CAMILLE BERRY
16 Published Stories
CAMILLE BERRY's Books and Stories
His Proposal, Her Two Choices
Xuanhuan In my past life, a divine power offered my sister and me a choice between two life systems. Olivia, my older sister, eagerly chose the "Socialite Siren," while I was left with the "Independent Achiever," a system that demanded tireless, solitary effort.
Ten years later, I had achieved hard-won but lonely success as a tech startup founder, while Olivia, having manipulated her way through the city's elite, lay paralyzed after a brutal accident. Her resentment, however, burned brighter than ever, culminating in her stabbing me repeatedly in a hospital room.
My vision faded, only to snap open again. I was back at the moment of choice, the shimmering orbs presenting themselves once more. A cruel smile twisted Olivia's lips as she snatched the "Independent Achiever," believing she was taking the superior path and leaving me with the "leftovers."
She smirked. "Looks like you're stuck with the leftovers, Chloe. Good luck trying to charm your way through life. I'll be watching you fail."
This time, I almost laughed. After reliving the brutal isolation of the "Independent Achiever," I knew true independence wasn't about lonely hell. Olivia, blinded by greed and pride, had no idea I was finally free.
With profound relief, I touched the pink orb. "I choose the 'Socialite Siren' system." This time, I wouldn't be its prisoner; I'd change the rules completely. The Scapegoat Heiress's Grand Comeback
Modern I gave up my family's fortune and a political dynasty for my fiancé of five years, Hoyt. I chose him over everything for a simple life.
But when his socialite mistress, Bella, got a DUI, he demanded I take the fall. When I told him I was pregnant, he ordered me to get an abortion.
"I'm in love with Bella," he said, his eyes cold. "I always have been."
He brought her into our home. At a fundraiser, she tripped me, and as I lay bleeding on the floor, Hoyt walked away. His mother then had me abducted from the hospital, and in a cold, abandoned warehouse, I lost our child.
They took everything from me-my love, my future, my baby. They thought they had erased me, the quiet, unassuming grant writer they saw as a convenient scapegoat.
They were wrong.
At their glamorous engagement party, I made my entrance. And with me, my grandfather, Senator Abelardo Brown. They had no idea who they'd just declared war on. Broken Canvas, Unbroken Spirit Rises
Modern I had just sold my entire art collection, a massive sum that was supposed to be our new beginning. I couldn't wait to see the look on my husband Axel's face.
But when he walked through the door, he didn't see a successful artist. He saw a cheater.
"Who did you sleep with for that money?" he spat, his words fueled by his mother's poison.
His rage exploded. He tore my studio apart, shredding my life's work. Then he turned on me, kicking my pregnant belly until I miscarried our child on the floor of my ruined dreams.
As I lay there, bleeding and broken, a call came from the fertility clinic. The paternity test was positive. The baby he had just killed was his own.
He fell to his knees, sobbing and begging for forgiveness. But the man I married was gone. He had destroyed my art, my mother, and my child.
Now, it was my turn to destroy him. The Unwanted Mistress Becomes The Rival's Queen
Modern The moment Damien shoved me into a waiter's tray to catch his brother's widow, I knew I had lost.
For eight years, I was his sanctuary. But Vivian was carrying the "Family Heir," and that made her a saint.
He didn't just catch her; he moved her into the Master Suite—the room he had promised to me—while I was relegated to the guest wing like a servant.
When Vivian whispered the truth to me with a smirk—that her late husband was sterile and she had drugged Damien to fake the timeline—I rushed to tell him.
"She's lying about the baby, Damien! Aaron was sterile!"
But he didn't believe me.
"Enough of your jealousy, Estelle," he roared, shielding her. "You will respect the mother of my legacy."
To prove my submission, he forced me to take her wedding dress shopping.
When a heavy iron rack tipped over in the boutique, Damien moved with inhuman speed.
He dove to protect Vivian, wrapping her in a safe cocoon.
He left me standing there.
The metal crashed down, crushing my ribs and pinning me to the floor.
As I gasped for air, tasting blood, I watched him carry her out without looking back once.
