Reborn on My 21st: The Heiress's Payback

The Unwanted Omega: Rise Of The White Wolf

I was the brilliant mind behind the Thorne Pack's defenses, yet as an Omega, I was treated worse than a servant. My "Chosen Mate," Alpha Marcus, used my blueprints to build his reputation while I scrubbed his floors. Everything changed the day the elevator cable snapped. It wasn't an accident; it was a silver-coated trap set by Isabelle, the woman Marcus was parading around as his new favorite. As I lay in the hospital, silver poison scorching my veins, the doctor begged Marcus for the antidote authorization. Without it, my wolf would die. But Marcus didn't even look up from his phone. "Not now," he dismissed, stroking Isabelle’s hand. "Isabelle scraped her knee when the building shook. She's terrified. Eleanor is tough; she'll survive." He walked away, leaving me to endure surgery without anesthesia. I screamed until my throat bled, feeling every cut, every stitch. In that agony, the foolish girl who loved him finally died. When he returned days later, expecting me to beg for his attention, I didn't bow. I stood up, my eyes glowing with a power he had never seen. "I, Eleanor Vance, reject you." The bond snapped with a thunderous crack. As Marcus fell to his knees in shock, the door opened. Julian Croft, the Alpha King, stepped in. He looked past my ex-mate writhing on the floor, locked his golden eyes on mine, and smiled. "I believe," he rumbled, "the lady is finished with you."

The Price Of His Twisted Love

Eight years ago, my husband, Greyson, framed me for a car accident that cost me my legs, my parents, and my unborn child. He did it all to protect another woman, his political prodigy friend, Isla. He threw me in prison for three years, using my mother's fragile life as leverage to keep me silent and compliant. I was his puppet, a broken ballerina whose only escape was the phantom ache of a dance I could no longer perform. After I was released, broken and alone, he knelt before me on my comeback stage, confessing everything to a live audience. He admitted he faked the explicit photos that ruined my name and that Isla was the one who hit me with her car. He said he did it all for love, a twisted, possessive love that destroyed everything it touched. But his confession had a price. He had already killed Isla. And as he was sentenced to death, he had one last request: to see me.

He Chose Lies, I Chose Leaving

I went through many trials and tribulations and finally found my husband's long-lost younger sister. But by the time I found her, she was on the brink of death. In my haste to get her to the hospital, I accidentally crashed into a red sports car. The female driver demanded that I apologize, as well as pay a million for repair costs. I argued, "It was clearly your reckless lane changing that caused the accident. Why should all the blame fall on me? Besides, in a life-or-death situation, can't you let me take the injured to the hospital first?" The woman ruthlessly pushed me to the ground. "Shut up, you low-life! My husband just bought this car for me today, and running into people like you is such bad luck! My husband is the heir of the Blakely family, the wealthiest family in the city. We wouldn't care if it cost a dozen lives!" I was stunned for a few seconds. The heir of the Blakely family? So, this arrogant woman in front of me was my husband Nixon's mistress? Should I just walk away from his sister? But her grandfather had been desperately searching for her

From Fiancée To Fortune

Our engagement party was everything I had dreamed of, bathed in the warm glow of chandeliers, my heart full as I squeezed Ethan' s hand. Five years, finally official. We were the perfect couple. But then, a piercing wail shattered the perfect facade. Ethan' s ten-year-old niece, Lily, pointed a trembling finger at me, accusing me of "indecent" behavior-a simple kiss. His sister-in-law, Chloe, twisted the narrative, claiming Lily was traumatized, and shockingly, Ethan walked right past me to comfort her, leaving me humiliated and frozen. The man I was about to marry, the man who was supposed to be my partner, was prioritizing a carefully staged tantrum over my feelings, over us. When the sacred symbol of our commitment, my engagement ring, was purposely dislodged and he allowed Lily to "retrieve" it as a family ritual, I began to see the cold, hard truth: I was an outsider in his life, and he was choosing them. Then, walking into the suite that was supposed to be ours, I found it filled with Chloe and Lily' s belongings, our master bedroom claimed, and a lacy nightgown that wasn't mine. The realization hit me: this wasn't just about weakness or family loyalty; it was a deliberate, intimate invasion, a calculated act of displacement before our life even began. My entire world began to crumble as I was accused of embezzlement, my career ripped away, and Ethan called, asking me to confess to a crime I didn' t commit "for the family." Why was I the target? Why was he so willing to sacrifice me? How could the man I loved be orchestrating my downfall? The pieces clicked into place with a screenshot: Ethan had set up the shell corporation. My betrayal was a meticulously planned conspiracy to steal my inheritance. I held my head high as the police arrived to arrest me, knowing I had a fight on my hands, but I was ready.

