Reborn on the Day of Reckoning

The Silent Luna: Rejected by the Blind Alpha

The sound of his pen scratching against the paper was louder than the thunder outside. Beside me, Dante, the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack, reeked of a sickly, synthetic sweetness—a witch's hex perfume that clouded his mind and made him obsessed with another woman. He tossed a folder onto my lap without even looking at me. "File this with the Council tomorrow," he ordered, his eyes glazed over as he texted his mistress, Sofia. "It's just the logistics report." He didn't know he had just signed our divorce papers. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes in the middle of a dark highway. "Get out," he snarled, his eyes glowing a feral yellow. "Sofia is being attacked. I need the car. You're slowing me down." I froze. "Dante, this is Rogue territory." "Survive," he scoffed. He forced me out of the safety of the SUV and sped away, leaving his Fated Mate standing in the freezing rain to save a mistress who was lying on a yacht. My wolf didn't weep this time. She growled. I looked at the signed document in my hand. He thought he was stripping my access to the treasury, but he had just legally set me free. I didn't wait for him to return. I took the papers, withdrew fifty million dollars from his account, and vanished to the West Coast. When he finally clears the witch's fog from his mind and comes looking for his submissive wife, he won't find Elena the doormat. He will face the White Wolf.

His Heir, Her Escape

I was the woman who pulled my husband, tech billionaire Brayden Quinn, out of the gutter. Our story was a modern fairy tale everyone knew. Then I discovered I was pregnant. But the baby wasn't mine. It was an embryo created by him and my worst enemy, implanted in me without my consent. I was just a surrogate for their heir. When my mother was dying, he refused to help, letting her perish from medical neglect because he was too busy with his mistress. When I tried to leave, he had my lawyer disbarred and locked me in our mansion, a prisoner in a gilded cage. He held me against a wall and told me I was his property forever. After he subjected me to a terrifying medical procedure just to remind me of who was in control, I knew the man I had saved was a monster. He hadn't just betrayed me; he had murdered my mother and stolen my body. So I made a deal with his greatest rival. I sold my controlling stake in his company for five hundred million dollars and a plan to disappear. On the deck of the superyacht he named after me, I faked a miscarriage, set off an explosion, and threw myself into the sea. Brayden Quinn would believe I was dead. He would believe he had driven his wife and his precious heir to suicide. Let him live with that.

Love’s Ashes, Archer’s Regret

Francesca Freeman had loved Archer Collins for ten years, ever since her father brought the skinny, silent boy home from the streets. He became her brother in name, but in her heart, he was always something more. Then, on the night he proposed, she overheard his chilling conversation with Amelia Ball: their engagement was merely the first step in his calculated revenge to destroy her family. Every kiss, every tender word since, was a lie. He called her sick, a monster, and had his men beat her, all while she endured, knowing she was just a pawn in his cruel game. He even gave her murdered mother's last memento to Amelia, the very woman who orchestrated the fire that killed her. She couldn't comprehend such betrayal from the boy she had loved, the one who had vowed to protect her. Why did he believe Amelia's lies over her, over the family who took him in? With her heart turned to ash, Francesca Freeman made a choice: she would erase her identity, disappear completely, and leave Archer to face the consequences of his own blind hatred.

My Husband's Secret Divorce

The fluorescent hum of the DMV was the soundtrack to my boring life, until I tried to replace my lost driver's license. "Your marital status. It says you're divorced," the clerk said, shattering my five-year marriage to Jackson Parks with a single, flat sentence. My husband, Jackson, the man who swore he loved me, had secretly divorced me three years ago. Not only that, he had remarried the very next day to Candida Camacho, the woman who had tried to murder me on my wedding day and left me infertile. And they had a two-year-old son, Joey. I stumbled home, my world a blur, only to find Jackson and Candida in our living room, arguing. "I hate having to pretend for that pathetic woman!" Candida shrieked. Jackson, my husband, pleaded, "I love you. I've always loved you." The man I sacrificed everything for, who swore to destroy her, was now playing house with my attempted murderer, and I was the fool living in his house, sleeping in his bed, believing his lies. The pain in my abdomen, a phantom ache from five years ago, flared to life, mirroring the gaping wound in my soul. I would not be his victim anymore. "Hamilton," I said into the phone, my voice clear and steady. "I need your help. I need you to help me die."

