After Switching Husbands, I Took Back What Was Mine
8.2 / 10.0
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In her previous life, Eliana took the fall for her adopted sister Iris and lost everything, even being forced into a marriage where her work was stolen to build another man's empire.
Meanwhile, her sister's "perfect" marriage ended in tragedy-her husband turned out disabled and died young.
Reborn, the sisters swapped their fates, Iris claiming the handsome man for herself while Eliana marrying the allegedly sick billionaire.
Eliana only smiled-she knew the truth behind her marriage in the previous life. This time, she chose a different path, bringing her brilliance into the light while using marriage as a mere tool.
Yet the man she married stood firmly by her side, saying, "With me behind you, no one will dare touch you."
After Switching Husbands, I Took Back What Was Mine Chapter 1
"Prisoner 077, your time is up. Step out and start your life again," a guard said, his voice flat and empty.
A faint curve formed on Eliana Marshall's lips. She had heard those same words once in her previous life.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze toward the sky she hadn't seen in years. Sunlight spilled over her, warming her skin and seeping into her very core.
She took a deep breath, letting it fill her lungs. Everything felt different. The air, her body, even the fact that she was still alive.
She had returned to the moment three years ago, the day her nightmare began. From the moment she first entered that prison, everything had been leading back here.
"What are you standing there for? Get in the car! This place makes my skin crawl. If it weren't for Iris, who would've even bothered to pick you up?" The voice of her mother, Phyllis Marshall, cut through her thoughts, sharp and filled with irritation. The screech of brakes echoed as the car came to a stop, sending dust into the air.
It stung Eliana's eyes, but she didn't look away. For the first time in three years, she smiled. It was a quiet expression, one that didn't reach her eyes.
Nothing had changed. Three years ago, her parents' adopted daughter, Iris Marshall, had taken a life while driving drunk. To protect Iris, her own parents had forced her to take the blame and sent her to prison without hesitation.
Now, three years later, they still treated her the same way. But she wasn't the same person anymore. She wasn't that woman who longed for their approval and allowed them to step all over her.
From this moment forward, every second she lived would be used for one purpose. She would make the entire Marshall family pay.
Without saying anything, Eliana pulled the car door open. The back seat caught her attention right away. A disposable cover had been laid over it, clashing with the car's expensive interior.
"Open the windows now. I can't stand the smell," Phyllis said from the front seat, covering her nose as she directed her order at the driver.
Eliana remained silent. As soon as she sat down, she leaned back and closed her eyes, cutting herself off from everything around her. Phyllis' harsh words no longer had any effect on her.
A hint of annoyance crossed Phyllis' face when she received no reaction, but she forced it down. There would be time to deal with Eliana later.
The car had only just come to a stop in front of the Marshall family villa when Iris rushed forward and pulled the rear door open, her face damp with tears.
"Eliana, you're finally home," she remarked, her voice filled with practiced remorse. "I'm so sorry. This is all because of me. Don't worry, we'll make things right. I promise."
Eliana avoided her outstretched hand and stepped out of the car, her eyes fixed ahead. "Make things right? Are you planning to send me back to prison so I can serve more time for you?"
In her previous life, that same excuse had been used to control her. They had forced her into a marriage in Iris' place, pushing her toward a man who destroyed her. Once they had taken everything they could from her, they had abandoned her without hesitation.
Now that she had been given another chance, did they really think she would fall for it again?
She turned back slowly, her gaze sweeping over every member of the Marshall family.
Every word she spoke landed hard, like a slap they couldn't ignore. Both Phyllis and Eliana's father, John Marshall, stiffened, their expressions shifting at once.
Standing beside them, Iris was stunned. When her eyes met Eliana's, a chill ran through her. This wasn't the same person she remembered. The woman who used to give in so easily was gone, replaced by someone distant and unsettling.
For a brief second, fear showed in her eyes. Then it disappeared, replaced by something calculated. Tears followed right after. "Eliana, I know this is all because of me. Ever since you went to prison, John and Phyllis haven't stopped suffering. I even thought about turning myself in, I really did. But if we were both gone, they'd have no one. How can you say something like that to them? Do you really want to hurt them even more?"
As soon as she spoke, the sympathy in Phyllis' and John's eyes deepened.