A Debt of Time and Tears

The flickering cursor on my screen was the only constant; my life, a developer' s dream turned broke reality, spiraled with every line of code that built debt instead of worlds. My wife, Chloe, a sharp, cold woman, shared my last name but not my life, her presence in our sterile home a constant reminder of everything we' d lost. Then, a black box popped up on my monitor, a simple command prompt with a blinking green line: "Cosmic Stream Initialized. Observing Universe C-782." It showed a live feed, grainy and unstable, of a college dorm room, and in it was Chloe, ten years younger, radiating an idealism I hadn' t seen since our own college days. My fingers trembled. Was this a hack? A cruel prank? I typed a desperate message, witnessing her jump, then her young voice calling out from my speakers, "Who's there? Is this a prank?" Overwhelmed, I learned I could see and talk to her, across a decade of time. I couldn' t tell her who I was: her future husband, about to be ground to dust. No, I had to be something she could trust. "I am a System," I typed, the words feeling foreign and powerful, "A guidance protocol designed to help you achieve your optimal future." She challenged me, "Prove it." I dredged up a memory, a story about her childhood dog, Rusty, about her hidden copy of "The Last Unicorn." Her face paled, then tears welled. She believed me. This young, trusting Chloe, the one the world hadn' t broken yet, believed in me. A terrifying, exhilarating sense of power washed over me. I had a chance, a chance to undo everything. I had to start with the man who would poison her soul and my life. My first directive to Past Chloe: "A man named Mark will approach you within the week... Do not, under any circumstances, trust him."

