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Reborn To Swap Husbands With My Sister
Culprit The sensation of falling wasn't like flying; it was heavy, violent, and smelled of burning flesh. Above us, on the crumbling balcony of the Sears manor, Duke Cato Sears turned his back, shielding his cousin Bianca from the smoke as he walked away, leaving my sister Blossom and me to drop into the abyss.
As the darkness slammed shut like an iron door, I realized my entire life had been a cruel script written by the people I called family.
In my first life, I was the sacrificial lamb of the Dawson manor, sold to a man who eventually watched me die without blinking. My sister Blossom had pushed me into Cato's arms to avoid his rumors, only to laugh when the fire finally consumed us both. My father had measured my value like a piece of livestock, and my step-grandmother didn't even acknowledge my existence while I was being led to the slaughter.
I died in that fire, feeling the heat scorch my skin and the weight of a hatred so potent it tasted like bile. I spent twenty years being the weak, manipulated shadow of a girl, only to end up as nothing more than a phantom scorch mark on a "hero's" estate.
I couldn't understand why my own blood treated my life like a game they could discard. The injustice of it all burned hotter than the flames that took my last breath.
Then, I sat up, sucking in air that tasted of lavender and air conditioning, not smoke. I was back in my bedroom, three days before the engagement ball that ruined my life. Blossom stood at the door, her "sweet" mask slipping as she tried to manipulate me into the Duke's path again.
She thought she was the only one who had come back, but she didn't realize that this time, I was going to let her have exactly what she wanted: the Duke, the bankruptcy, and the living hell that awaited her in that house. Shocking Vengeance: War Goddess Returns
PageProfit Studio Once the cherished heiress of the Douglas family, she lost everything when her parents were brutally murdered and she was framed by her own blood. Labeled a criminal, she was cast into prison with no one to trust and nothing to her name.
Six years later, she returns-not as a broken woman, but as the Scarlet Valkyrie, the deadliest warrior in all of Juzora. Her aim is flawless, her signature weapon Manjusaka strikes without mercy, and her name alone sends tremors through the underworld.
With one hand, she saves her ailing grandmother with the precision of a master healer. With the other, she takes down Draco City's most ruthless criminals. But her true purpose is vengeance. Every debt owed, every wound inflicted, every lie told-she will settle them all, with interest.
The war goddess has returned. And the ones who wronged her are about to learn what it means to face the wrath of a legend. The Beast's Bride
Kaosi-ND She was small, too small and too slender too. Her hair, blood red, formed a halo around her body, softly grazing her back. He had noticed specks of dirt on her body but they failed to hide the loveliness and tenderness of her skin, which he could bet would shine once it was cleaned. To put it simply, she was lovely, far more beautiful than any of the other brides, despite the injury on her forehead, which had reduced in size significantly, but still angered him.
He couldn't get a glimpse of her eyes because her head was turned from his but its image was already stuck to his head, a soft violet, which he assumed would gleam if she smiled.
She wasn't smiling though, hadn't smiled since he met her and he had assumed that she hardly ever did. A similarity they probably both shared.
He,again, remembered the swelling on her forehead which got his blood heated.
What made the people of this town hate her so vehemently? What could the lovely, innocent looking girl have probably done to have deserved being thrust upon him?
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18 year old Leila has had a difficult life. Having lost her parents at the young age of 10, she has had to battle to survive, weaving her way through predators, rapists and murderers along the way. However, nothing could have possibly prepared her for the beast of a man whom she was suddenly bound to as wife...
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31 year old Voloukh, leader of men torn from their homes at a young age to act as slave warriors for the Kingdom of Ultar, has been brutally carved to be a killing machine. His features are enough to bestow fear upon the hearts of anyone who dare to gaze upon him. The Beast of the Woods, as he is referred to is hence, shocked when a girl with the most beautiful violet eyes he has ever seen, which however, gaze upon him with trepidation and horror, is given to him to wed... Rebirth: A Sister's Betrayal
Sheelagh Sexton The sound of the front door opening was a nightmare come true-my younger sister, Emily, stood there, not alone, but holding a baby in a cheap pink blanket.
"Surprise! Meet Leo. He' s the newest addition to the Miller family legacy," she announced, her voice sickeningly carefree, echoing the very words that had derailed my life in a past I' d already lived.
My blood ran cold; this exact moment, this casual act of irresponsibility, had led directly to my death before.