Picking Up The Relationship Trash

"Olivia, we need to break up." I said the words quietly. We were sitting on the couch we' d picked out together two years ago. Instead of concern, she laughed, thinking it was a joke because she forgot almond milk. Then her phone buzzed. It was Liam. Again. "Can we not do this right now? It's Liam. He needs me." It was always Liam. On our anniversary, the night my grandmother died. He always had a crisis only Olivia could solve. He arrived less than twenty minutes later, looking pale and distressed. He saw me, and his voice, laced with fake vulnerability, faltered. "Olivia said you guys were having a talk. I can go if this is a bad time. I just… I had another panic attack." He looked at Olivia, playing the victim, making me the bad guy. I' d seen this a hundred times: the late-night calls, the fabricated emergencies. I felt a snap inside me. "You' re always having a panic attack, Liam," I blurted. "You strategically dismantle. You make sure you are always the priority." Liam recoiled, his face crumbling. Olivia' s face hardened, disappointment aimed squarely at me. "Noah, stop it. You know he struggles. How can you be so cruel?" She moved to Liam' s side, placing a protective arm around him. She was comforting him. From me. My heart dissolved. I was the outsider. "I' m tired of coming in second place to him. I' m tired of being the bad guy for wanting a partner, not a part-time caregiver for your friend." I grabbed my bag. As I walked out, Olivia' s voice, thick with disbelief, followed me. "You' re really leaving? Over this? You' re just going to throw everything away because you' re jealous?" I stopped but didn' t turn. "It was already thrown away, Liv. I' m just the one finally picking up the trash." I closed the door.

Disowned Daughter, Reborn Artist

I was the golden girl, the champion equestrian, adored by my father, cherished by my brother, and deeply in love with my high school sweetheart, living a perfect suburban life. Then, on my 18th birthday, everything shattered when my father brought home Maria, a "troubled teen" he adopted, and suddenly, I ceased to exist. My father, brother, and even the boy I loved, Ethan, turned their backs on me, falling for Maria' s fragile, manipulative act, consistently choosing her over me, climaxing with them missing my college graduation for her regional play. When I confronted them about their abandonment, my own father struck me, my brother coldly told me to "get out," and later, after I cooked a meal to try for closure, they accused me of poisoning Maria, believing her fabricated allergic reaction. Utterly broken and disowned, I fled in a thunderstorm, leaving behind the only family I'd ever known, not realizing it was just the beginning of my rebirth.

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.

Abandoned Wife, Billionaire Revenge

My husband promised me forever, but gave me endless lies. On our anniversary, I found his secrets on social media, exposed by his mistress. He didn't just break my heart; he broke my entire world. Seraphina sat alone in her opulent mansion, preparing their anniversary dinner, feeling the suffocating weight of her cold, hollow marriage. An Instagram post from Tiffany Sloan then brazenly revealed Harrison's hand at a romantic dinner, shattering his flimsy excuses and exposing his blatant infidelity. The betrayal turned Seraphina's despair into cold resolve. He gaslighted her, dismissed her pain, and reminded her she was "nothing." He chose his mistress over her dying brother, caused her to break an ankle, and finally abandoned her on a desolate street corner, stripped of dignity. How could she have sacrificed her entire violin career for a man who so casually discarded her? Under that bridge, her foolish love died, leaving only a fierce desire for reclamation. Shivering and alone, a faded flyer for a violin teacher caught her eye. It was a defiant whisper of her old self, a promise: Seraphina Vanderbilt was gone, and a new Seraphina was finally free.

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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.

Too Late, Hubby, I'm The Tycoon's Darling Now!

For three years, Averie pushed herself through a secret marriage, waiting for the day she could finally wear a white dress and be seen as his wife. The night before she could finally walk down the aisle, he confessed without a hint of hesitation that he was marrying the woman who once rescued him instead. The "fake" divorce agreement she signed for him shattered into a real, icy breakup that finally freed her wounded heart. When he returned in remorse, begging for just one more chance, a ruthless business magnate pulled Averie close and muttered coldly, "You're too late. She's my woman now."

Unmasking My Shunned Wife: She Hid A Thousand Identities

Abandoned as a child and orphaned by murder, Kathryn swore she'd reclaim every shred of her stolen birthright. When she returned, society called her an unpolished love-child, scoffing that Evan had lost his mind to marry her. Only Evan knew the truth: the quiet woman he cradled like porcelain hid secrets enough to set the city trembling. She doubled as a legendary healer, an elusive hacker, and the royal court's favorite perfumer. At meetings, the directors groaned at the lovey-dovey couple, "Does she really have to be here?" Evan shrugged. "Happy wife, happy life." Soon her masks fell, and those who sneered bowed in awe.

The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it—she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future. "Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother’s trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead. I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent—or finish me off for good. I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything. I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it. "I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing." He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father’s entire empire.