Reborn: A Husband's Vengeful Love

Sold To The Devil: Escaping My Ruthless Husband

I was standing in the center of the gallery, holding a glass of expensive champagne, when the screens behind me flickered and my life ended. It was supposed to be an art unveiling, but the monitors shifted to fake footage of me handing evidence to the FBI. My fiancé, Ethan, looked at me like I was a sick dog that needed to be put down. My father slapped me across the face in front of everyone, disowning me to save his own skin. That was when Luca Vitti, the city’s most dangerous man, stepped in. He cleared the room and took my hand. I thought he was saving me. I didn't realize he was just collecting a new pet. I was locked in his estate, isolated and terrified. Then, my healthy mother suddenly "died" of pneumonia in a Vitti clinic. Days later, I saw Luca’s frail stepsister, Clara, breathing easily for the first time in her life. She had my mother’s lungs. I became nothing more than a breeding vessel. When I fell pregnant, I overheard Luca and Ethan planning my death. "Once the kid is cut out, she's a loose end," Luca had said. They were going to kill me and give my son to the woman who stole my mother's breath. I couldn't let that happen. So, I staged a tragedy. I induced labor in secret, hid my living son, and placed a fake corpse in the crib with a note: The Vitti Legacy. I escaped while they mourned. Five years later, Luca finally found the doctor’s confession. He learned that Clara had orchestrated everything. He opened the velvet box I left behind and realized it was empty. Now, he knows I didn't kill his son. I saved him from becoming a monster like his father.

Return From Grave: Reclaiming My Betrayed Heart

I returned to Boston after three years, not for forgiveness, but to die. My family, who blamed me for my mother's death, had cast me out, replacing me with a quiet, grateful orphan named Gabriela. She stole my father's love, my brother's affection, and my childhood sweetheart, Corey. Now, terminally ill, my only wish was to reclaim my mother's wedding dress, a final piece of her to hold onto. But Gabriela was wearing it to marry Corey. When I confronted her, she destroyed my mother's locket and cursed me to drop dead. In a blind rage, I slapped her. She shrieked, stabbed her own arm, and framed me for the attack. As my family and Corey looked on with disgust, calling me a maniac, my body gave out. I collapsed, coughing up blood, my secret illness revealed in the most brutal way possible. "You always blame me," I gasped, the words bubbling out with blood. "But I was just... dying." Their faces filled with dawning horror, but it was too late. I was already gone. Until I opened my eyes again, and my mother, who had been waiting for me all along, took my hand. "We'll be reborn," she promised, her eyes blazing with fury at the family who had destroyed me. "Together. As mother and daughter, again."

My Empire, My Son, My New Love

While I was fighting for my life in the delivery room, my husband was on the front page of every tabloid, caught in a scandalous affair. He never came to see me or our newborn son. Instead, he whisked his actress mistress away to a luxury resort in the Swiss Alps, dismissing his betrayal as a mere "business arrangement." When his mistress brazenly appeared in my home, she taunted me, claiming my husband wished I had died in childbirth. Then, she revealed a paternity test claiming my son wasn't his. My husband believed her. He believed the lies of the woman who secretly snuck into our nursery to pinch and bruise our helpless, sleeping baby. He took her side, shielded her from me, and even tried to take my son away to raise with her. I had lost my parents and my brother, and now I was losing everything else. I was an orphan, a betrayed wife, and they were trying to take the only thing I had left: my child. But they underestimated me. They thought Kane Powell was the most powerful person I knew. They were wrong.

His Betrayal, My Steel-Legged Return

The first time my husband tried to have me killed, he used our eight-year-old daughter as the bait. After I discovered his affair with a woman whose college tuition I was paying, he staged our daughter's kidnapping to lure me into a trap. I woke up in a hospital, my legs amputated, my womb removed, a permanent cripple. My husband, Eugene, played the part of the grieving spouse perfectly, promising police he' d find the monsters responsible. But I overheard him whispering to our daughter in the hallway. "You were so brave," he praised her. "You made Mommy believe you were in danger. It was the only way to stop her from leaving us." Her reply destroyed what was left of my soul. "I like Brenna better anyway. She's prettier than Mommy." They thought they had broken me, leaving me a shattered shell of a woman. So I let them believe it. I faked my own suicide and vanished. Now, three years later, I've returned. Standing on two legs of polished steel, I'm the CEO of a robotics empire, and I'm here to burn their world to the ground.

Wife of the Rock God

I gave up my music journalism career, piece by piece, to build Nathaniel Roberts' country music empire. He was my college sweetheart, my golden boy, the man I poured my soul into making a star. Then, his new pop-country princess co-star, Gabrielle, called me, her voice sickeningly sweet, telling me Nathaniel' s credit card was maxed out. She was in our bed, and I heard the rustle of our expensive sheets, the ones I picked out. I didn' t scream, I didn' t cry. I simply packed everything he ever bought me into garbage bags and told him to get out. He laughed, calling me dramatic, but agreed to a divorce, assuming I was after a final payday. He gave me a massive settlement and an iron-clad NDA, smugly believing he' d bought my silence and dignity. Months later, his manager called, oozing fake sympathy, inviting me to a reality show, "Second Takes," for "closure." I knew their true plan: to make me look pathetic, clinging to him so he could gently reject me, cleaning up his image after the cheating scandal. They wanted me to be his public doormat, boosting his new duet with Gabrielle. I sobbed into the phone, playing my part perfectly, swearing I missed him, begging to get him back. But their elaborate scheme was about to backfire spectacularly. They thought I wanted his heart, but I was about to go for his wallet, his freedom, and his entire career.