I woke up in the hospital to the sound of him comforting her in the next room.
He hadn't even asked if I survived.
That night, I didn't cry.
I ripped the IV from my arm, shredded every photo of us in the penthouse, and boarded a plane to a neutral territory where the Don's power meant nothing.
By the time he found the engagement ring I left in the trash, I was already gone. Too Late For His Love
Billionaires I was the genius who built my husband Blake' s billion-dollar empire. For ten years, I was his secret weapon, the ghost in the machine who wrote the code that made him a king.
But when he fell for his doe-eyed intern, Cassidy, the man I loved became a monster.
He threatened to throw our five-year-old son from his private jet just to get her back.
But that was nothing. When Cassidy faked a fatal illness, he orchestrated a car crash that left me paralyzed on an operating table, my body a harvest ground for his new obsession.
I was awake but unable to move as they took my bone marrow. I heard him give the order: "Keep her alive. If this doesn't work, she has another kidney we can use."
He thought he had broken me, that I was just another asset to be parted out.
He forgot one thing: a genius always has a contingency plan.
I activated Project Chimera, an escape protocol I' d built years ago. As the military helicopter lifted off with my son and me, I gave my final order: "Wipe the servers. Burn the lab to the ground."
He could have his little bird. I was taking everything else. The Kidney He Gave, The Love She Denied
Modern I still remember the searing pain, trapped under twisted metal, watching my adoptive sister, Olivia, cradle her boyfriend, Noah, after our car crash. The paramedics arrived, and Olivia, without a second thought, chose to save him over me.
Her words, "Him. Save him," echoed the countless betrayals that chipped away at my soul. They pulled Noah free, and Olivia' s cold gaze met mine, chilling me: "Ethan, you' re a man. You can handle it." Then she was gone, leaving me in darkness, the pain pulling me under.
I woke in a hospital, paralyzed, framed as a reckless, drunk driver by Noah and Olivia. My adoptive parents, the Hayeses, looked at me with absolute disappointment. Olivia visited, offering false sympathy, then dropped a bombshell: Noah needed a kidney; I was a match. The same sister for whom I' d already sacrificed one kidney years ago, a secret bond I thought we shared. Now she wanted my other one for him.
"Please, Ethan," she begged, "It' s the last thing I' ll ever ask. If you do this, I' ll forgive you for the crash." Forgive me? The rage was so pure, so hot, the only thing I' d felt in months. I laughed, a dry, rattling sound. "No."
She went to the media, crying on camera about her ungrateful, drunkard brother refusing to save her beloved. My public humiliation was complete. I was a monster. Lying there, alone and hated, I closed my eyes. If only I could go back.
Then, a sudden jolt. My eyes snapped open. I was standing in a hospital room, ten years ago. Unscathed. Olivia, pale but hopeful, asked: "Ethan... Will you give me your kidney?" Time had rewound. A system notification chimed: [A new life path has been initiated. You may be exposed to significant personal risk.] I looked at the woman who would condemn me, and felt no love. Only cold, hard resolve. The Kidney He Demanded, My Life
Fantasy Three years after my supposed death, my CEO ex-husband, Ethan Hayes, served me with a legal notice. He claimed the kidney I had donated to his new fiancée, Olivia Reed, was defective. It was absurd because I was already a ghost, tethered to him, watching him demand my reappearance.
To force me out of hiding, he publicly announced he was transferring twenty percent of his company shares to Olivia. When weeks passed with no response, his frustration turned to cold fury. He drove to my childhood home, convinced I was playing games.
My sister, Chloe, devastated, told him I had died two years ago. Ethan scoffed, calling it another one of my "desperate plays for attention." He remembered freezing my credit cards and cutting me off for supposedly assaulting Olivia. He claimed he was willing to "forgive" me if I took "responsibility." My older brother, Liam, appeared, asserting the money Ethan gave our family was the price I paid. My spirit twisted, reliving the horror: I had only one kidney, a secret Olivia exploited, knowing a single kidney transplant was a death sentence for me.