"Iris, you're always thinking of others," Phyllis muttered, her voice soft. "Not like her. Just because she's our biological daughter, she thinks she can act however she wants."
At her words, relief spread across Iris' face, though she hid it well as she continued, "Eliana, if it makes you feel better, go ahead. Hit me, yell at me... I'll accept it. I just don't want you blaming John and Phyllis anymore."
Her expression looked fragile and sincere, as if she meant every word.
Under normal circumstances, John and Phyllis would have already stepped in to comfort her, turning their anger toward Eliana like they always did.
That had always been how things went.
But this time, Eliana didn't play along.
"Then I'll do it," she responded.
Before anyone could even respond, Eliana moved. She slipped past John and Phyllis in one swift motion, stepped forward, and seized a fistful of Iris' hair. With a sharp pull, she forced her down onto her knees. The next second, her hand came down hard, again and again, striking without hesitation.
When Eliana finally stopped, a faint sting lingered in her palm. She flexed her fingers before looking down at Iris, who had collapsed on the ground, too stunned to react.
"You wanted to make it up to me, didn't you? I couldn't just ignore such a heartfelt apology."
Only then did she let go, stepping back with a faint, unreadable smile.
John and Phyllis stood frozen for a second before rushing forward in panic.
"Iris!" they shouted.
"Eliana, what's wrong with you?" Phyllis yelled, her voice sharp with fury. "How could you treat Iris like that? She was the one who gave you the chance to marry into the Shaw family. Do you even realize what that means? That's the richest family in the city! You spent three years in prison, and you still haven't learned anything. Maybe you should've stayed there longer."
Eliana went still.
The richest family? The Shaw family?
That didn't line up with what she remembered. In her previous life, they had forced her to take Iris' place and marry her fiancé, Jeremy Ward. That arrangement had allowed Iris to walk away and chase the heir of the Shaw family.
So why had it changed this time?
A thought crossed her mind. Had Iris... come back too?
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After Switching Husbands, I Took Back What Was Mine of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.2
In the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse, my skin blistered and peeled.
Through the crackling fire, my sister Elara's malicious voice echoed. She told me my husband, Damien, was dead, and it was all my fault.
For years, I had treated Damien like a monster. I fought him, threw tantrums, and desperately tried to escape our marriage, all because I blindly followed Elara's advice.
"Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get."
She texted me things like that, telling me to smash vases over his head and run away, claiming she was protecting me.
In reality, she was poisoning my mind, stealing my valedictorian spot at university, and plotting to crawl into my billionaire husband's bed.
My foolish rebellion cost me everything, ultimately leading to Damien's tragic death and my own fiery end.
As the massive explosion tore my consciousness to shreds, I finally understood who truly loved me and who the real monster was.
I died suffocating on my own agonizing regret, wishing I could tear Elara apart.
Then, a rush of freezing air punched into my lungs.
I opened my eyes to the crisp scent of cedar and mint. I was back seven years ago, on the very night our marriage was supposed to go to hell.
This time, looking at Damien's flawless, unscarred face, I didn't push him away.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and made a silent vow: I would make every single person who ever hurt him bleed.
7.7
My husband, Bennett, and I were New York's golden couple. But our perfect marriage was a lie, childless because of a rare genetic condition he claimed would kill any woman who carried his baby. When his dying father demanded an heir, Bennett proposed a solution: a surrogate.
The woman he chose, Aria, was a younger, more vibrant version of me. Suddenly, Bennett was always busy, supporting her through "difficult IVF cycles." He missed my birthday. He forgot our anniversary.
I tried to believe him, until I overheard him at a party. He confessed to his friends that his love for me was a "deep connection," but with Aria, it was "fire" and "exhilarating."
He was planning a secret wedding with her in Lake Como, at the same villa he'd promised me for our anniversary.
He was giving her a wedding, a family, a life—all the things he denied me, using a lie about a deadly genetic condition as his excuse. The betrayal was so complete it felt like a physical shock.
When he came home that night, lying about a business trip, I smiled and played the part of the loving wife.
He didn't know I'd heard everything.
He didn't know that while he was planning his new life, I was already planning my escape.
