A Billionaire's Regret For A Ghost

When The Victim Rewrites Her Story

The air in the Wharton lecture hall was thick with ambition, the final presentation stretching before me, my future almost within reach. Then, Liam, my childhood friend and the boy everyone expected me to marry, slid a folded note across the table that read: "Ava, will you bear all my failures for me?" The moment my eyes registered the words, glowing, semi-transparent text, like a Twitch chat, materialized in my vision. [LOL, the author is starting the 'Fate Swap' plotline.] [She'll take the fall for Chloe's academic fraud, get expelled from Wharton, and her family will disown her. Total social death.] [And the best part? Liam, the 'author' , will dump Chloe afterward, claiming he' s heartbroken over Ava' s downfall. He' ll spend the rest of his life 'missing' her, playing the tragic, devoted man. What a psychopath.] My blood ran cold. Liam? The author? A fate-swapping system? He watched me, his eyes full of a pleading hope that now seemed monstrous. He thought he was the writer of this story, and I was just a character to be sacrificed. How could he, the boy I' d known my whole life, see me as nothing more than a pawn in his sick fantasy? Furious, I picked up my pen, ready to rewrite my own ending.

The Blind Billionaire's Scandalous Fake Wife

I woke up in a sterile hospital room with a throat like sandpaper and eyelids that felt sewn shut. I expected to see the water-stained ceiling of my tiny Queens apartment, but instead, I found myself tethered to expensive machines in a room smelling of funeral lilies. The nurse didn't call me Ainsley Bentley; she called me Mrs. Eaton, and she told me the year was 2024. Before I could process the four-year gap in my memory, the Eaton matriarch stormed in, calling me a "little actress" and throwing a newspaper at my legs. The headline screamed that I was a scandalous commoner wife who had just caused a DUI crash. Within hours, a ruthless lawyer named Preston was at my bedside, demanding I sign a separation agreement that stripped me of everything. He showed me grainy photos of me with another man, accusing me of infidelity and "endangering the family reputation." My so-called best friend, Kirstie, even tried to bribe me with fifty thousand dollars to flee to Paris, whispering that my husband was an unstable monster who would destroy me. When I finally confronted my husband Carson, the billionaire "Blind Prophet of Wall Street," he looked at me with chilling indifference through his dark glasses. He was convinced I had sold his location to the paparazzi for a tabloid payout, betraying him at his most vulnerable moment. I didn't understand any of it. I didn't remember the marriage, the scandals, or the luxury. But when I looked in the mirror, I found a jagged, violent scar running down my back—a "war wound" that didn't belong to a yoga instructor. I realized I knew how to cite matrimonial law by heart and how to neutralize a physical threat with a single move. "I'm staying," I told the family of sharks as I stood my ground in their massive estate. I refused to sign the papers. Instead, I found a micro SD card hidden in a hollowed-out lipstick and realized I wasn't just a victim of a crash. I was a variable they hadn't accounted for, and I was going to find out exactly who I was before they could finish what they started.

Too Late For Regret: The Heiress's Revenge

I spent a decade learning to save lives as a trauma surgeon, only to discover my parents had sold mine to the highest bidder. To end a turf war, I was forced back into the underworld to marry Ivan Hughes, a rival mob boss known for his brutality. I thought I was just a pawn in a business merger, but then my steady surgeon’s hands began to tremble, and a metallic taste filled my mouth. I ran my own toxicology report in secret. Positive for arsenic. My mother wasn't just forcing me into a loveless marriage; she was slowly poisoning me. I broke into my father's safe and found the truth: a birth certificate for Ivan’s secret son with his mistress, and a chain of emails between my mother and my fiancé. "The dosage is being increased," my mother wrote. "By the wedding night, she will be too weak to protest. You can dispose of her quietly after the heir is secured." My blood turned to ice. They were using me to transfer my trust fund to Ivan, planning to bury me and replace me with his mistress before the honeymoon even started. They thought they were killing a helpless girl. They forgot that a surgeon knows exactly where to cut to cause the most damage. I taped a microphone to my ribs beneath my white silk gown and walked onto the stage of our engagement gala. I didn't take the microphone to say "I do." I took it to burn their empire to the ground.

