This Time, I Fight Back: The CEO's Daughter Returns

When Pity Dies: Her Sweet Revenge

The harsh clang of the school bell ripped me from a nightmare. One moment, I was bleeding out on the cold community center floor, choked by smoke and gasoline, watching the Outlaws murder my family. The next, I was back in my high school classroom, the familiar scent of chalk and disinfectant filling the air, alive and untouched. My heart hammered-not with teenaged excitement, but with the primal terror of a ghost, knowing this was it: the day it all began. Brittany Hayes, perfect blonde hair and a weaponized smile, stood at the front, pushing her dad' s "Life Path AI" onto our entire class for free. Liam Carter, the class golden boy, nodded eagerly beside her, his handsome face alight with ambition, calling it "foolproof." A wave of excited chatter filled the room: the exact siren song that had led to ruin in my last life. I remembered standing up then, my voice trembling but determined, warning them about the AI' s flaws, its bias towards corporate partners. They' d laughed, calling me jealous, a conspiracy theorist, just because my family ran a charity center. They ostracized me, humiliated me, and then Brittany' s father' s media machine discredited my family, painting us as backward fools. Then the Outlaws came, paid to send a message, and they destroyed everything: my parents, my little sister Lily, and me. The memory burned, a raw, open wound in my soul. This time, I didn't stand up. I leaned back, a mask of calm indifference, an empty smile for Liam who glanced my way in surprise. Let them walk into the fire. This time, I would be the one holding the gasoline.

Five Years Old, Billionaire Bound

I was five years old when my dad traded me to a dying billionaire. He called me his lucky charm, a living prophecy, and in return, I got a mansion, a trust fund, and a fancy title: "Madam Chair" of a multi-billion-dollar foundation. I grew up navigating the opulent halls, an outsider in a gilded cage. My only real connection was with Ms. Chadwick, the formidable chief of staff, and the quiet, observant Wesley. But my twisted stepsister, Jennifer, refused to let my past stay in the past. She, along with my opportunistic father, saw my position as their ticket into the Blakely empire. They relentlessly schemed, first trying to marry Jennifer off to the heir, Caleb, then, when that failed, she orchestrated a horrifying corporate sabotage. She framed Caleb, leading to scandalous accusations and the collapse of a crucial merger. Then came the news: Caleb's fiancée, Victoria, was dead, killed in a suspicious car accident. I knew in my gut Jennifer was behind it, her ruthlessness finally escalating to murder. The Blakelys were in chaos, desperate to cover up the scandal, so they gave Jennifer a high-profile role, silencing her with money and status. They bought her silence, but they ignited my fury. This wasn't just about family feuds anymore; it was about justice and survival. I, the quiet girl dismissed as a symbolic chairwoman, decided to wield the foundation's immense power like a sword. It was time to expose every lie, every betrayal, and tear down the very people who thought they could control my destiny.

When Love Was A Trial

For forty years, my life with Elara as a humble Appalachian herbalist was filled with quiet love and shared purpose. Then, on her sixtieth birthday, a blinding light revealed her true form: an Aetheling, and our marriage, a cold "trial" to regain her powers. She abandoned me for her "true love," Caelus, cursing me with unnatural eternal life to watch my entire world slowly die. But the true horror came when Caelus, in a jealous rage, obliterated Hollow Creek, eradicating everyone I loved with a single blighting spell, leaving me the sole, cursed survivor. Elara dragged me to their glittering Aethelgard, where I was a humiliating "pet," a constant reminder of her past. The ultimate betrayal struck when Caelus framed me, and Elara, without hesitation, condemned me to the inescapable Barrow of Whispers, a prison worse than death. How could the woman who shared my heart inflict such calculated cruelty and discard me so utterly? My soul burned with an unbearable mix of grief, helplessness, and seething rage. Yet, in that forgotten abyss, I found the echoing spirits of Hollow Creek, my murdered people. They infused me with the ancient, untamed power of the earth itself, transforming me from a broken mortal into an unstoppable vessel of vengeance. I am no longer Liam, the pet. I am the wrath of the mountains returned, and Elara and Caelus will pay.

The Widow Who Wasn't

My husband, Ethan Vance, was presumed drowned, swallowed by the Serpent River. For three agonizing months, I, Ava – owner of our beloved Portland bakery, "The Daily Rise" – had been a grieving widow, the city's gray mirroring the hollow ache in my chest. My dreams felt entombed by tragedy. My friend Maya finally dragged me to a New Orleans music festival, desperate for a change of scene. Amidst the chaotic pulse and anonymous crowd, I saw him. Ethan. Alive. Laughing, his arm around Chloe Hayes, his "childhood best friend" and a flashy influencer who' d always been a little too close. He looked vibrant, not like a man who' d fought a treacherous river. I heard him brag about "escaping the grind" thanks to "Chloe' s genius plan." Then came the gut punch: "Give it another week... Ava will have really hit rock bottom. She' ll be grateful for anything when I 'miraculously' return." My husband, celebrating my destruction. The betrayal was colder, sharper than any grief. This wasn't just him being alive; it was a premeditated, cruel deception. He'd orchestrated my despair, mocking our shared life. How could the man I loved be such a monstrous con artist? My hands shook, but my voice was steady as I called my lawyer friend. "He's not dead, Ben," I told him, the cold fury replacing my tears. "He's a con artist. And now, I want everything."