And he certainly didn't know I had just made a call to a service that specialized in one thing: making people disappear.
9.6
In the two years after I married Daniel Carter, my private photos had gone viral nine times, and Daniel had been taken into custody ten times.
Because every time his mistress, Emily Morgan, was unhappy, she would leak my private photos all over the internet.
I, Claire Parker, never let it slide. I reported every shady business Daniel was involved in and personally sent him behind bars.
That lasted until an unexpected kidnapping. I took a bullet for him, one aimed straight at his heart, and he shielded me beneath his body, taking the brunt of the explosion for me.
After we survived, the man who had always been so cold-blooded knelt before me, his voice hoarse beyond recognition.
"Honey, let's leave the drama behind. I just want a peaceful life with you."
Right in front of me, he ordered his men to send his mistress out of Northhaven and never let her appear before him again.
In the third year after we reconciled, I carried my eight-month pregnant belly and brought him lunch.
But on the way there, I was hit by a car. The hospital issued three critical condition notices, yet they still could not save the baby.
Daniel rushed over, but he did not even spare me a glance. Instead, he pulled the woman who had hit me and her child into his arms, soothing her in a low voice.
"Don't be scared. I'll protect you and the child."
Only then did I realize that the woman who had hit me was the very mistress he had sent away three years ago.
When I demanded an explanation, Daniel brushed it off as if it were nothing. "She didn't do it on purpose. Don't take it out on her and her son. You can have a baby another time."
At that moment, I finally understood. They had gotten back together long ago.
I looked at him and nodded. "Don't worry, this will never happen again."
7.7
BAD REPUTATION
7.7
It was her hair that fascinated him. The reddish-brown mass was parted high to one side, windswept almost. And then there was her make-up, neutral save for the liner around her eyes and the bold lip colour... was that purple?
His gaze narrowed over it and she must have sensed his attention, her eyes flickering in his direction. "You know, it's rude to stare."
Her voice was husky, a crisp edge that rasped along his spine and sealed her appeal. Derek was hooked. Her eyes were back on the doors, her lack of interest obvious.
He should've taken it as a sign, but since when had he backed off from anything he fancied?
7.7
Not only was I drugged, blinded and assaulted. I was deceived into carrying a baby by a stranger I never knew. Then he appeared and took my child away.
I was sent to a militia by the father of my child. I thought I was rescued but I was recruited to be a weapon for killing. Who was manipulating me, I didn't know. The answers were far from what I knew.
Forced to blend into the world that I could never believe I would be to, a place where brutality reigned, kill or be killed was the only language. I have survived but he has to pay for everything he did to me, because I believed every phase of my life was set by him and him alone. Have I really survived?
Who would have thought, he existed twice in the same world? Do I really know who I should take revenge on? Him or the person I would sacrifice everything for?
Was my mother the one who orchestrated everything? What kind of pawn am I?
7.6
After an exhausting fourteen-hour flight, Katia returned to her Upper East Side penthouse, expecting the quiet comfort of the life she had built.
Instead, she found a pair of familiar red stilettos in the foyer and her fiancé, Caleb, tangled in their bedsheets with his twenty-two-year-old assistant.
She didn't scream or cry. She simply took off her three-carat engagement ring, threw it at his bare chest, and demanded he buy out her half of the penthouse by Friday.
Seeking to numb the sickening disgust, she got blackout drunk and crashed at a luxury hotel, accidentally stumbling into the wrong suite.
Thinking the imposing man inside was a high-end escort hired by her friend, she threw him over her shoulder and spent a wild night with him.
The next morning, she left five thousand dollars on his nightstand with a lipstick-stained note.
"Good Job."
For six years, she had funded Caleb's dreams and built his startup from the ground up, only to be treated like a lifeless ATM.
With ruthless precision, she spent the next two months systematically bankrupting his company, cutting off his venture capital, and erasing his life's work.
She felt no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating need to cleanse herself of his betrayal.
But when Katia finally returned to corporate headquarters to co-lead a massive merger, she literally crashed into the new Vice President.
Strong arms caught her waist, and the sharp scent of cedarwood and whiskey hit her like a freight train.
"You came back," Jackson whispered, his eyes burning as he stared at the woman who had treated him like a cheap gigolo.
