat for me, how am I supposed to swallow a single bite?”
Mom looked up at me, her eyes saying one thing—Have you lost your mind?
I winked at her.
The next second, I burst into tears.
Not loud wailing, but the kind of cry where your face turns bright red, big tears stream down, and your lips tremble.
“Dad… Georgia’s so pitiful… Look how thin she is, look at her hands…”
Her hands were indeed rough, knuckles prominent—not like a sixteen-year-old girl’s hands.
Dad’s expression softened.
He probably never expected his fiery youngest daughter to be so compassionate, to care so much for the eldest he’d neglected for over a decade.
He fell silent for a moment, then put a piece of meat on Georgia’s plate. “Eat. There’s plenty.”
Georgia stared at the meat in her plate, her lips twitching, and ate it.
I knew she was upset inside.
She’d planned to win sympathy by playing the wronged victim.
But I’d stolen her script.
Once her victim act gets stolen, how’s she supposed to stay the leading lady?