Too Late, Ethan: The Comeback Queen

My office air, thick with stale coffee and cheap air freshener, always reminded me of the dreams I built with Ethan. We were supposed to marry in a month, invitations sent, a Vera Wang dress waiting, our Boston Harbor Hotel wedding booked. But then, Ethan, my fiancé of ten years, looked at me with what he thought were "soulful" eyes and dropped a bombshell. He was going to marry Sabrina, the scholarship intern my family' s foundation sponsored, to "save" her from a loan shark. He expected my "good heart" to understand this temporary arrangement, this noble sacrifice for a girl he plainly adored. I didn't cry or scream; the pain was a cold stone, but my face was calm. I saw him then, not as the boy I' d known since prep school, but as a weak, pathetic stranger using a flimsy excuse for a dirty affair. He had been counting on my blindness, my willingness to be a doormat. My hands didn' t tremble as I pulled an identical invitation from my Hermès bag. I slid it across his desk: an invitation to my wedding, to Matthew Lester, on the very same day. His disbelief turned to a slack-jawed horror as Sabrina, his tearful damsel, stumbled in. He instantly became her protector, glaring at me, accusing me of scaring her. I simply walked out, leaving the invitation like a time bomb, knowing my humiliation was far from over. The city' s elite whispered as he publicly chose her over me, his "powerful fiancée losing her grip." But they didn' t know the truth: this wasn' t the end of me; it was the start of something new. I tossed my family' s heirloom sapphire engagement ring into a recycling bin and typed my resignation to his company. I knew Ethan would try to cling to me, or worse, retaliate. What he didn' t know was that I was already steps ahead, ready to reclaim everything he thought he could steal.

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

She Took The House, The Car, And My Heart

After two years of marriage, Kristian dropped a bombshell. "She's back. Let's get divorced. Name your price." Freya didn't argue. She just smiled and made her demands. "I want your most expensive supercar." "Okay." "The villa on the outskirts." "Sure." "And half of the billions we made together." Kristian froze. "Come again?" He thought she was ordinary-but Freya was the genius behind their fortune. And now that she'd gone, he'd do anything to win her back.

Rebirth of the Broken Luna: A Second Chance at Luna's Heart

Luna has tried her best to make her forced marriage to Xen work for the sake of their child. But with Riley and Sophia- Xen's ex-girlfriend and her son in the picture. She fights a losing battle. Ollie, Xen's son is neglected by his father for a very long time and he is also suffering from a mysterious sickness that's draining his life force. When his last wish to have his dad come to his 5th birthday party is dashed by his failure to show up, Ollie dies in an accident after seeing his father celebrate Riley's birthday with Sophia and it's displayed on the big advertising boards that fill the city. Ollie dies and Luna follows after, unable to bear the grief, dying in her mate's hands cursing him and begging for a second chance to save her son. Luna gets the opportunity and is woken up in the past, exactly one year to the day Sophia and Riley show up. But this time around, Luna is willing to get rid of everyone and anyone even her mate if he steps in her way to save her son.

Reborn Rich, My Vengeance Rises

My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool. For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office. The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation. My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order. Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve. Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one.

The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.

Jilted Bride's Revenge: The Valkyrie Awakens

I had been a wife for exactly six hours when I woke up to the sound of my husband’s heavy breathing. In the dim moonlight of our bridal suite, I watched Hardin, the man I had adored for years, intertwined with my sister Carissa on the chaise lounge. The betrayal didn't come with an apology. Hardin stood up, unashamed, and sneered at me. "You're awake? Get out, you frumpy mute." Carissa huddled under a throw, her fake tears already welling up as she played the victim. They didn't just want me gone; they wanted me erased to protect their reputations. When I refused to move, my world collapsed. My father didn't offer a shoulder to cry on; he threatened to have me committed to a mental asylum to save his business merger. "You're a disgrace," he bellowed, while the guards stood ready to drag me away. They had spent my life treating me like a stuttering, submissive pawn, and now they were done with me. I felt a blinding pain in my skull, a fracture that should have broken me. But instead of tears, something dormant and lethal flickered to life. The terrified girl who walked down the aisle earlier that day simply ceased to exist. In her place, a clinical system—the Valkyrie Protocol—booted up. My racing heart plummeted to a steady sixty beats per minute. I didn't scream. I stood up, my spine straightening for the first time in twenty years, and looked at Hardin with the detachment of a surgeon looking at a tumor. "Correction," I said, my voice stripped of its stutter. "You're in my light." By dawn, I had drained my father's accounts, vanished into a storm, and found a bleeding Crown Prince in a hidden safehouse. They thought they had broken a mute girl. They didn't realize they had just activated their own destruction.