After Rebirth, I Outplayed My Manipulative Older Sister Chapter 09

After Rebirth, I Outplayed My Manipulative Older Sister Chapter 09

When I turned twenty–eight, Dad asked me out for 

dinner. 

He said he’d been learning to cook at the senior 

center and wanted me to try his handiwork. I 

hesitated for a few seconds, then agreed. 

It was a small one–bedroom apartment near the senior center, neat and tidy. A family photo hung 

on the living room wall–taken when I was six, 

Mom holding me, him standing beside us. 

Three people. 

No Georgia. 

I walked in, and six dishes were already on the 

table. 

All my favorite foods from childhood. 

His hair was mostly white, his back slightly 

hunched, oil spots on his hands. 

His fingers trembled as he served me food. 

I’d never seen him do that before. Back then, it had 

always been Georgia he fed. 

“Dad, what do you want?” 

He ladled a bowl of soup for me, hesitated a long 

time, then spoke, his voice hoarse. “Your sister… 

Georgia… she’s been having a hard time lately.” 

I set down my cutlery. 

“The bank downsized last year and let her go. She 

got divorced, and the kid’s with her. Her 

ex–husband said she was emotionally unstable, 

sued for custody, and she lost. She only got an old 

house.” 

“Now she’s out of work, the kid needs school 

money, the mortgage’s due…” He spoke slowly, 

choosing each word carefully. “She called, said 

she needs some money to get by.” 

I said nothing. 

“She didn’t come to you. She knows you have. 

issues with her. But I’m an old man–my pension 

only goes so far… Your mom’s savings were gone 

early, and most of it went to her anyway… So…” 

“So you came to me.” 

He wouldn’t meet my eyes, stirring his food without picking anything up. 

Looking at his white hair, I felt no sympathy–only 

a strange, quiet feeling. 

Relief. 

In my past life, I’d washed dishes in the kitchen my 

whole life, only to be called “the useless one.” 

When I died, they’d only cared who would take. 

care of Georgia. He’d treated me like a tool, one 

meant to serve his favorite daughter. 

Now the tool had risen. 

Sitting at the head of the table, waiting for him to 

beg for money. 

This was karma. 

“I can help.” 

He looked up sharply. 

“But I have three conditions.“