I suffered through the memory of the scalpel, the searing pain, the infection that took my life alone in a sterile room while Ethan celebrated with Olivia. My family screamed at him to check my death certificate, but Ethan, blind to the truth, said the hospital confirmed my discharge. He believed the lies Olivia paid them to tell.
His rage escalated. He unleashed dogs on my family. My beloved Buster, old and frail, was torn apart before my spectral eyes. Ethan, oblivious to my presence, then watched a triumph on his face, chillingly stating that if I didn't show up in three days, my family would suffer the same fate. Later, Olivia, playing the victim, whispered that her body was rejecting "her" kidney, lamenting "Maybe… maybe if Ava would just give me her other one…" . Ethan, with casual cruelty, told her not to worry, promising an artificial kidney.
My death certificate, anonymously delivered, forced him to confront a truth he refused to accept. He scoffed, claiming it was a fake. But as proof piled up, culminating in reports from the crematorium, his denial morphed into a terrifying obsession. He went to my grave, still convinced it was an elaborate deception. "Dig it up," he commanded. The urn was empty. Of course it was, my brother would never leave me there.
He returned to my family' s house, where Olivia was waiting, portraying a frail victim. My spirit froze as I saw the charm I had prayed over and climbed a sacred mountain for, the charm meant to protect him, now around her neck. He smashed the empty urn, demanding, "Where is she?" Liam, grief-stricken, attacked him. A crystal photo frame toppled, revealing my smiling picture, staining it with Ethan' s blood as he frantically clutched the broken glass. He finally questioned, "Is she really dead?"
Weeks later, the truth emerged; the million-dollar compensation for my kidney was never transferred to my account. It went to Olivia, and a portion was used to pay the doctors who performed my surgery. With that, and the revelation that I was born with only one kidney, Ethan had nowhere left to hide from the devastating facts. His mind fractured. He lashed out, cutting Olivia, believing he was retrieving "my" kidney. Mark, his assistant, struck him down to save Olivia. Ethan, committed to a psychiatric hospital, descended into madness, still hallucinating my presence. My spirit, tethered to him, watched his horrific unraveling.
Months later, my brother Liam, in a dream, finally heard my silent plea: "You need to get my kidney back. The one Ethan has. My body isn' t complete. I can' t move on until it is." He found it under Ethan's mattress, preserved in formaldehyde: "My Beloved Ava" etched on the jar. Liam buried it at my grave, then, with Chloe, scattered my ashes over Golden Sands Beach, my favorite place. As my spirit lifted, finally free, the news came: Ethan had died from a brain hemorrhage. Liam, embodying my legacy, transformed Ethan's manor into the "Ava Miller Sanctuary" and "Ava Miller Free Counseling Center."
This is my story of betrayal, sacrifice, and a final, bittersweet liberation. The Wife They Cast Aside
Modern For ten years, I lived a life that wasn' t mine, sacrificing my scientific dreams to become the perfect wife and mother.
My carefully built world shattered when I overheard my husband, Mark, tell our ten-year-old daughter Mia, that her real mother, my sister Sophia, was finally coming back.
He then twisted a venomous lie, blaming me for Sophia' s decade-long absence, claiming I was jealous and drove her away.
Mia' s face twisted in fury, her blue eyes, once filled with love, now burned with hatred as she screamed, "You're a monster! I hate you!"
Before I could react, she lunged and shoved me down the grand staircase, leaving me crumpled and bleeding on the marble, physically and emotionally broken.
My parents, witnessing my prostrate form and Mia' s crocodile tears, immediately sided with their 'precious' granddaughter, my mother slapping me and my father lecturing me on duty.
They saw me not as a daughter, but as a business asset, a pawn to save their shaky social standing and financial future.
How could the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally abandon me so easily, believing such a blatant lie?
Why did my years of selfless devotion to a child and a family that wasn't truly mine only lead to such profound betrayal?
Lying there, bleeding and discarded, a chilling clarity pierced through the agony: My life as Olivia Reynolds, the aspiring scientist, was violently reclaimed.
