Disowned Daughter, Reborn Artist

Disowned Daughter, Reborn Artist

Adalynn

5.0
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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.

Introduction

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.

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Other books by Adalynn

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Picking Up The Relationship Trash

Picking Up The Relationship Trash

Modern

5.0

"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.

Reborn on the Day of Reckoning

Reborn on the Day of Reckoning

Billionaires

5.0

The faint line on the pregnancy test glowed, a stark white against the cold marble. My hand trembled, not with joy, but with the icy grip of a memory that chilled me to the bone. This was the day, the exact day it all began to unravel in my first life. Ethan, my charming, ambitious husband, a rising Harrison political star. And Seraphina, my beautiful, "golden child" stepsister, who always got what she wanted. I remembered their smiles, their whispers, and how they destroyed me. The searing pain of the car veering off the road, the blinding headlights, Sera' s triumphant sneer in the shadows just before the end. They wanted my inheritance, my position, and my very existence gone. My baby, this tiny, unformed life inside me now, had died with me then. Their betrayal was complete, my fate sealed. How could they have been so cruel, so calculating, to orchestrate such a gruesome end for a naive wife and her unborn child? The bitter injustice had consumed me, haunting my final moments. Yet, here I was. Reborn. I was actually back, precisely on the day of my first demise. The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor, or perhaps, a penchant for second acts. But this time, I wouldn' t be the unaware victim. Ava Harrison would no longer be a naive fool, easily dazzled and discarded. This time, Ava Harrison would be the one pulling the strings. My objective was clear, etched in the remembered pain: secure my child' s future, and make them all pay. Every single one of them. My revenge finally begins tonight.

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He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

SHANA GRAY
4.6

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

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