After Being Reborn, I Took Revenge on My Entire Family

The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost. Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal. This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline. I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war.

He postponed putting my name on the deed 18 times. Each time, his mentee Ciera had an “emergency.” Each time, he ran to her. I watched him give her his prized Montblanc pen—the one he wouldn’t even let me borrow. I saw her post their late nights on Instagram. I ate anniversary dinners alone while he “mentored” her. Then he bought me a necklace—identical to the one she just flaunted online. That was when I stopped feeling anything. I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight. I simply packed two suitcases, resigned from our firm, and booked a one-way ticket to London. He thinks I’m coming back in a week. He has no idea I’m gone for good. Nineteen broken promises. One silent goodbye. And a new life waiting across the ocean.

At four sharp, she steps into the condo with champagne and fabric swatches, picturing her awards beside Eleanor's photo. The fresh paint smells of new beginnings, but the office door hides a devastating secret. Her fiancé has been financing another woman's life using their renovation money. The revelation waiting inside doesn't just expose his betrayal—it unravels every assumption she held about their love, their loyalty, and the future they were constructing together, forcing her to face a truth that changes everything.

Sylvia Garner dedicated five years to Nathaniel Sinclair, only for him to delay their marriage and secretly propose to Vivian Hayes. Convinced of Sylvia’s unwavering devotion, Nathaniel assumes she will tolerate his betrayal because of Vivian’s terminal illness. However, his arrogance backfires on his wedding day. While he attempts to hide his nuptials from her, he is stunned to learn that Sylvia is also at the altar with another man, leaving the billionaire completely devastated.

For ten years, Elena stood by Leo Moretti, the powerful heir to a billionaire mafia empire. Yet, ninety-eight times her request to meet his family was blocked by his adoptive sister, Rosalie. The ninety-ninth time, Leo returns home furious, accusing Elena of orchestrating an assault on Rosalie. After a brutal, unjust slap, Leo abandons her to comfort his sister. As Elena stands alone in the aftermath of his betrayal, a contemptuous voice on her phone delivers a chilling truth: only he is truly worthy of her.

For years, I was nothing but a biological spare part for my sister, Isabella. My bone marrow kept her vibrant while I withered in the attic. I thought my mate, Alpha Dante, would eventually see me. I was the one who saved him from the blizzard years ago, not her. But when a neon sign crashed down outside the jazz club, Dante didn't look at me. He tackled Isabella, shielding her pristine body, while I was crushed beneath burning silver-plated metal. I woke up in agony, only to find Isabella accusing me of trying to kill her. Dante didn't smell the lies. He only saw his "traumatized" fiancée. "Fifty lashes," he ordered, his eyes cold. "Use the Wolfsbane whip." I hung from the dungeon ceiling, the poison searing my bones, watching the man I loved cover Isabella's eyes to spare her the sight of my blood. The final straw came during a car crash days later. Trapped and bleeding internally, I begged for his help. He looked at the fire licking my legs, then at Isabella's scratched arm. He picked her up and walked away, leaving me to burn. That night, the bond in my heart died. I didn't beg anymore. I left a single cassette tape on his desk—the recording of me singing to him in that blizzard—and vanished. By the time he realized he had tortured his true savior, I was already gone.