I would divorce my indifferent husband, leave my ungrateful family, and reclaim the life stolen from me a decade ago. My Marriage, A Deadly Lie
Romance My marriage was a lie, a tragic commitment made in the shadow of my fiancé Ryan's untimely death in a plane crash.
Drowning in grief, I accepted his younger brother Liam' s proposal to continue the engagement, believing it was an act of selfless duty to protect the family and honor Ryan.
Liam transformed, becoming a devoted, loving husband who showered me with affection, whispering promises of eternal fidelity.
He was my rock through fertility struggles, heartbreaking doctor' s appointments, and especially after losing our unborn child, our little Hope.
"I love you, Chloe," he swore, his voice thick with emotion after our miscarriage. "I don' t care if we ever have children. It' s you I want. Only you, forever."
I clung to those words, believing them to be the one solid truth in my shattered world.
A month later, a overheard conversation changed everything: Liam' s cousin, Maya, desperate about her son Leo, and Liam' s calm reassurance, "Don' t worry, I' ll handle it."
Then came a chilling whisper from Maya, "You helped me and your brother, who faked his death, to be together."
Ryan, alive? Leo, his son? The pieces of a monstrous betrayal slammed into place, shattering my reality.
Liam' s love, his tears for our lost baby, his unwavering support-it was all an act, a calculated performance to hide his brother and protect an heir.
My marriage wasn't just a lie; it was a crime scene.
He orchestrated my miscarriage to clear Leo' s path to the inheritance.
He murdered Hope.
The pain, bottled up and performed as grief, rushed back as a tidal wave of pure, clarifying rage.
I wouldn' t cry.
I wouldn't break down.
Not yet.
"No, you' re not (going to kill him)," my best friend and private investigator Jessica said, gripping my shoulders. "You' re going to destroy him. There' s a difference. We can go to the police right now."
"No," I declared, a chilling clarity cutting through the pain. "The police won' t be enough. His family is too powerful. They' ll bury it. They' ll paint me as a hysterical, grieving wife."
I wiped away my tears, the grief now fuel.
"They want Leo to be the heir?" I said, my voice cold and hard. "They want to protect the family' s reputation? Fine. I' ll give them exactly what they want, right before I take it all away."
"I' m not running away," I declared. "I' m not going to be a victim. I' m staying right here. I' m going to host a party. A big one. The biggest this family has ever seen. And I' m going to give everyone a show they will never, ever forget." His Dutiful Wife, His Undeniable Love
Romance The familiar scent of Texas dust welcomed me home after weeks on a sold-out tour, but my mother's strained smile hinted at trouble.
Over chicken-fried steak, she dropped a bombshell: an arranged marriage. Not in some period drama, but right here in the 21st century, between me, Ava Monroe, a musician building her own destiny, and Liam Sterling, the grandson of a man my father saved.
It was a life-debt, a "gentleman's agreement" from before I was born, now pushed forward by a dying patriarch.
I was blindsided, reeling from the archaic notion. This wasn't some fantasy; it was a contract, turning my life into a political maneuver for family honor.
The agreement had a cruel twist: it only stood if I wasn't "seriously involved" with anyone.
My single status, a consequence of artistic devotion, suddenly trapped me.
They rushed the wedding, leaving me married to a handsome stranger who was meticulous, practical, and almost unsettlingly stoic.
He treated me with perfect respect, yet his emotional distance left me feeling like a beautiful, but hollow, exhibit in his immaculate penthouse.
Then came Victoria.
Liam' s long-time, sophisticated pursuer, who saw me as an obstacle and made it clear I was an unwanted intrusion.
A seed of raw jealousy took root, twisting my stomach.
Was I just fulfilling a duty?
Was he secretly longing for someone from his own world, someone who understood his life without constant explanation?
Did he even want me, or was I just the inconvenient fulfillment of an ancient pact? I ran.
But as I stood on the edge of a bridge, terrified before a charity bungee jump for all the world to see, facing a very real fear, a single thought consumed me.
I desperately wished for Liam. And he appeared. He found me, just when I needed him most, pulling me into a fierce, possessive kiss. "I was jealous," he growled.