The Wolfless Omega Is The Alpha King's Daughter

I stood at the gala, clutching my belly, waiting to tell Alpha Gabe about our child. I was the pack's "Wolfless" orphan, but I was his fated mate. Surely, an heir would change everything. But under the spotlight, Gabe didn't call my name. He wrapped his arm around Harper, a wealthy heiress, and announced she was carrying the future Alpha. When I screamed the truth, he didn't just deny me—he looked at me with pure disgust. "You are a genetic dead end," he spat. "Do not mistake my kindness for affection." They didn't exile me. They dragged me to the basement. First, they planned to steal my baby for Harper. Then, when jealousy rotted her mind, they decided to kill it. My own foster parents held me down, having sold me to clear their debts, while a doctor approached with a silver scalpel. "It's a Rogue mistake," Gabe said, watching me struggle against the straps. "End it." With seconds left, I begged for one final phone call. I dialed the number on an old, yellowed card I'd hidden for years. Gabe laughed, thinking I was calling a friend. But when the voice on the other end spoke, the room shook with an aura that forced the Alpha to his knees. "I am Antony Dean, the Lycan King," the voice roared through the speaker. "And I am ten minutes away." Gabe had rejected a nobody. He didn't know he had just declared war on the Princess of the Royal Pack.

His Poisoned Love, My Escape

My husband, Austen, the man the world saw as my devoted admirer, was the artist of my pain. He had punished me ninety-five times, and this was the ninety-sixth. Then, a message from my stepsister, Joyce, buzzed on my phone: a photo of her perfectly manicured hand holding champagne, captioned, "Celebrating another victory. He really does love me more." A second message from Austen followed, "My love, are you resting? I' ve asked the doctor to come. I' m sorry it had to be this way, but you must learn. I' ll be home soon to take care of you." I had always known Joyce was the trigger, but I never understood the mechanism. I thought it was just Austen' s own brand of cruelty, ignited by Joyce' s lies. But then, I found a voice recording of Austen's. His calm voice filled the silent room, "...number ninety-six. A broken hand. It should be enough to appease Joyce this time. But my debt must be paid. Fifteen years ago, Joyce saved my life. She pulled me from that burning car after the kidnapping. I vowed that day I would protect her from everything and everyone. Even from my own wife." My mind went blank. Kidnapping. Burning car. Fifteen years ago. I was the one there. I was the girl who pulled a terrified, crying boy from the back seat just before it exploded. His name was Austen. He had called me his "little star." But when I returned with the police, another girl was there, crying and holding Austen' s hand. It was Joyce. He didn't know. He had built his entire twisted system of justice on a lie. Joyce had stolen my life-saving act, and I was paying the price. Every cell in my body screamed one word: Escape.

From Disappointment to Destiny

The promotion letter for the head of the German division lay heavy in my hand. It was the job I' d always wanted, the future I' d painstakingly built, but I' d turned it down a year ago. "Don' t go, Ethan," Olivia had pleaded, her eyes filled with tears. "I need you here." So, I stayed, sacrificing my career, taking a lesser role to support her dreams, to be her stable foundation. Tonight was my 25th birthday, a simple steak dinner I' d cooked. The second plate sat empty. Olivia had texted hours ago: "Something came up with my study group. Will be a little late." I scrolled through social media, a habit born of waiting. Then I saw it: Alex Stone, Olivia' s younger colleague, his arm wrapped tightly around her at a loud, crowded bar. They were beaming, heads together, Olivia holding a colorful cocktail, not a textbook. The caption read: "Celebrating with the best." The air left my lungs. It wasn't just the picture; it was the casual intimacy, the audacious lie. A celebration. On my birthday. A sharp, cold feeling spread through my chest, a feeling I had ignored for too long. I remembered every sacrifice: selling my classic car for her tuition, sleepless nights proofreading her papers while she was out with "friends from class," driving hours in a snowstorm to fix her flat tire, only to be chastised for being late. I had given and given, believing that was love, building my world around her. But she was building a separate one without me. The pain was immense, but beneath it, something hard and resolute stirred. I had been patient. I had been loyal. I had been a fool. The unlit candle on the cake, a symbol of a celebration that never happened, haunted me. I didn't light it. I simply leaned forward and blew, extinguishing a flame that was never truly there. The silent puff of air in my mind was a roar. The decision was made, not in anger, but in the desolate quiet of profound disappointment. I was done. I picked up the promotion letter again. This time, it wasn't a sacrifice; it was an escape. I opened my laptop, pulled up my email, and wrote a short, direct message. A new chapter was about to begin, alone.