The Price of His Ambition

The dust and the agony were my first sensations-my right leg a grinding hell, Lily clutched tight against my chest as growls surrounded us. Then, the thumping. A helicopter, David' s face. He knelt, his suit dirty, grief etched on his face as he saw our daughter, limp in my arms. I woke to the sterile hospital, a dull throb where my leg had been. And then, I heard voices from the hall-David and his mother. "The leg is gone," David said, his voice cold, stripped of sorrow. "It' s cleaner this way. She' ll live." "It solves the problem," his mother, Eleanor, agreed, devoid of sorrow. "The inheritance is secure." My blood ran cold as I heard David whisper the chilling truth: "I needed a legitimate reason to get rid of Sarah. Her injury allows me to bring Monica into the picture, making everything look legitimate." Monica, his new assistant? His fiancée? "And the girl?" Eleanor' s voice was even colder. "Lily was just collateral damage. Honestly, it' s for the best. Now, it' s just Monica' s child to think about." My heart monitor screamed. The man who had sobbed over our daughter, who had held my hand, had orchestrated this. He had fed us to those dogs. Lily was my world, sacrificed for money. The love, the trust, the family-all shattered. He hadn' t rescued me; he had inspected his work. The matriarch confirmed it: "No one will question it." This was their plan. My daughter' s death, a business solution. I was utterly alone, surrounded by monsters. Eleanor brought Monica, who beamed with practiced pity. Then David announced the final blow: "She' s pregnant." An heir. My Lily, extinguished to make way for this celebration. A raw sound tore from my throat. David rushed to me, feigning concern, reaching out. I flinched from his fire-like touch. "I want to see her," I rasped, my voice a dry whisper. "Lily," I choked out. "I want to see my baby." He hesitated, then gave in, still playing the doting husband. My agreement wasn' t a victory; it was another move in his sick game. But I needed to see my girl. The next morning, he brought a small wooden box. "This is her," he said. I clutched it, raw sobs tearing through me. He feigned sorrow, but I knew. Eleanor had chosen the park, a remote spot. A trap. I remembered the glint of binoculars on the ridge-He had watched. He hadn' t been in a board meeting. He was my enemy. And I had to survive him. Monica returned, carrying soup, her voice dripping with false care. She watched David fuss over her, then poured the soup down the sink. "You don' t really think he wants you to recover, do you?" she purred, stripping away her mask. "Your little 'injury' ... he made sure saving it wasn' t a priority." "What are you talking about?" I whispered. She ripped back the blanket. Where my leg should have been, there was only empty space, bandaged tightly. He hadn' t just let me get injured; he' d had it removed. He had dismembered me. "It' s just some dog' s ashes," Monica scoffed, gesturing to the box. "There is no body. The dogs he trained… they were very hungry." My Lily, torn apart. Buddy, our loving dog, used as live bait. My body trembled with pure, white-hot hatred. David walked in. Monica cried, "She tried to attack me!" "Why didn' t you just die in that park?" he snarled. "It would have made everything so much easier." The truth. No pretense. No grief. Just his selfish wish for my death. Eleanor entered, fussing over Monica, ignoring me. "You could have harmed my grandchild." I was surrounded: the perpetrator, the accomplice, the mastermind. All judging me. The last flicker of the woman I was died. "She won' t bother you again," David growled, leading Monica away. "The whole attack was to clear the way for you. For us. It' s tragic, it' s romantic. It' s perfect." He laid out the conspiracy like a corporate takeover. Lily' s death, a necessary plot point. My dismemberment, a convenient excuse. We were liquidated assets. A strange calm washed over me. The love was gone. The hurt transformed into something hard and sharp. He was my enemy. And I had to survive him. Monica, radiant in a new dress, taunted me. "A simple girl like me could give him the one thing you never could." I stared, my resolve firm. At Lily' s memorial, I sat numb in a wheelchair, a prop in David' s performance. In the town car home, the plan was in motion. The park ranger, already suspicious of David, had given me a burner phone. The car swerved, plunged into the ravine. Blackness. "Missing?" David roared at the scene, refusing to believe my body was gone. Days he searched, his voice raw. "She' s gone," Monica snapped, "We need to move on." "Get away from me!" he spat. Her cold cruelty finally disgusted him. The first crack. His paranoia spread. Monica, impatient, had bribed a guard to orchestrate the crash and invent an affair. "It was Monica!" the guard finally confessed. "The pregnancy… it' s fake!" David stood frozen. He had murdered his family for a lie. Eleanor slapped Monica. "You made us kill my granddaughter for nothing!" David, emotionless, ordered them taken to the hunting cabin. A death sentence. "Sarah knew!" Monica shrieked, dragged away. "She heard everything! She played you!" His show of grief, a mockery. The shame, a poison. He fell to his knees, utterly broken. He offered millions, haunted. "Please, just one more day," he' d beg, clutching Lily' s photo. But I was alive. Pulled from the wreck by a kind RV couple, three years passed in quiet peace, my past a blank. They called me Jane. Then, in Arizona, he walked in. Three years had ravaged him. Our eyes met. A lightning strike. The dogs, Lily' s face, the ashes, Monica' s taunts-all flooded back. I nearly collapsed. "Sarah?" he breathed, disbelief, hope, horror on his face. "You' re alive." I recoiled. "Don' t you touch me." "I' m so sorry," he stammered, tears in his eyes. "I was a monster." "You murdered our daughter," I said, cold. "You had my leg cut off. You are just evil." Jack, my new father, stepped in. "You need to leave." David fell to his knees. "Please, forgive me!" He held a letter opener to his leg. "A leg for a leg!" "You want to make it up to me? You can' t," I said. "Your punishment, David, is to live, every single day, with the knowledge of what you did. You will never be forgiven." I turned, walked away with Jack, and never saw him again. Months later, David Miller, disgraced CEO, drove off the same ravine. No escape. His company collapsed. Karma. I continued my life on the road. Sometimes, in the desert sunset, I feel Lily' s warm presence. She' s free. And so am I. The world is vast, and I am ready.

