Reborn: A Queen's Vengeance

Reborn: A Queen's Vengeance

Gavin

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The grand hall of the royal palace was suffocating, every eye fixed on me as I stood before the throne, about to choose my betrothed. This supposed day of destiny was, for me, the day my life had already brutally ended before. I remembered the cold bite of the executioner's axe, the jeering crowd, and Prince Adrian, the man I loved, standing with his new lover, Lady Seraphina, watching me die. He had accused me of treason-all to clear his path to her. My last breath was choked with betrayal, then darkness, until I woke up screaming in my own bed, alive again. I was back, at the very ceremony that had sealed my doom. King Theron boomed, calling for my choice between General Kaelen and Prince Adrian. Adrian, handsome and charming, hissed a low warning, meant only for me: "Don't even think about it, Elara. You know who I want." He then arrogantly announced to the King that his heart belonged to Lady Seraphina, publicly humiliating me. The old me would have crumbled, but not anymore. Fueling my resolve with the memory of the axe, I walked past a stunned Adrian, ignoring his fury, and stopped before General Kaelen. My voice clear and steady for the entire hall to hear, I declared: "I choose General Kaelen." The silence was deafening, the murmurs of scandal already rising. Adrian, enraged by my defiance, later cornered me, his eyes blazing. "You're trying to make me jealous," he sneered, then leaned in, whispering, "When you get tired of his boring silence, you can come to me. I'll keep you as a mistress. It might be... amusing." The arrogance, the sheer disregard for my dignity, fueled a cold, hard anger within me. "You are mistaken, Adrian," I replied, my voice like ice. "I belong to no one but myself. And my future belongs to General Kaelen." He failed to grasp that I was not the girl he knew, leaving him sputtering in indignation. Days later, his scheme with Seraphina to extort my dowry by faking an injury led to Adrian striking me, then shoving my loyal maid, Lyra, who hit her head and lay still. Seeing Lyra, my innocent, loyal maid, injured because of them, something inside me snapped. The last vestiges of my old self burned away, leaving only a cold, pure, diamond-hard rage. They had gone too far. They had hurt my people. And for that, they would pay. I made a silent vow, looking at Lyra' s still form: I will not just survive. I will not just win. I will destroy you. Just then, a calm, cold voice broke through the tension, "You will not touch her." General Kaelen stood in the doorway, dust-worn armor telling of his rapid return, his hand on his greatsword. He was back.

Introduction

The grand hall of the royal palace was suffocating, every eye fixed on me as I stood before the throne, about to choose my betrothed.

This supposed day of destiny was, for me, the day my life had already brutally ended before.

I remembered the cold bite of the executioner's axe, the jeering crowd, and Prince Adrian, the man I loved, standing with his new lover, Lady Seraphina, watching me die.

He had accused me of treason-all to clear his path to her.

My last breath was choked with betrayal, then darkness, until I woke up screaming in my own bed, alive again.

I was back, at the very ceremony that had sealed my doom.

King Theron boomed, calling for my choice between General Kaelen and Prince Adrian.

Adrian, handsome and charming, hissed a low warning, meant only for me: "Don't even think about it, Elara. You know who I want."

He then arrogantly announced to the King that his heart belonged to Lady Seraphina, publicly humiliating me.

The old me would have crumbled, but not anymore.

Fueling my resolve with the memory of the axe, I walked past a stunned Adrian, ignoring his fury, and stopped before General Kaelen.

My voice clear and steady for the entire hall to hear, I declared: "I choose General Kaelen."

The silence was deafening, the murmurs of scandal already rising.

Adrian, enraged by my defiance, later cornered me, his eyes blazing.

"You're trying to make me jealous," he sneered, then leaned in, whispering, "When you get tired of his boring silence, you can come to me. I'll keep you as a mistress. It might be... amusing."

The arrogance, the sheer disregard for my dignity, fueled a cold, hard anger within me.

"You are mistaken, Adrian," I replied, my voice like ice. "I belong to no one but myself. And my future belongs to General Kaelen."

He failed to grasp that I was not the girl he knew, leaving him sputtering in indignation.

Days later, his scheme with Seraphina to extort my dowry by faking an injury led to Adrian striking me, then shoving my loyal maid, Lyra, who hit her head and lay still.

Seeing Lyra, my innocent, loyal maid, injured because of them, something inside me snapped.

The last vestiges of my old self burned away, leaving only a cold, pure, diamond-hard rage.

They had gone too far.

They had hurt my people.

And for that, they would pay.

I made a silent vow, looking at Lyra' s still form: I will not just survive.

I will not just win.

I will destroy you.

Just then, a calm, cold voice broke through the tension, "You will not touch her."

General Kaelen stood in the doorway, dust-worn armor telling of his rapid return, his hand on his greatsword.

He was back.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

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