After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash

Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world. In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief." But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius. Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be.

Craving for My Tyrant Husband

I was cheated on by my scumbag boyfriend. On the night I got blackout drunk, I married a stranger, and when I woke up, I only found a marriage certificate and a black card. He took care of my scumbag ex for me, gave me a canary diamond ring, but refused to show his face—he only called me baby on video calls. I ran to my best friend’s house to hide, only to find that the billionaire next door, who made my heart skip a beat, had the exact same scent as him. My best friend cried and begged me: "He’s Augustus, a tyrant who eats people alive!" But only I knew that the man who pressed me against the terrace railing, leaned down to kiss me, and whispered "I’ll protect you" softly. Fifty thousand dollars to sneak photos of his private office? I’ll go. Not for the money, but to ask him to his face— Gus, how many secrets are you hiding? And how long have you been craving me?

Captivation: Want Nothing But You

Her fiance and her best friend worked together and set her up. She lost everything and died in the street. However, she was reborn. The moment she opened her eyes, her husband was trying to strangle her. Luckily, she survived that. She signed the divorce agreement without hesitation and was ready for her miserable life. To her surprise, her mother in this life left her a great deal of money. She turned the tables and avenged herself. Everything went well in her career and love when her ex-husband came to her.

A Billion-Dollar Mix-Up: Pregnant With The Mysterious CEO's Baby

After the crash erased any hope of recovery, Vivian chose IVF to honor her fiancé's wish to have a child. A mistake during the procedure changed everything, and the baby turned out to belong to William, a billionaire known more for mystery than presence. Faced with the fallout, William offered her a hundred million dollar contract. "Carry the child to term, and the money will be yours." At first, Vivian refused because she believed her dignity could not be bought. That resolve collapsed when she saw her fiancé, barely out of the ICU, entwined with her stepsister. Crushed by betrayal, she signed the contract and married William. The public mocked her choice and claimed she had married nothing more than a pretty face. Time proved them wrong. Doctors later praised her work for reshaping medical research. Among hackers, her code became legend. On an international stage, Vivian's brilliance held an entire forum in awe. Amid the stunned crowd, William stepped forward and wrapped her in a gentle embrace before kissing her softly. "Have you enjoyed yourself enough? It's time for us to go home." The audience erupted in disbelief. Meanwhile, the man who once scorned her now begged for another chance.

I'm Divorcing with You, Mr Billionaire!

I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

From Rejected Omega to the Supreme White Wolf

I was dying at the banquet, coughing up black blood while the pack celebrated my step-sister Lydia’s promotion. Across the room, Caleb, the Alpha and my Fated Mate, didn't look concerned. He looked annoyed. "Stop it, Elena," his voice boomed in my head. "Don't ruin this night with your attention-seeking lies." I begged him, telling him it was poison, but he just ordered me to leave his Pack House so I wouldn't dirty the floor. Heartbroken, I publicly demanded the Severing Ceremony to break our bond and left to die alone in a cheap motel. Only after I took my last breath did the truth come out. I sent Caleb the medical records proving Lydia had been poisoning my tea with wolfsbane for ten years. He went mad with grief, realizing he had protected the murderer and rejected his true mate. He tortured Lydia, but his regret couldn't bring me back. Or so he thought. In the afterlife, the Moon Goddess showed me my reflection. I wasn't a wolfless weakling. I was a White Wolf, the rarest and most powerful of all, suppressed by poison. "You can stay here in peace," the Goddess said. "Or you can go back." I looked at the life they stole from me. I looked at the power I never got to use. "I want to go back," I said. "Not for his love. But for revenge." I opened my eyes, and for the first time in my life, my wolf roared.