Reborn To Ruin Them

A Husband's Fatal Choice

Today was our fifth wedding anniversary. My husband, Mark, walked in with a woman who was young, Chinese, and very pregnant. He introduced her as his assistant, Mei, as she surveyed our home with an air of ownership, her eyes pointedly avoiding mine. Mei' s gaze finally landed on me, laced with cold condescension. "Sarah, right?" she purred. "Hand-wash my lingerie. And later, when Mark and I are together, you can kneel and serve us." My heart turned to ice as Mark just smiled, seeing nothing wrong. I saw the tech-neck, the calculated cruelty in her eyes - this wasn' t just an affair; it was a deliberate humiliation. Then, Mark scoffed, "Oh, here we go again. This tired act. Honestly, Sarah, I' m more bored of this than I am of sleeping with you." Their cruel laughter echoed, and I knew: something inside me had finally snapped. I walked forward, took their hands, forced them together. "For people from such a 'cultured' background," I said, my voice low and clear, "you both sure act like animals." "Since the 'Mrs. Miller' title is so great, you can have it. You two enjoy your happily ever after. Just leave the rest of us out of your mess." I turned my back, walking out, remembering my father' s forgotten warning: Men change, Sarah. Be careful who you give your heart to. I barely stepped onto the cold pavement when Mark' s voice cut through the air. "Come back here and sign the divorce papers." He thrust them at me, demanding I sign for Mei' s peace of mind, promising to remarry me later. His words were hollow, a broken record of lies. Then, his eyes landed on my jade pendant, a gift from our first anniversary. "Mei has been having nightmares," he said, demanding it. "She needs it." I hesitated, clutching the last symbol of the man I thought I married. "What, you can' t even pretend to be composed now? It' s just a necklace." With a sharp movement, I tore it off. Mei snatched it, her triumphant glint turning to feigned clumsiness as she let it shatter at her feet. "Oh, dear," she cooed, then gasped, pressing her leg. "Ouch! A shard… it cut me." Mark panicked, fumbling for his phone. Mei looked up at me, her voice just loud enough, "Sarah… I know you' re upset. But you didn' t have to do that. I know you weren' t trying to curse my baby on purpose… right?" Mark' s head snapped up, his fury now blazing at me. "What did you say?" he snarled. "It' s nothing, Mark," Mei sobbed, clinging to him. "Sarah didn' t mean it." His hand swung through the air. SLAP. I stumbled, falling onto the shattered jade. A sharp pain shot through my hand as green shards embedded themselves in my palm. Blood welled. Mark stood over me, chest heaving. "Apologize! What the hell is wrong with you, Sarah? You were never like this!" He roared for an apology, for a crime I didn' t commit. The man who once defended me was now a stranger, consumed by hate. I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. Slowly, I pushed myself up, ignoring the intense pain. "I can' t do it," I said, my voice steady. "I can' t apologize." His face turned a dangerous red. He grabbed my other arm, fingers digging in. "Fine! If you won' t apologize, then you' ll compensate her. Give me that bracelet." It was my mother' s, my last connection to her. "No! You can' t have this!" I clutched my wrist, pulling back. Just as he lunged, a terrifying grinding sound came from above. The huge chandelier swayed, then plummeted towards me. There was no time to think. So this is how it ends. Mark yanked Mei away, shielding her, not even glancing at me. "Sarah!" he screamed, but it was too late. The world exploded in a crash of shattering glass. I was alive, somehow. Mark, seeing Mei was safe, scrambled over, his panic replaced by cold suspicion. I woke in a sterile hospital room, Mark by my bed, his face stone. "You' re awake? Stop pretending. It didn' t even hit you." "The chandelier…" My voice was hoarse. "Don' t bother," he cut me off. "The servants confessed. You paid them to loosen the screws. You wanted to hurt Mei." It was a complete, fabricated lie. Mei was wheeled in, dabbing her eyes. "Oh, Mark," she trembled. "Don' t be so hard on her. I' m sure she didn' t mean for it to be so… dramatic. I forgive her." Her flawless performance painted me as the crazy, jealous wife. I wanted to scream, but what was the point? The truth didn' t matter. It was whatever Mei said it was. I just laughed, a dry, bitter sound. Exhaustion washed over me. It was hopeless. Mark took my silence as admission. "Since you refuse to apologize," he said, chillingly matter-of-fact, "we' ll have to find another way for you to compensate Mei." He gestured to Mei. "Her leg was scratched. The doctor said it might leave a scar. We' ve arranged a small skin graft surgery. We' ll use some of your skin to repair the damage." Skin graft? From me? "You… what?" I stammered. "It' s just a small patch," he soothed, "from your inner arm. A doctor will be here soon." He was serious. My body, to punish me. A primal scream tore from my throat. "NO!" I thrashed wildly. The IV needle ripped out, blood trickling. "You can' t do this! What did I do wrong? Why are you bullying me?!" He grabbed my shoulders. "Sarah, stop it! Mei is all alone here. She' s been crying nonstop!" His pathetic excuses blurred. He knew I had no one, having rebelled against my family for him. He was using it to destroy me. "Sarah, just calm down," he pleaded. "After the baby is born, I' ll divorce Mei. I' ll remarry you, I swear it!" The same old promise. The same meaningless lie. This lie, finally, gave me clarity. My screaming stopped. My thrashing ceased. "Get out," I said, my voice eerily calm. I reached for my phone, hands shaking, and scrolled to a single entry untouched for seven years: "A." I pressed call. He answered on the first ring. "Come and get me," I whispered, then hung up. My life was about to change forever, but first, I had to survive.