My parents, blinded by affection, embraced the child and Emily' s monstrous lie, turning their backs on my desperate pleas for reason.
Consumed by a terrible sense of déjà vu, I remembered the blinding pain, the darkness that consumed me when Emily, armed with one of my own sculptures, ended my previous life for simply asking her to be responsible.
But this time, I wouldn't be the martyr-this time, the cycle would break, and Emily would pay.' The Alpha's Forbidden Blood
udohy He took her body, her trust, and her heart-but tonight, she takes his life.
"...making love to you when I will, which I will..." Alpha Gonzalo Kenyon's eyes danced wickedly, his voice threading with pride and a promise of power. The words slid under Liora's skin like poison, impossible to ignore, and impossible to forget.
They can either walk a mile in her shoes and feel the pain they caused her, or they can sever their legs as they severed her heart.
Only a fish can know how deep the ocean is. Only a bird can know how high the sky is. Only a polar bear can know how cold the Arctic is. Only the betrayed can know how much betrayal hurts.
Slowly, Liora pressed the ceremonial dagger meant for Alpha blood into Gonzalo's chest, the blade sinking deep with chilling finality. Blood surged upward in thick, dark bursts, gushing across his bare skin and pooling around the altar where they had just made love.
Gonzalo's eyes flew open, wild and disbelieving. A snarl twisted his lips, but no words came-only a strangled gasp as his lungs filled with blood. His hands grasped at her wrists, strength faltering, the power that once ruled pack and land draining with every beat of his dying heart.
His bones cracked softly beneath his skin, shifting, as though the wolf inside him was fighting to rise one last time.
Her Pregnancy, My Exodus
Kinship I was Chloe, a frontwoman of "Nightingale & Guitarist," a life I’d painstakingly built with Liam, the struggling musician I’d saved.
For five years, I was his muse, his partner, his wife, having chosen him over my original, shattered reality.
Then, Liam began his affair with Kendra, our ambitious tour assistant.
For three unbearable years, I lived a grotesque parody of a marriage, enduring his blatant betrayals, his gaslighting, and Kendra’s open triumph, as if I had somehow deserved this calculated heartbreak.
The final, crushing blow came on my birthday, backstage, when Kendra callously announced her pregnancy, a child she claimed was Liam's, right after he'd publicly blamed me for her distress.
How could I have given up everything, every piece of my true self, Elara the cellist, only to be reduced to this, a discarded note in their discordant symphony?
Why did I allow myself to be consumed by such a bitter, endless performance?
But a lifeline appeared: The mysterious Dreamweaver system, which had first sent me to Liam, offered a way to finally go back.
To my real life.
To myself.
For ten days, I methodically dismantled every trace of "Chloe," liquidating all the assets, severing every tie, until my final, quiet disappearance at midnight, as gracefully as a fading echo.
Yet, even in my true world, peace was fleeting; Dreamweaver demanded I return, one last time, to quell Liam’s destructive grief, which threatened to unravel the very fabric of his reality.
I had to finish what I started, to play the final, unburdened note. The Senator's Shame: A Scandal Of The Soul
Meng Meng My ex-fiancé, Andrew, and my sister's fiancé, Brian, were powerful men, state senator and chief of staff, constantly parading us, the last two Spirit Weavers of our tribe, as their exotic, sacred accessories.
But when a corporate militia captured us in a desolate cannery, and the men we loved finally showed up, it wasn't to save us.
Terrified for an ambitious intern, Molly Johns, Andrew and Brian screamed to save her, not us.
Then, with cameras rolling, they participated in our brutal torture, nailing our hands to pillars, sawing off my sacred tribal tattoo, tearing my sister' s heirloom earring, and finally, spiking our feet to the ground, leaving us crippled and bleeding for our new captors.
The pain was agonizing, but the betrayal cut deeper. How could the men who claimed to love us mutilate us so cruelly, casting us aside like trash for their political careers? Why did they choose that girl over us, over our ancestral land, over everything?
Just as we were dragged toward a windowless van, a deafening roar filled the air: the Iron Totems MC, led by my childhood friend, Rufus, and my sister's, Caleb, crashed through the police barricade. They rescued us, but then revealed the truth: this entire nightmare was their calculated plot to expose Andrew and Brian, to free us from their poisonous control, and to finally allow us to reclaim our power. 
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