That simple, honest confession shattered every barrier. He chose me.
He always chose me. Amidst the chaos of my public life, my arranged marriage was finally becoming a love story, a destiny I was ready to embrace. Her Jealous Game: My Fight for Truth
Young Adult My life was perfectly on track. A full scholarship to Yale, loving parents, and the SATs were just another stepping stone. I had my best friend Brittany and boyfriend Kyle by my side, seemingly there to support me through it all.
Then, I died. And snapped awake, gasping. The horrifying memories of my past flooded back: a SAT cheating scandal that ruined my family and led to their deaths, and my own demise. I was back, exactly one day before the SATs, staring at the faces of those who would betray me.
I desperately tried to change my fate, fleeing the hotel and establishing an alibi. Yet, the nightmare unfolded again. I was arrested, framed with planted evidence-a fake earpiece, forged transactions, a look-alike at the test center. My ironclad alibi vanished when the cafe's security cameras mysteriously 'fried.' My parents were shamed, my father physically attacked.
How could this be happening? Every attempt to escape only tightened the net. My supposed best friend, my boyfriend-they were the architects of my ruin. The proof was overwhelming, irrefutable, yet entirely false. Was I truly powerless against this meticulously crafted conspiracy?
But amidst the despair, a single, overlooked detail on the 'evidence' hoodie sparked a desperate hope: the absence of a tiny, silver thread I' d sewn into my unique raven patch. This time, I wouldn't be a victim. Feigning illness to buy critical time, I would unravel their monstrous lie and reclaim my future. No Second Chances for Love
Mafia My life felt like a fairytale. I, Maya Rodriguez, was deeply in love with Ethan Cole, and my father, Ricardo, was a beloved philanthropist, hosting tonight's grand gala. This night felt special, like the start of everything good.
But then, the ballroom doors burst open. Men in dark uniforms stormed in, DEA. And leading them was Ethan. My Ethan. His face, once full of warmth, was cold, hard. He arrested my father, revealing him as "El Martillo," a narcotics trafficker, and worse, the murderer of Officer Sarah Miller – my own mother. My world tilted, shattered in an instant.
My perfect life was a lie. My father, a community pillar, was a criminal. My mother, murdered by him. And Ethan, the man I loved, was the architect of this destruction, a cold, calculating agent who had used me. His "I love yous" were just part of his "task." In the hospital, the bullet wound in my shoulder ached, but nothing compared to the news: Agent Cole had a fiancée. I was a means to an end, a tool. Not a person.
Was any of it real? Our dates, our nights, his whispers? Did he feel anything, or was I just a job he had to do? The realization was a bitter pill. Hope turned to ash. But as I replayed the horrifying scene, a tiny memory surfaced: my father, a faint scratch on his cheek the night my mother supposedly died in a car crash. A cold suspicion snaked through me.
This wasn't just about betrayal. This was about truth. I fumbled with my mother's St. Michael pendant. Inside, tiny engravings: "7710. S.M. My real name." Sarah Miller. My mother. A cop. Killed in the line of duty. By my father. The naive girl was gone. Now, only a burning resolve remained. I would find out everything. And when I did, they would all pay. The Wedding Night Annulment
Romance My wife, Ellie, died in my arms, her last words twisting the knife: a confession she wished she’d never married me, only pined for her stepbrother, Marcus.
Haunted by her dying wish, I used my family's illicit time-travel technology to rewrite our past, determined to give her the happiness I never could.
I plunged into our wedding night, posing as Marcus to get our marriage annulled.
I painstakingly orchestrated her reunion with him, enduring humiliation, and even donated my own blood to save him after his suicide attempt.
Every sacrifice tore me apart, ensuring her ultimate freedom, though it came at the cost of my own soul.
Yet, after all this, Ellie, finally free of me, only realized her feelings for me once I was gone.
Then, at a charity gala, Marcus, in a jealous rage, attacked me.
Ellie shielded me, taking the fall, leaving her gravely injured.
Now, she's desperate for the love she never saw.