The CEO's Runaway Wife and Secret Heir

I was Hart Whitney’s "contract wife" for three years before I vanished, taking nothing but a secret and a scar that would never heal. Now, the billionaire CEO had tracked me down to a rainy suburb in Seattle, ready to drag me back to New York just to get the signature he needed to unlock his family trust. But when he stormed into my small house, he didn't just find a runaway employee; he found a three-year-old boy with his exact gray eyes and a nervous habit of spinning a pen that was a mirror image of his own. "He’s not yours," I lied, clutching my son to my chest as Hart looked at him with cold, cynical disbelief. He forced us onto his private jet, treating me like a corporate thief and my son like a scandalous mistake. In New York, his socialite fiancée, Isadora, tried to poison my son with a "gift" of hazelnut chocolate and publicly humiliated me by exposing the jagged burn scar on my back—the very scar I earned saving Hart’s life in a fire three years ago, a heroic act Isadora had stolen credit for. I couldn't understand how a man so brilliant could be so blind. He believed a faked DNA test over the evidence of his own eyes. He let his fiancée torment the woman who had bled for him and the child who shared his soul, all while I sat in the corner of his office, invisible and broken. It wasn't until my son lay dying in a hospital bed, needing a blood transfusion so rare it only ran in the Whitney family, that the truth finally broke through Hart's icy exterior. As Hart watched his own blood flow into our son's veins, he finally realized he hadn't been hunting a traitor—he had been destroying the only people who ever truly loved him.

The Discarded Husband's Spectacular Comeback

I spent three hours searing the perfect wagyu steak and chilling a bottle of 1996 Dom Pérignon for our anniversary. My wife, Evelin, texted me saying she was stuck in a late board meeting. "Don't wait up." But a bank alert on my phone told a different story: a $5,600 charge at a VIP lounge in the Meatpacking District. When I tracked her down, I didn't find her in a boardroom; I found her sitting on my business partner's lap, laughing as he fed her chocolate-covered strawberries. When I confronted them, Evelin didn't even look guilty. She called me hysterical and a "prude" for interrupting their night. Hank mocked me to my face, calling me a pathetic "trophy husband" who was probably home ironing napkins while they were out having real fun. When I finally snapped and defended my dignity, my own wife slapped me across the face and had her security throw me out like trash. "You are nothing without the Carney name. You're a stray I picked up." By the time I hit the sidewalk, she had frozen all our joint accounts and blacklisted my name from every major firm in the city. I had spent ten years managing her family's billions and fixing the books her lover messed up, only to be left with ten dollars in my pocket and a suitcase full of dusty law books. She thinks I'm a broken man who will come crawling back to beg for mercy just to afford a meal. I realized then that our marriage was just a corpse I'd been dragging around, and she was the monster who had killed it years ago. I felt the sting of her slap and the weight of her betrayal, wondering how I could have been so blind to the person I shared a bed with. Standing in a cramped apartment in Queens, I blocked her number and called a "shark" lawyer I hadn't spoken to since law school. "I'm the biggest shark in the tank, Dom. Let her try to ruin you." Evelin thinks she took everything, but she forgot one thing: I'm the one who knows exactly where the bodies are buried in her family's ledgers. The war has just begun.

Signed Away: His New Wife

In my past life, I died alone in a sterile hospital bed while my fiancé, Dyllan, comforted his "foster sister" Heather through a fake panic attack. He missed the birth and death of our child because Heather was "too delicate" to be left alone. Even as I took my last breath, he was wiping away her crocodile tears, ignoring my desperate calls. I sacrificed my dreams, my money, and my life for him, only to be a forgotten footnote. But when I opened my eyes, I was back at the City Hall counter, the marriage license waiting. Dyllan tapped his foot impatiently, checking his phone. "Hurry up, Ivy. Heather called. She' s having an episode. She needs me." The old Ivy would have trembled and obeyed, desperate for his approval. But I just smiled, a cold, calculated expression he didn't recognize. "Go to her," I said, pushing him toward the door. "I'll handle the paperwork. Family comes first, right?" He rushed out without a backward glance, relieved to be the hero again. Left alone with the official document, I didn't write my own name on the bride's line. With a steady hand and a heart full of vengeance, I wrote Heather Rosales. Congratulations, Dyllan. You're legally married to the burden you love so much. And I am finally free.

