Killed By Love, Reborn By Fate

Killed By Love, Reborn By Fate

Miss Demeanor

5.0
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My name is Luna Boudreaux. They call me the Oracle. For generations, my family, the Boudreaux, has served the powerful Devereaux dynasty. Our sacred duty: activate the Legacy Locket to choose the next Devereaux heir, who then marries me. Today was that day, the Locket ceremony, set to fulfill our destiny. But this wasn't my first time. In my previous life, I fell desperately in love with Beau Devereaux. He was handsome, charming, everything I thought I wanted. Blinded by adoration, I committed a terrible sin. I used forbidden Boudreaux magic, a profound spiritual sacrifice, to force the Locket to choose him. I gave him everything – my family' s power, our wealth, and my entire heart. The moment he ascended, he turned into a monster. He sneered, "What Oracle? Just your desperate trick to marry me." He annulled our marriage, annihilated my family' s reputation with twisted lies, blamed us for an "accident" he orchestrated involving his obsession, Chantelle Dubois. He stripped us bare. And then, he had me killed. To my dying breath, I couldn't comprehend how a love so fierce could transform into such cold-blooded cruelty, or why I' d been so profoundly, fatally wrong. But then darkness lifted. Now, I'm back. Same place, same moment, a terrifying second chance. Beau can have Chantelle. I won' t interfere. This time, the Locket will choose truly. Fate will decide. And maybe, just maybe, I' ll uncover why, in a future vision, Beau Devereaux was on his knees, begging me to marry him instead.

Introduction

My name is Luna Boudreaux. They call me the Oracle. For generations, my family, the Boudreaux, has served the powerful Devereaux dynasty. Our sacred duty: activate the Legacy Locket to choose the next Devereaux heir, who then marries me. Today was that day, the Locket ceremony, set to fulfill our destiny.

But this wasn't my first time. In my previous life, I fell desperately in love with Beau Devereaux. He was handsome, charming, everything I thought I wanted. Blinded by adoration, I committed a terrible sin. I used forbidden Boudreaux magic, a profound spiritual sacrifice, to force the Locket to choose him. I gave him everything – my family' s power, our wealth, and my entire heart.

The moment he ascended, he turned into a monster. He sneered, "What Oracle? Just your desperate trick to marry me." He annulled our marriage, annihilated my family' s reputation with twisted lies, blamed us for an "accident" he orchestrated involving his obsession, Chantelle Dubois. He stripped us bare. And then, he had me killed.

To my dying breath, I couldn't comprehend how a love so fierce could transform into such cold-blooded cruelty, or why I' d been so profoundly, fatally wrong. But then darkness lifted.

Now, I'm back. Same place, same moment, a terrifying second chance. Beau can have Chantelle. I won' t interfere. This time, the Locket will choose truly. Fate will decide. And maybe, just maybe, I' ll uncover why, in a future vision, Beau Devereaux was on his knees, begging me to marry him instead.

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Reborn Heiress: My Family's Bitter Karma

Reborn Heiress: My Family's Bitter Karma

Fantasy

5.0

On my eighteenth birthday, the celestial pact hiding my aura finally expired. I stood on the rotting steps of the trailer, watching my foster family celebrate my eviction like they’d won the lottery. Brenda threw a liability waiver at me to sign, ensuring I’d never ask for a dime of their welfare checks again. Worse, her daughter Regina stood there smirking, flaunting the heirloom emerald bracelet she’d stolen from my secret stash—unaware it was a spiritual artifact soaked in fifty years of blood magic. "Consider it payment for room and board, freak," Regina sneered, forcing the silver band over her wrist. They thought they were discarding a burden. They didn't realize I was the only dam holding back a tidal wave of their own bad karma. As I signed the papers, voluntarily severing our ties, the air pressure plummeted. The bracelet began to constrict like a snake, turning Regina’s flesh a necrotic purple as the protection I offered vanished. Before they could scream, a matte black helicopter bearing the Sterling Industries crest descended onto the muddy lawn, blowing their plastic lawn chairs into the neighbor's yard. A man in a bespoke charcoal suit stepped out, ignoring the filth to bow before me. He looked at my terrified foster family and announced, "We are here to retrieve the Sterling heiress." I smiled at Regina, whose arm was already beginning to rot, and whispered, "Keep the bracelet. You'll need it to pay for the amputation."

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Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

SHANA GRAY
4.3

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

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