Can I, after such profound heartbreak and self-sacrifice, ever reciprocate?
Or is it time to finally choose my own peace, severing all ties, and finding a happiness she will only witness from afar? My Husband's Secret Journal
Romance I was Olivia Miller, a New York socialite trapped in a cold, arranged marriage to Ethan Cole, a man I utterly despised.
My indifference turned to cruel disdain at a charity gala, where I mocked him as he was drugged. His quiet suffering and eventual death, ironically, came after he selflessly saved my family's company. Only then, grief-stricken by a car crash, did I discover his secret journal, a heartbreaking revelation of his hidden, unwavering love for me.
I woke up years earlier, back at that same gala – a second chance! But Ethan, too, remembered my past cruelty. He was cold, distant, and brought a doppelgänger into our home, showering her with affection to punish me. He relentlessly pursued a divorce, making me experience the crushing agony of rejection I'd once inflicted.
Why had fate granted me a do-over, only for him to hate me so fiercely? My desperate pleas for forgiveness fell on deaf ears. I finally understood his pain, but his indifference was an insurmountable wall. The bitter irony consumed me: I finally loved him, but he wanted me gone.
I eventually died again, tragically sacrificing myself for my family’s name. Yet, death wasn't the end. I woke up *again*, five years before our arranged marriage, armed with foresight. This time, my mission is clear: save my family, dismantle the threats to our legacy, and, maybe, just maybe, reclaim the heart of the man whose memories of me are forever tainted. You might like
His Proposal, Her Two Choices
CAMILLE BERRY In my past life, a divine power offered my sister and me a choice between two life systems. Olivia, my older sister, eagerly chose the "Socialite Siren," while I was left with the "Independent Achiever," a system that demanded tireless, solitary effort.
Ten years later, I had achieved hard-won but lonely success as a tech startup founder, while Olivia, having manipulated her way through the city's elite, lay paralyzed after a brutal accident. Her resentment, however, burned brighter than ever, culminating in her stabbing me repeatedly in a hospital room.
My vision faded, only to snap open again. I was back at the moment of choice, the shimmering orbs presenting themselves once more. A cruel smile twisted Olivia's lips as she snatched the "Independent Achiever," believing she was taking the superior path and leaving me with the "leftovers."
She smirked. "Looks like you're stuck with the leftovers, Chloe. Good luck trying to charm your way through life. I'll be watching you fail."
This time, I almost laughed. After reliving the brutal isolation of the "Independent Achiever," I knew true independence wasn't about lonely hell. Olivia, blinded by greed and pride, had no idea I was finally free.
With profound relief, I touched the pink orb. "I choose the 'Socialite Siren' system." This time, I wouldn't be its prisoner; I'd change the rules completely. Reborn, Redeemed, Relentless Revenge
Lorraine The scent of gasoline and burning metal, the agonizing twisting of the car around me-that was my last memory. My sister Bella' s triumphant smile, seared into my mind as flames consumed me.
Then, a blinding flash, and I was back. Not in a hospital, but in my old bedroom, years younger, my hands smooth and unscarred. The shock of rebirth warred with a fierce, tiny spark of hope. A second chance. A chance to do it right.
But the past wasn't content to stay buried. The memories flooded back: my father, framed and driven to suicide; his legacy left in ruins; my life single-mindedly devoted to clearing his name. And Bella, my own sister, orchestrating my downfall, poisoning my family and reputation for her frivolous desires, egged on by her manipulative lover, Leo.
The car accident wasn' t an accident. It was a calculated murder, a final betrayal. They left me for dead, my life' s work shattered, my body broken.
The raw pain of that memory still gnawed at me, the bitter taste of betrayal fresh on my tongue. Why had they done this? How could a sister be so cruel?
Then, the creak of a door. Bella walked in, dressed in a brand new designer dress, her face a mask of practiced sweetness. "Chloe," she cooed, "I need to talk to you about something." It was the exact same scene. The same beginning. But this time, she wouldn' t find a victim. This time, I knew the game, and I was ready to play. Reborn: A Wife's Vengeful Return
Haley The antiseptic smell of the hospital and the relentless rain were the last things I remembered from my past life. That' s where it ended-my body hollowed by grief, my spirit eroded by depression after losing my baby in a hurricane.