The Alpha's Unwanted Omega Medicine

For three years, I was Alpha Kaelen's secret. My touch was the only cure for the silver-poison curse that wracked his body with agony, and he promised that if he hadn't found his fated mate by my twenty-fifth birthday, he would choose me. On my twenty-fifth birthday, he brought home another woman. He demanded the key to his penthouse back and tossed a limitless credit card on the bed. "This is for your service," he said coldly. His new love, Lila, was a master manipulator. When she framed me for kidnapping her, Kaelen nearly drowned my sick mother in a swamp to force a confession out of me. When she framed me again for pushing her grandmother, he slapped me in front of the entire pack and demanded I kneel. I couldn't understand how the man who once protected me could become my greatest tormentor, blinded by a conniving she-wolf. The final straw came when his curse flared up. He tried to force himself on me, only to accuse me of trying to trap him when Lila walked in. That day, I severed our bond and left for a rival pack, where my childhood friend—my fated second-chance mate—had just woken from a six-year coma.

My Husband's Twisted Secret Life

My husband took me to a secluded villa for the weekend to honor the fifth anniversary of his sister's death. But I found her alive, laughing on the patio with him and my parents. They were bouncing a little boy on their laps-a boy with my husband's hair and his "dead" sister's eyes. I heard Mark call me his "dutiful, grieving wife," laughing about how easy I was to fool. My own mother looked at Annelise with a love she had never once shown me. My entire five-year marriage was a performance designed to keep me occupied while they lived their real lives in secret. He didn't just confess; he told me I was nothing but a "convenient solution." Then he revealed their final plan: they had already arranged to have me involuntarily committed to a psychiatric hospital, using my fabricated "grief" as the reason. I ran. After setting a fire as a diversion, I hid in a ditch by the main road, my life in ashes. With nowhere else to turn, I made a desperate call to the one person I knew my husband feared: his biggest rival.

Traded Husbands, Tangled Hearts: Can Destiny Be Changed?

In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end. Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced. This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak. Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely. Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings?

Her Marriage Was A Lie, Her Happy Ending Wasn't

Three years into marriage, Rachael gave her all to Xander, even secretly using her newfound heiress fortune to save his struggling company. But the truth shattered her—her marriage certificate was fake, and his "childhood friend" was his real wife all along. When she confronted him, he shrugged her off with, "She's just a friend." Enough was enough. Rachael went back to her real family, soared in her career, and married Xander's rival. When Xander begged for another chance, her new husband pulled her close, flashing their marriage certificate. "She's already married—to me."

Billionaire Boss? Nah, Just A Possessive Husband!

I just got my billionaire husband to sign our divorce papers. He thinks it's another business document. Our marriage was a business transaction. I was his secretary by day, his invisible wife by night. He got a CEO title and a rebellion against his mother; I got the money to save mine. The only rule? Don't fall in love. I broke it. He didn't. So I'm cashing out. Thirty days from now, I'm gone. But now he's noticing me. Touching me. Claiming me. The same man who flaunts his mistresses is suddenly burning down a nightclub because another man insulted me. He says he'll never let me go. But he has no idea I'm already halfway out the door. How far will a billionaire go to keep a wife he never wanted until she tried to leave?

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.

Fake Mating To My Ex's Powerful Enemy

All my life, I've been the backup daughter. My sister Beatrice got everything-love, attention, the golden child treatment.I got leftovers and reminders I wasn't good enough. Until I discovered Niall,gorgeous Alpha from the neighboring pack,was my fated mate. Finally, my turn to be chosen. God, I was naive. Four years of engagement hell.Bleaching my hair to suit his tastes. Squeezing into tight dresses, playing his personal maid-only to hear I'd make a better servant than mate. All because his heart belonged to my sister. That night,I accidentally knocked over their picture frame. He slapped me. Hard. Said I'd never measure up to her. So I slapped him back, tore up their photo, and accepted rejection. I thought it was over. Until I caught them at the club, laughing about how pathetic my four years of trying had been. The whole engagement was their sick game. Drunk and furious, I did something reckless with my mysterious neighbor. Alpha Hudson -face carved by gods, danger in every perfectly tailored line. Most importantly, he's my ex's nemesis. So? Best sex of my life. I thought it was a one-night stand to forget. Wrong Again. He's richer than Niall, more powerful than my family, and infinitely more dangerous. And he's not letting me go. This time, I won't be anybody's second choice.

He Chose First Love, I Chose the Alpha King

I gave him three years of silent devotion behind a mask I never wanted to wear. I made a wager for our bond-he paid me off like a mistress. "Chloe's back," Zane said coldly. "It's over." I laughed, poured wine on his face, and walked away from the only love I'd ever known. "What now?" my best friend asked. I smiled. "The real me returns." But fate wasn't finished yet. That same night, Caesar Conrad-the Alpha every wolf feared-opened his car door and whispered, "Get in." Our gazes collided. The bond awakened. No games. No pretending. Just raw, unstoppable power. "Don't regret this," he warned, lips brushing mine. But I didn't. Because the mate I'd been chasing never saw me. And the one who did? He's ready to burn the world for me.