Reborn With a Winning Ticket I Exposed the Copycat Who Ruined MeChapter 1
Eighty million dollars. The moment I won the state lottery, I dropped out of the National Web Novel Contest.
Geoffrey Harrington heard about it within the hour and came to find me—a whole crowd in tow, grinning like it was a show.
"Running away before the battle even starts? Is this how you repay your professors and everyone who believed in you?"
"Or maybe there's something wrong with your entry, and you're scared the judges will find out?"
In my last life, Geoffrey Harrington submitted a contest entry identical to mine.
I racked my brain and still couldn't figure out how it happened.
I asked my editor, Clementine Simmons, who'd been feeding me story inspiration, and Clara Dickerson, my childhood sweetheart who was with me every day, to help clear my name.
Instead, they sided with Geoffrey and framed me.
With no way to prove my innocence, I was branded a plagiarist.
The school expelled me. Then the penalty bills came—breach of contract, damages, numbers I couldn't even process.
My mother went door to door trying to clear my name, and the internet turned on her for it—thousands of strangers tearing her apart until she collapsed overnight.
Every blow landed on the last one's bruise, and somewhere in the middle I stopped feeling any of it.
To stop dragging my family down with me, I climbed to the rooftop and stepped off the edge.
I never expected heaven to give me a second chance.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the eve of the contest.
……
Right now I was sitting at my desk, staring at the writing materials Clementine had gotten through her connections at the publishing house.
She'd signed to me with total confidence: just follow this outline, and I could take first place.
"Doug, you working on that material I brought you? I made your favorite braised ribs—come eat something first, then you can get back to it."
"You haven't had a single thing all day."
Clementine signed the words at me, her whole face soft with concern.
That was when Clara pushed the door open.
She handed me a box, her voice warm with concern.
"I heard your shoulder's been bothering you lately. This massager should help you relax a little."
Right. Of course. Exactly the same scene as last time.
In my previous life, the contest entry I submitted turned out to be identical to Geoffrey Harrington's, word for word.