But on my deathbed, a final, cruel truth echoed from outside my room: my husband, Mark, and his childhood sweetheart, Lisa, conspired to destroy me. They admitted using their own daughter, Chloe, as bait in the storm, knowing my "bleeding heart" would save her, ensuring I' d miscarry and become a "barren mule."
They rejoiced in how I' d raised Chloe, their daughter, completely oblivious to their monstrous scheme. I died with their laughter ringing in my ears, my last breath a ragged gasp of pure, undiluted hatred.
Then, I gasped again, a deep, full breath. My eyes snapped open. I wasn' t dying. I was in my living room, the wind howling, a news anchor warning of a Category 8 hurricane.
My hand flew to my stomach-a faint, familiar warmth. My baby was still there. I was still pregnant. I was alive, reborn to the day it all began.
The trap was being set again. I knew who was out there, waiting to be "saved." My nine-year-old son, Ethan, tugged my sleeve, pointing with manufactured fear.
"Mom, look! There's a little girl out there! In the water! She's going to drown!" The Bait Boy's Billionaire Secret
Paula Gardini The preliminary exam for the Presidential Scholarship was about to begin. I stared at the essay prompt: "The Nature of Ambition." I knew exactly what to write.
A flawless essay, every sentence a stroke of genius, destined to secure my spot in the finals and launch my brilliant future.
But in my last life, that perfect essay became my death sentence. Mere minutes before I could hand in my paper, my rival, Ethan, uploaded an identical one online.
Then, he and my girlfriend, Jessica, launched a brutal campaign, painting me as a fraud, a plagiarist who stole from the school's golden boy.
The scandal utterly destroyed me. I was expelled, the scholarship snatched away. The immense stress broke my mother's weak heart; she died, still questioning my integrity.
My father, a humble bait-and-tackle shop owner, spent his entire life savings trying to clear my name before he perished in a suspicious boating "accident." Left with nothing, watching Ethan celebrate his Yale graduation online, I extinguished my own life.
The cold, hard rage of that injustice consumed me, even in death.
How did they know every thought, every perfect turn of phrase? How could they have replicated my genius so flawlessly, systematically dismantling my life while I was powerless?
Now, I'm back. In the same exam room, at the same desk, with the same clock ticking down. This time, I' m not just rewriting an essay. I' m rewriting history. And the script calls for a reckoning. Shattered Light: A Queen's Vengeance
AtengKadiwa I woke up back in my old novitiate room.
The sunlight was weak, my head ached, but it wasn't physical pain. It was the crushing weight of a whole life, stolen, crashing back into me.
Years of sacrifice, of pouring my heart into others-Ethan, Maya, Mr. Henderson-all ripped away.
My deepest devotions, twisted by a dark ritual, a "Charm of Transference," meant to siphon my spiritual credit to my sister, Seraphina.
She was lauded for my true work, celebrated for my love, while I was publicly shamed, exiled, and left to die, broken and alone.
Now, I' m back, and the game is already in motion. Alistair is setting the stage for Seraphina's rise, forcing me down familiar paths of betrayal.
I tried to change things, to build something real with Kai, to honor Mr. Henderson. But again, Seraphina claimed every ounce of my effort, my love, my sacrifice as her own, leaving me stripped bare, exiled, deemed "unworthy."
Each repeated betrayal, a fresh cut, compounded the rage that had settled deep within me.
How could they keep stealing my life, my essence, transforming my pure intentions into their glittering lies?
The injustice was a living thing, purer and more potent than any "Grace" they pretended to embody. It burned away the last vestiges of the hopeful girl I once was.
No more. I died once, broken and alone, with anger as my only companion.
This time, my pain is my power, my rage a crucible. On the eve of Seraphina' s coronation, I won' t just endure.
I will shatter their illusion, severing the very source of their stolen power, even if it means destroying myself in the process.