The Watch That Broke Us

My 31st birthday should have been a joyful celebration, a moment of genuine warmth with my younger brother, Mike. He gifted me a luxury smartwatch, a gesture that, after years of my financial and emotional support for him, felt like a true acknowledgment of our bond. But the warmth turned to ice moments later when Mike's new girlfriend, Brittany, barraged my phone with aggressive direct messages. "Jealous old maid," she called me, accusing me of trying to "leech" off Mike and demanding *her* watch back. Mike, bafflingly, defended Brittany's behavior, calling it "loyalty" and allowing her to launch a vicious online smear campaign against me. He prioritized her whims over my needs, even lending out my professional camera equipment, only to publicly humiliate me at my office when I requested it back. How could the brother I’d practically raised, the one I’d sacrificed so much for, turn so cruelly against me? Every past act of love and support was now twisted into a cynical attempt to "control" him, dictated by a manipulative stranger. The ultimate betrayal came when he shoved me, leaving me bleeding on my floor, snatching the watch, and walking out, incited by Brittany’s taunting text. That moment transformed my pain into cold resolve: this wasn't just about a watch anymore; it was time to fight back.

A Serpent in My Bed

The smell of stale coffee hung heavy in my college dorm room. My roommate, Jessica, hovered over me, her face a mask of feigned concern. She was my best friend, or so I believed then. It was the Monday before Thanksgiving break, a seemingly ordinary start to a week. But the moment I opened my eyes, a brutal wave of memories crashed over me. The screech of tires, blinding headlights, then utter darkness. My family's beloved restaurant, Miller’s Place, crumbling to dust. My dad, debilitated by a stroke, his once vibrant eyes now vacant. My brother, Michael, broken, his promising future stolen. And my sweet sister-in-law, Emily, clutching an empty nursery. Jessica, the viper I’d foolishly welcomed, had meticulously orchestrated their ruin. She’d falsely accused Michael, leading to Emily's devastating loss. Her calculated lies had bled our family savings dry to fuel her extortion. The shame, the whispers, the very fabric of our small town life, torn apart. I, Sarah Miller, became the pariah, blamed for enabling the monster. The relentless online bullying drove me to walk into traffic, desperate for an end. Now, here she was again, playing the innocent victim, sighing about a lonely Thanksgiving. Her eyes, wide and pleading, mirroring the exact look that had sealed our destruction. How could I have been so catastrophically naïve, so utterly blind to the serpent in my bed? A cold, potent fury roared inside me, threatening to consume everything. The nightmare was beginning anew, a cruel replay of my worst past. But this time, I wasn't the gullible girl. I was back, somehow, exactly one year before the catastrophe. This time, the script was mine to rewrite. This time, I would not be her fool, her stepping stone to ruin. This time, Jessica would finally pay. Every last, agonizing cent.

Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell

"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."

Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don

On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up. As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress. The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me. The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one. With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered. I chose the one man they never expected. I chose his father, the Don himself.

His Unwanted Wife, The World's Coveted Genius

Rumors said that Lucas married an unattractive woman with no background. In the three years they were together, he remained cold and distant to Belinda, who endured in silence. Her love for him forced her to sacrifice her self-worth and her dreams. When Lucas' true love reappeared, Belinda realized that their marriage was a sham from the start, a ploy to save another woman's life. She signed the divorce papers and left. Three years later, Belinda returned as a surgical prodigy and a maestro of the piano. Lost in regret, Lucas chased her in the rain and held her tightly. "You are mine, Belinda."

THE LYCAN KING'S TREASURED LUNA

Narine never expected to survive. Not after what was done to her body, mind, and soul. But fate had other plans. Rescued by Supreme Alpha Sargis, the kingdom's most feared ruler, she finds herself under the protection of a man she doesn't know... and a bond she doesn't understand. Sargis is no stranger to sacrifice. Ruthless, ambitious, and loyal to the sacred matebond, he's spent years searching for the soul fate promised him, never imagining she would come to him broken, on the brink of death, and afraid of her own shadow. He never meant to fall for her... but he does. Hard and fast. And he'll burn the world before letting anyone hurt her again. What begins in silence between two fractured souls slowly grows into something intimate and real. But healing is never linear. With the court whispering, the past clawing at their heels, and the future hanging by a thread, their bond is tested again and again. Because falling in love is one thing. Surviving it? That's a war of its own. Narine must decide, can she survive being loved by a man who burns like fire, when all she's ever known is how not to feel? Will she shrink for the sake of peace, or rise as Queen for the sake of his soul? For readers who believe even the most fractured souls can be whole again, and that true love doesn't save you. It stands beside you while you save yourself.

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?

The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.