The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon

For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"

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.

Fated To The World's Richest Man

The day Lilah found out that she was pregnant, she caught her fiancé cheating on her. Her remorseless fiancé and his mistress almost killed her. Lilah fled for her dear life. When she returned to her hometown five years later, she happened to save a little boy's life. The boy's father turned out to be the world's richest man. Everything changed for Lilah from that moment. The man didn't let her experience any inconvenience. When her ex-fiancé bullied her, he crushed the scumbag's family and also rented out an entire island just to give Lilah a break from all the drama. He also taught Lilah's hateful father a lesson. He crushed all her enemies before she even asked. When Lilah's vile sister threw herself at him, he showed her a marriage certificate and said, "I'm happily married and my wife is much more beautiful than you are!" Lilah was shocked. "When did we ever get married? Last I checked, I was still single." With a wicked smile, he said, "Honey, we've been married for five years. Isn't it about time we had another child together?" Lilah's jaw dropped to the floor. What the hell was he talking about?

Celestial Queen: Revenge Is Sweet When You're A Zillionaire Heiress

After being kicked out of her home, Harlee learned she wasn't the biological daughter of her family. Rumors had it that her impoverished biological family favored sons and planned to profit from her return. Unexpectedly, her real father was a zillionaire, catapulting her into immense wealth and making her the most cherished member of the family. While they anticipated her disgrace, Harlee secretly held design patents worth billions. Celebrated for her brilliance, she was invited to mentor in a national astronomy group, drew interest from wealthy suitors, and caught the eye of a mysterious figure, ascending to legendary status.

Poor Billionaire Wife: Who Is The Real Boss

Everyone was shocked to the bones when the news of Rupert Benton's engagement broke out. It was surprising because the lucky girl was said to be a plain Jane, who grew up in the countryside and had nothing to her name. One evening, she showed up at a banquet, stunning everyone present. "Wow, she's so beautiful!" All the men drooled, and the women got so jealous. What they didn't know was that this so-called country girl was actually an heiress to a billion-dollar empire. It wasn't long before her secrets came to light one after the other. The elites couldn't stop talking about her. "Holy smokes! So, her father is the richest man in the world?" "She's also that excellent, but mysterious designer who many people adore! Who would have guessed?" Nonetheless, people thought that Rupert didn't love her. But they were in for another surprise. Rupert released a statement, silencing all the naysayers. "I'm very much in love with my beautiful fiancee. We will be getting married soon." Two questions were on everyone's minds: "Why did she hide her identity? And why was Rupert in love with her all of a sudden?"

His Billions Can't Buy Her Forgiveness Now

The scissors made a sickening crunch as I severed the long hair Marcus worshipped. For three years, I had been his "silk anchor," the hidden woman who grounded him while he conquered New York. But as the dark strands hit the porcelain sink, my phone lit up with a news alert that shattered my world. *Thorne Enterprises CEO Marcus Thorne and Isabella Vance announce engagement.* While I was waiting for his call, he was sliding a massive diamond onto another woman's finger. At the gala that night, I was forced to watch them. Izzy leaned across the table, her voice sweet enough to rot teeth. "You look exhausted, Olivia. Especially now that you're... alone." Marcus didn't defend me. He didn't even look at me. He just swirled his scotch and told me to focus on the merger data, dismissing me like an inconvenient employee rather than the woman he swore to protect. He thought I was a pragmatist. He thought I would stay in the shadows, accepting the scraps of his affection while he married for power. He was wrong. I went home and packed my life into a single suitcase. I took the river rock he had carved for me—the one he called his anchor—and left it on the empty easel with a note in black marker. *You were my rock. Now you’re just a stone.* By the time he realized his mistake and came pounding on my door, I was already gone, flying toward a new life in Montana where he couldn't reach me.