The game has changed. I am back, and this time, I play to win. His Second Life Begins
Mattie Valelly My soul floated above the cold asphalt, watching my own naked body lying lifelessly on the street. I was 30, a successful architect, but all I heard were whispers of judgment-that I' d thrown my life away for Olivia. Everyone knew she never loved me, that she was always with Daniel. To die like this, discarded and forgotten, was nothing short of a pathetic waste.
Then, a strange, swirling pain, and I woke up not dead, but screaming, my left hand wrapped in a bloody rag. A finger was freshly severed. Before me, tied to a chair, was Daniel. And holding a bloody knife, cold and impatient, stood Olivia. My mind reeled: this was ten years ago, the very day my life began its downward spiral. The kidnapping, the torture, the moment Olivia chose Daniel over me, leaving me for dead.
The memory of my actual death, the whispers of strangers judging my wasted life, burned clearer than any past pain. I watched her look at Daniel, her choice already made in her eyes, just like before. I was nothing to her. I had always been nothing. The desperate love, the years of pining-it all turned to ashes.
Why was I back? Why was I forced to relive this cruel charade, knowing the tragic end it led to? The injustice, the utter pointlessness of my devotion, fueled a cold, hard fury I' d never known. This time, something inside me snapped.
This time, I wouldn' t beg. This time, I' d escape. I' d use every shred of memory I had from the future I' d just left, every bitter lesson learned, to break free and forge a life entirely my own, a life where Olivia had no place. The Twin's Fatal Deception: A Reborn Wife's Justice
Valeria A grim news report flashed on screen: "Catastrophic lab explosion at Innovatech Robotics."
Then came the update that made my blood run cold: "CEO Mark Reinhart critically injured but alive.
His twin brother, David Reinhart, tragically declared dead." My husband.
Alive. But a chilling memory slammed into me.
Because this wasn't the first time this tragedy played out, just with the names reversed.
In my first life, Mark died, and David appeared, claiming amnesia.
But I knew it was Mark, changed and cruel.
He, along with his venomous mother and David's manipulative wife, gaslighted me, painting me as delusional.
They neglected my sweet Emily.
They smeared my name, turning the community against me.
It ended in fire and screams.
Emily and I didn't escape that guest house.
That nightmare of betrayal and agony was my first life.
Now, the roles were switched, but the lie was the same.
A cold wave of recognition, brutal and sharp, washed over me.
How could this be happening again?
No. This time, Emily needed me.
I wouldn't be the victim.
I would write a new ending.
Let Mark have his stolen life with Jessica; he would lose absolutely everything else.
My resolve hardened, sharp as steel. Called by the Token: Her True Mate
Noah Reed The fluorescent hum of the county clerk's office was the soundtrack to my defiance.
I clutched the pen, ready to marry Liam Thorne, a man I' d run seven days and suppressed a blood-bound token for, all to rewrite a past that still haunted my reborn soul.
Before the ink could touch the paper, Liam snatched the license.
Rip.
My heart stopped.
"I have to marry Chloe first," he said, his words echoing the betrayal I remembered from a lifetime ago.
He spoke of a week, of saving Chloe' s reputation, but I remembered years in a damp root cellar, the loss of our children.
My blood-bound token throbbed as his guards abducted me, dragging me to his coastal estate.
There, Chloe, the cousin whose manipulations haunted my first life, paraded in my wedding gown, her triumph chilling.
With a staged cry and a splash of fake blood, she framed me.
Liam, blinded by her fake tears, roared, "Take her to the old root cellar!"
My nightmare was real again.
The sting of his slap echoed the cruelty of a past he seemed to have forgotten, but I hadn't.
Had he learned nothing?
Did he truly believe a week could erase my agony, our lost children, the years in that dark cellar?
The blood-bound token, suppressed for so long, now pulsed with a furious, undeniable call.
As the heavy door of that dreaded root cellar slammed shut, I finally let go.
No more running.
No more pretending.
My forced apology was a lie, a means to an end.
It was time for my people to find me.
It was time to go home.
And this time, I wouldn't be marrying him.
I was going home to Elijah.