After being reborn, I made my greedy uncle kneel and beg for mercy

My mom, always so serene and detached, often said her biggest regret was marrying my nouveau riche dad. When they divorced, I chose my elegant, seemingly non-materialistic mom.

Turns out, “elegant” meant I got scolded for eating well, slapped for wearing nice clothes, and berated for wanting my room back from my mooching aunt, uncle, and cousin. "Just like your low-class father," she’d sneer, "obsessed with material possessions. Disgusting!"

Later, when my uncle racked up massive gambling debts and tried to sell me for his organs, I begged Mom to save me. She just frowned. "He's your uncle. What's wrong with helping him out? Don't be selfish like your father, always thinking about money."

I died on an operating table, hollowed out. Then, I woke up. Back to the moment my parents asked who I wanted to live with.

1

"It's just a little money! My brother needed a house for his wedding, so I gave him a villa. What's the big deal? Money is just a thing!" My mom shrieked. "You only care about money! You reek of new money. That's the difference between real wealth and… well, you. Your bankruptcy proves it! We’re getting a divorce! I can’t even communicate with you!"

Dad clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. "Fine, divorce. But that villa was my last property. It was supposed to be Chloe's dowry. You need to get it back."

Mom acted like he’d suggested something truly appalling, closing her eyes for a dramatic pause. Finally, they both looked at me. "Chloe, this is happening because of you. Choose who you want to live with.”

Mom effortlessly shifted the blame, but Dad just ruffled my hair. "It has nothing to do with her. It’s your actions that led to this.”

It was the same scene as last time. Mom, serenely perched on the sofa, radiating indifference. Dad, pacing furiously. Before, I'd seen Mom as calm and reasonable. I'd chosen her without hesitation. A year of living with her had revealed the truth: Dad’s anger was a direct response to her manipulations.

Remembering my gruesome fate, I walked straight to my dad. "Dad, I want to be with you."

The anger drained from his face, replaced by surprise. Mom barely glanced my way, then resumed her detached pose. "Like father, like daughter. Fine. You’re both shallow, obsessed with money. You'll never understand the virtue of being above such things."

Dad covered my ears, protecting me from the poison. "Since Chloe’s coming with me, you need to return that villa. As for the rest of our assets, I'll have my lawyers contact you."

I pulled Dad’s hand away and looked at Mom. "Would someone so ‘above money’ even care about a mere house?”

A flicker of something – annoyance? – crossed her face before she smoothed it over. She was committed to this performance. "Fine. I’ll leave with nothing. You’ll never understand true elegance."

She swept upstairs, packed a small bag, and left. “I hope you don’t become…corrupted,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

I laughed. This was corrupted? I hoped she wo...