0
TOP UP
Reading History
Sign out
Get the APPRenewed Opportunity
/1/110344/coverorgin.jpg?v=ee9edc19532d5cad4529d092169ad91d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.
Download the Book on the App
I was Chloe, a high school student with Ivy League dreams, just two months shy of the SATs.
Our kind housekeeper, Ms. Evans, offered me a "special calming tea" to ease my nerves.
It wasn't comforting.
It was a soul-swapping recipe that stole my life.
I woke up trapped in the body of Brenda, Ms. Evans's resentful, academically hopeless daughter.
Brenda, in my body, went to the SATs and deliberately caused a horrific scene.
She tore up the test.
They disqualified me.
They blacklisted me.
My parents, blindly trusting Ms. Evans, believed I'd had a breakdown or cheated.
Read Now
/0/82813/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106201116&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shattered Dreams, Renewed Power
I was Chloe, a high school student with Ivy League dreams, just two months shy of the SATs. Our kind housekeeper, Ms. Evans, offered me a "special calming tea" to ease my nerves. It wasn't comforting. It was a soul-swapping recipe that stole my life. I woke up trapped in the body of Brenda, Ms.
Download the Book on the App
